Chapter 10
Diesel
The message comes in while I’m mid-conversation with Ghost.
Unknown number.
One photo.
Grace.
Tied. Hurt. Terrified.
I stare at the image for one long second. Then another.
Rage hits hard, white-hot. My vision tunnels. My pulse pounds.
But I hold.
No flinch. No roar. Just breath. Just focus.
Because she doesn’t need my fury.
She needs me sharp. Steady.
She needs me to bring hell, and walk out with her in my arms.
Ghost sees my face. “Diesel?”
I show him the phone.
He swears. Reaches for his gun. “I’ll find her location.”
I nod once.
But inside?
Inside I’m already gone.
Gone to war.
Because I’m bringing her home.
And I’m going to bury the man who thought he could take her from me.
Ghost gets the location within an hour.
Grace is being held at an old ranger station outside Black Pines. Remote, tucked into national forest land, no neighbors for miles. Used to be government property. Now it’s just another forgotten patch of dirt, repurposed by men who think power is about who bleeds first.
John knew what he was doing when he took her there.
He wanted to drag us off our turf. Control the field. Lure us out into his.
But Ghost knew the terrain better. He pulls up satellite maps, outlines roadblocks, fallback routes, old boot trails, and entry points the Wolves won’t know are exposed. Every detail. Every weakness. His voice doesn’t shake once.
The Saints move fast.
No posturing. No yelling. Just weapons checked, radios tested, vests snapped. Men who’ve bled together getting ready to bleed again.
I’m calm. Too calm.
The kind of quiet that used to scare me, because I thought it meant the rage was gone.
It’s not.
It’s tucked in tight. Controlled. Sharpened.
Grace is all that matters.
She’s out there. Terrified. Alone. Maybe hurt. My girl.
She trusted me to keep her safe. And I will.
Whatever it takes.
We roll out soon.
Two vans. Four bikes. Saint, Ghost, Havoc, Blade, Viper. Doc riding backup with medical. Every one of them locked in, eyes hard.
Havoc rides shotgun beside me. “You good?”
“No,” I say. “But I’m ready.”
He nods. That’s all.
We hit the tree line hours later, kill the engines, move in on foot.
Ghost leads the second team wide on the left. Saint’s on my six, rifle up, watching for shadows.
We take the high ground first—ridge above the ranger station. From here, I can see it all.
Grace is inside.
Her shape is visible through a cracked window, tied up in a chair. Duct tape on her wrists, ankles, mouth. John stands behind her like he owns the world.
Something in me snaps and reassembles in the same breath.
I don’t let the rage lead. I let the mission lead.
I pull out my radio. “Position confirmed. Four outside, two at the rear. John’s inside with Grace. Green light?”
Ghost: “Green.”
We move like ghosts.
Havoc and Blade sweep the rear. Silent and lethal.
Saint and I hit the porch.
The first guy turns just in time to catch my fist to the jaw and Saint’s knife in the gut. No time for a scream.
Inside, John hears it.
He grabs Grace by the hair, yanks her up like a shield.
Wrong move.
I’m through the door in two strides, gun up, sights on his skull.
“Let her go,” I growl.
He grins. “Or what? You’ll shoot through her?”
My trigger finger doesn’t twitch. “You know I won’t.”
“You’re right. Because you’re soft for her.”
Grace’s eyes are wide. Terrified.
But she’s alive.
And still fighting.
I see it. The resistance in her body. The strength it takes just to stay upright. To meet my eyes. To believe.
“You’re gonna die for her?” John sneers, dragging her closer.
“No,” I say. “You are.”
He blinks.
Ghost’s bullet takes him through the shoulder from the side window.
John screams and shoves Grace away. She stumbles and crashes to the floor, shaking all over, breathing wild through her nose, eyes wide with fear.
“I’ve got you,” I say, low and steady.
I draw my knife and cut through the duct tape at her ankles first, then her wrists. She winces when I peel the tape from her mouth.
“It’s over,” I murmur. “I’ve got you now. You’re safe.”
She gasps a breath and crumples into my arms, her fingers clinging to my cut like she needs to feel it's real. Her sobs are raw, broken, muffled against my chest.
