Chapter 9 Cassandra
CASSANDRA
The roar of the engine vibrating through my chest is the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth.
The wind whips past us, a biting, cold fury that stings my exposed skin, but the heat radiating off Chase’s back is a furnace.
I have my arms wrapped around his waist, my fingers dug into the leather of his cut so hard I’m surprised I haven’t punched holes through the tough hide.
A sudden, blinding glare in the side mirror catches my eye.
"Chase!" I scream, the sound torn away by the wind.
A black SUV surges up behind us, grille looming like a set of iron teeth. It doesn't slow down. It accelerates.
Chase sees it. I feel his muscles bunch, hard as rock.
He doesn't panic. He reacts. He drops a gear, the Harley screaming in protest as he twists the throttle, shooting us forward just as the SUV's bumper clips our rear fender.
The impact jars my spine, sending a jolt of pure terror through my veins.
"Hang on!" he roars.
We aren’t riding like normal anymore. We are tearing up the asphalt, banking around the switchbacks of Grizzly Peak with a ferocity that screams survival. The SUV is heavy, but fast. It takes the corners wide, tires screeching, relentless.
Chase leans the bike so low my knee almost scrapes the pavement.
Sparks fly. He weaves into the oncoming lane to dodge a sedan, then cuts back sharply, putting a logging truck between us and our pursuer.
The SUV slams on its brakes, horn blaring, but Chase doesn't look back.
He pushes the bike to its limit, demanding everything from the machine.
For three minutes, the world is nothing but blurred trees, the smell of burning rubber, and the terrifying proximity of death. Then, he spots the turnoff. He kills the lights.
We hit the gravel turnoff in pitch darkness, the bike fishtailing wildly before Chase wrestles it under control. We slide behind a dense cluster of pines, the engine cutting out instantly. Silence crashes down.
Seconds later, the black SUV roars past on the main road, taillights disappearing into the night.
Chase lets out a breath that sounds like a curse. He turns to me, checking me over with frantic hands. "You hurt?"
"No," I gasp, adrenaline trembling in my limbs. "Who was that?"
"Oswald's cleanup crew," he growls. "Trying to run us off the mountain."
He checks the road one last time before gunning it toward the ridge, the bike's engine screaming as we fly through the final miles of shadows.
The bike slows as we hit the gravel turnoff, the tires crunching loudly in the sudden stillness of the deep woods. The towering pines swallow the sunlight, casting long, bruised shadows across the path to his cabin. When the engine finally cuts out, the silence rushes in, heavy and thick.
Chase kicks the kickstand down but doesn’t move to get off. He sits there, his shoulders rising and falling with jagged breaths. I can feel the tension in him, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.
"Off," he commands, his voice rough, gravel over steel.
I slide off the back, my legs trembling as my heels hit the ground.
I feel unmoored without the solid wall of his back against me.
I hug my arms around myself, trying to summon the icy demeanor of Cassandra Preston, Attorney at Law, but I am just Cassandra—rattled from the near-miss on the road and the terrifying realization that I just let a man abduct me because my soul hurt too much to say no.
Chase dismounts in one fluid, aggressive motion. He doesn’t look at me. He stalks toward the cabin, unlocking the heavy reinforced door with a snap of his wrist. He holds it open, his body blocking the exit, his eyes hidden behind dark aviators.
"Inside. Now."
My spine stiffens at the tone, my lawyer brain finally finding a foothold in the chaos. "I am not your prisoner, Chase. You can’t just drag me up here and order me around."
He takes off the glasses, hooking them into the neck of his t-shirt.
His eyes are wild, rimmed with red, burning with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
"You think you’re a prisoner?" He laughs, a dark, humorless sound.
"Cassandra, out there? With Oswald and his threats and your career hanging by a thread? That’s the prison.
This?" He gestures to the cabin, to the fire I know is waiting to be lit. "This is the only place you’re safe."
"Safe?" I step inside, the familiar scent of cedar and musk wrapping around me. "Safe from who? Oswald? Or you?"
He shuts the door behind us and throws the deadbolt with a finality that echoes in my chest. He turns, leaning his back against the wood, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest. "You think you need protection from me?"
"I heard you." My throat tightens. "I heard what you told Logan. You said I was handled. You said you knew which buttons to push. You made me sound like a strategy. A zoning permit with legs."
Chase flinches. It’s small, barely a twitch of his jaw, but I see it. He pushes off the door and paces into the living room, running a hand through his windblown hair. He looks like a caged animal, pacing the perimeter of his enclosure.
"I lied," he says, his back to me.
"To who? Me? Or him?"
He spins around, and the raw desperation on his face stops the breath in my throat.
"I lied to my President because I wasn't ready to share the reality of you with the club. I’ve had my seed inside you, Cassandra. I’ve marked you.
Admitting that out loud makes you a target, and I don't let anyone touch what I’ve already claimed. "
He doesn't just walk over; he crowds me until my shoulders hit the cabin wall, his massive frame cutting off the light. His hands clamp onto my shoulders like iron bands, his thumbs digging into my collarbones as he forces me to look up into that olive green, predatory stare.
"If I told Logan—if I told any of them—that I was compromising club business because I couldn’t breathe without you?