I hold her tighter, rocking her just a little.
John bleeds on the floor, cursing, scrabbling for a weapon.
Saint kicks it away, boots his ribs.
Ghost enters, calm as ever, gun still warm.
“We got the files,” Ghost says. “This is done.”
Havoc radios in the all-clear. The Saints clean up fast.
The difference is clear in every breath of this moment.
The Wolves use fear to chain people.
We break chains.
They exploit.
We protect.
They take.
We return what was stolen.
Grace is wrapped in my jacket, sitting in the back of the van with Doc checking her wrists.
“I’m okay,” she keeps saying. “I’m okay.”
But I see the tremble in her fingers.
I see the way her eyes search the room, like it could still turn on her.
When I crouch in front of her, she grabs my face with both hands and pulls me in like I’m air and she’s drowning.
“You came.”
“Always.”
She cries then.
Really cries.
Not quiet, careful tears. Ugly ones. Relief. Rage. Love. All of it.
I hold her through it, rocking her slightly, letting her pour it all out.
She’s not bait anymore.
She’s not leverage.
She’s not debt.
She’s just Grace.
Back at the cabin, it’s dark again. Rain taps the windows. Same as the night we made love for the first time.
She’s clean, dressed in soft clothes, sitting on the edge of the bed like she doesn’t know how to be here. Like she’s afraid to believe this is real.
I sit beside her, elbows on my knees.
“You were braver than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I was terrified,” she whispers.
“And you still survived.”
She doesn’t answer, but her silence says everything. So I turn fully, meeting her eyes.
“You’re not alone anymore, Grace. You have me. I’ll protect you. Always. And you’ve got my brothers. They see you as family now. We protect our own.”
Her lip trembles.
“I want to be here,” she says. “With you. I want all of this.”
I kiss her.
I kiss her like I bled for her. Like I’d kill again for her. Like she’s mine, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving she’s safe with me.
When I pull back, we’re both breathing harder.
“I can’t be gentle tonight,” I say, my voice low, raw with everything I’ve held back.
Her eyes flash. “Then don’t be.” A beat. “Show me how bad you needed me back.”
That’s all I need.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
She obeys, shifting without hesitation like she already knows how much I need this.
I stand just long enough to strip off my shirt, then shove down my jeans and briefs in one rough motion. My cock springs free, hard and leaking, already throbbing for her.
I kneel behind her, dragging her pants and panties down in one firm pull, exposing that perfect ass. Full. Soft. Mine.
My hands grip her without restraint, spreading her open so I can see exactly where she’s wet, dripping for me.
I growl.
“You missed this?” I ask.
She nods, breath hitching.
“You want this?”
“Yes,” she breathes, louder now. “I want you.”
“Then take me.”
I line my cock up and thrust into her in one brutal stroke, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, hands scrambling on the sheets, back arching. Her pussy is so tight it nearly strangles me, and fuck if I don’t want to lose my mind right here.
I pull back and slam in again, setting a punishing rhythm. Every thrust is a promise.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
“You feel that?” I growl, breath hot at her ear, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding up to cup her breast.
“That’s what it feels like to be wanted. To be cherished. To be burned into someone so deep they’d never survive losing you.”
She gasps, her body trembling.
I reach down between us, rubbing her clit in tight circles. Her whole body shakes. She tries to speak but chokes on a cry, her walls fluttering around my cock.
“That’s it,” I snarl. “Come for me, baby. Show me who you’re made for.”
She unravels with a scream, soaking me, breaking apart with my name on her lips.
I grab her hips, both hands tight, and lose the last of my control, pounding into her until I’m gone. My release hits hard, spilling deep inside her while I curse into her skin.
We collapse together, still shaking.
I don’t pull out right away. I stay inside her, still hard, still needing her warmth.
“You’re mine,” I say again, quieter now. “No one takes what’s mine. Not ever.”
She turns her head just enough for me to see her smile. Faint, shaky, but real.
“Yours,” she whispers. “I’m yours.”
I kiss the back of her neck, the curve of her shoulder, then finally ease out of her, gentle now.
I pull her into my chest, wrap us in the blanket, and hold her like I’m never letting go.
Because I’m not.