Because the thought of you leaving makes me want to burn this whole town to the ground?
" He shakes his head. "I couldn't look weak.
Not with the expansion on the line. So I played the part. I talked like an Enforcer."
"So you sacrificed me to keep your reputation?" I challenge, my voice cracking.
"No." He growls the word, his thumbs digging into my collarbone, not hurting, but claiming. "I sacrificed my reputation to keep you. I thought if I played it cool, I could fix the permit issue fast, get the heat off us, and then... then I’d have you. For real. Without the timer ticking down."
I search his eyes, looking for the lie. But I don't see him. I see a man stripped bare, terrified and furious and aching.
"You called me a honeypot," I accuse softly.
"I called you the only thing that matters," he corrects, his voice dropping to a rough whisper.
He steps closer, his hips bumping mine, forcing me back against the rough-hewn wall of the cabin.
"When Oswald was in that room... when I saw the fear in your eyes.
.. I realized I didn't give a damn about the permit.
I don't care about the Outfitters. I don't care about the club's expansion. "
He leans down, his forehead resting against mine. "I would have walked away from the patch today if it meant keeping you safe. Do you understand that, Cassandra? That is not a strategy. That is a surrender."
The fight drains out of me. My hands slowly uncurl and rise, finding purchase on his chest. I can feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that matches my own.
"You really lied to Logan?" I ask, needing to hear it one more time.
"I lied to my blood," Chase confirms, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending a sharp spark down my spine. "Because the truth was too dangerous to admit out loud."
"What is the truth?"
He pulls back, his olive green eyes locking onto mine. "The truth is that from the second I saw you in that town hall meeting, looking like an ice queen ready to cut my throat with a statute... I was done. It’s the pull, Cassandra. The crash. It hits you, and you don’t get back up."
My breath hitches. "The Thunderbolt?"
"Instinct. Fate. Whatever you want to call it.
" His hand moves up, cupping my jaw, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip.
"I looked at you and I knew. You weren't a lawyer I had to beat.
You were the other half of my soul I had to claim.
The fake dating? The contract? That was just me buying time.
Desperate, pathetic time to make you see me.
To make you want me as much as I want you. "
"I do," I whisper. "God, Chase, I do."
The words act like a match thrown into gasoline.
Chase growls, a low, primal sound that vibrates against my skin, and then his mouth devours mine.
He isn't just kissing me; he's occupying me, his tongue thick and demanding as he forces me to submit to the taste of him.
He tastes of whiskey, smoke, and an unyielding need to own every breath I take.
He slams his pelvis into mine, pinning me against the rough logs.
I can feel the thick, heavy ridge of his cock pressing against my pussy through the thin wool of my skirt and the soaked silk of my thong.
The friction of him against my slick barrier makes my pussy throb with a localized, aching need to be filled to the brim.
"Say it again," he demands against my lips, his hands gripping my hips so hard I know I’ll have his fingerprints as a permanent brand by morning.
"I want you," I gasp. "God, Chase, I want you."
"Good." He peppers kisses down the column of my throat, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin over my pulse. "Because I'm not letting you go. Not now. Not ever."
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing the olive green. He rests his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine, harsh and ragged.
"So," I say, breathless, my hands still gripping his t-shirt to stay upright. "Where does this leave us? The contract is void if we’re... real."
Chase rests his hands on my hips, his expression turning serious. "The contract was void the minute I signed it. But the problem remains. Oswald is going to come back. And the town council is still looking for a reason to deny us."
"I can’t oppose you anymore," I say, the lawyer in me waking up. "It’s a conflict of interest now. A massive one."
"I don't need a lawyer. I have James for that—though that man is a storm on the horizon I’m not ready to deal with yet. Right now, I need a partner. I need you."
He steps back, walking over to the fireplace and crouching down to stack kindling. He strikes a match, watching the flame catch.
"I’m done hiding you," he says, watching the fire grow. "Tomorrow, we walk into town, and we don't play it up for the cameras. We don't do it for Riley James or the Mayor. We do it because you’re mine."
"Oswald will use it," I warn him.
Chase stands up and turns to me, the firelight casting him in silhouette. "Let him say whatever he wants. If he comes near you again, he won't be dealing with a lawsuit. He’ll be dealing with the entire Broken Halos charter."
He walks back to me, taking my hand and bringing my knuckles to his lips. "I spent my whole life fighting for this mountain, Cassandra. Protecting the club. I never thought I’d find something else worth fighting for." He kisses my palm. "But I was wrong. We’re going to win this. Together."
I look at him—really look at him. I see the unshakeable strength of a man who has decided on his future. And for the first time in my life, I don't feel like I have to fight the battle alone.
"Together," I agree softly.
"But first," Chase’s eyes darken, that dangerous hunger returning as he hauls me off my feet. "I’m going to wash every trace of that corporate prick’s lies off you.
By the time I’m done, you’re going to be covered in my scent, marked by my teeth, and so full of my seed that you’ll forget anyone else ever dared to look at you.
You’re mine, Cassandra. I’m going to stretch you wide and remind you exactly who you belong to. "
I laugh as he carries me toward the bathroom. The threats are still out there. But up here, I have finally found where I belong.
And God help anyone who tries to take it from us.