Chapter Eighteen
Lila
The bunker is…nice. Too nice, almost. Full kitchen, clean bathrooms, more bedrooms than I can count. It feels more like a hidden house than a shelter. Everything about it says safe. Strong. Secure.
But I still feel trapped.
Patch’s voice keeps replaying in my head.
He explained who had Bree.
Not by name, but by what kind of man he was.
His words were careful, measured, like he was trimming them down so they wouldn’t crush me. But even the pieces he gave me were enough. I understood. I understood all too well.
The couch beneath me is soft, but it might as well be stone.
My hands twist together in my lap until my knuckles ache, and every breath tastes too shallow, like the air is pressing down on me.
I don’t know Cortez.
I’ve never even heard his name before today.
But I don’t have to know him to feel the danger.
To picture Bree in a place where the walls aren’t warm, where she isn’t safe and happy. My baby is out there, and every second feels like a punishment.
Patch said I needed to stay here.
That my body has been pushed too far, too long, and the fainting is a warning I can’t ignore.
He said Max was only protecting me by leaving me behind, but my chest still hurts with the sting of it.
I wanted to fight him. To scream. To run after him. But when Patch looked me in the eye and told me I could do permanent damage to myself, I knew Max was right.
It doesn’t stop me from being angry.
It doesn’t stop me from feeling useless while some vile man is possibly doing unspeakable things to my little girl.
So I sit here, surrounded by walls that should comfort me, but don’t. Walls that make me feel caged when all I want is to fight for my daughter.
And all I can do is wait. Wait and pray the man I’m quickly falling in love with will bring Bree back to me.
***Max***
The house is too quiet.
No lights. No cars in the drive. No hum of a TV bleeding through the walls. Just a dark, empty shell sitting a mile away from the nearest neighbor. My gut twists hard, screaming trap, but I shove it down. Bree’s in there. I can feel it in my bones.
“Only one heat signature,”
Foster whispers.
“But it’s hard to pinpoint where. There’s a natural heating stream behind the house that’s interfering with my readings.”
“We split up,”
Spike says, urging us forward.
We slip through the front door without a sound. Too easy. Way too damn easy. Spike signals us forward, and we sweep through each room with the discipline of men who’ve done this before. Every corner, every closet, every shadow. Nothing.
The lights don’t work. Foster says the outside wiring has been cut. The only sound is our boots against the floor and the faint creak of the house settling around us. My unease sharpens with every empty room.
“Here,”
Spike says, stopping in the kitchen. He grips what looks like a pantry door, tugging it open. Instead of shelves, a narrow staircase drops several steps into another room. The air coming up from it is stale, wrong.
We move down, one by one, guns ready. Another door waits at the bottom. Spike pushes it open, and my stomach lurches at what’s inside.
It’s dark, but our flashlights sweep the room, spilling light across a nightmare. A small pink princess bed sits in one corner, delicate and wrong in this place. Beside it, a rack of tiny clothes. Dozens of outfits, all meant for a little girl.
The opposite side of the room is bare. Tripods line each corner, with one set dead center, waiting.
“Fuck,”
Foster breathes, voice tight.
“Over here,”
Maverick calls, standing at the far wall. He nods at a door, shut tight, a heavy deadbolt securing it from the outside.
My throat closes. My chest aches.
“I can’t fucking breathe,”
I admit, low and raw.
Spike glances at me.
“Want me to go first?”
I shake my head. No. Bree is mine.
Maverick works the bolt, swinging the door open fast. My gun is already aimed. Finger brushing the trigger.
At first, the room looks empty. Bare concrete floor. A small window set high in the wall, thick glass sealed against sound. The air is cold, stale, suffocating.
“They made sure no one could hear anything happening inside this room,”
Maverick growls.
“Even that window’s reinforced.”
We’re about to move on when a beam of light catches the far corner.
And there she is.
Bree.
She’s lying on the floor, a small, broken shadow hiding in the corner of this nightmare. No ropes, no guards, no sound. Just her.
“Bree!”
My voice breaks out of me before I can stop it. I rush forward, drop to my knees, and scoop her up. Relief crashes through me…until I realize how limp she is.
Something’s wrong.
Her head lolls against my chest, her body too light, too still.
“Fuck,”
Maverick mutters, crouching beside me. “Blood.”
The word punches through me, but training takes over. Panic won’t save her. Control might.
“Butterfly, it’s me, babygirl. It’s Max,”
I whisper, my voice steady even though my heart’s trying to tear its way out of my chest.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I just need you to open your eyes for me.”
Spike presses his palm hard into her sternum, rubbing roughly to trigger a response. His jaw is tight, his eyes sharp.
“Come on, kid. Show me something.”
Then…her lashes flicker. A small sound leaves her throat. Slowly, her eyes open, dazed. Her lips move, repeating the same sound over and over, but we can’t catch it.
“Bree,”
I urge, holding her tighter, my face close to hers.
“Look at me. Say it again.”
Her gaze snaps into focus, wide and terrified, locking on mine.
“Bomb,”
she breathes. And then louder, clear.
“Run. Get out.”
We don’t think.
We don’t question.
We don’t hesitate.
We fucking run.
For half a heartbeat, instincts claw at me. Be careful. Don’t jolt her. You don’t know where she’s bleeding from. You don’t know how bad it is.
But I shove it all down, bury it under the one thing that matters.
Getting her out of here…alive.
We barrel for the door like the world’s on fire. My lungs burn, boots slap concrete, men shouting. Nothing makes sense except the beat of my heart and the weight in my arms. Bree is a small, heavy bundle against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. Her skin feels cool pressed against mine.
Spike is at my left shoulder, Bones on my right. Maverick covers our six. Foster runs ahead of us, breath ragged, slamming open doors. The hallway stretches and narrows, and the exit swings open like salvation.
The night air hits us before we reach the door…cold, sharp, the yard a smear of black.
A sound comes up from under the house…low, wrong, like a giant throat clearing. First, it’s a vibration under my boots, then a deep, hollow boom that crawls through bone. Debris rains down from above, and the world folds inward, a heat wave ripping past us.
“ MOVE! ”
Spike barks. The word rips through me. I tighten my arms, tuck Bree’s head closer to my chest, and run harder.
The ground explodes under the building. An angry, keening roar, and a shockwave throws us forward. It hits like a punch to the ribs. I don’t get to think about falling;
I only get to feel weightless, then smashed into the dirt. Splinters and dust fill the air, a white, choking sheet. Something slams into my shoulder, and I taste metal on my teeth.
For a second, the world is only noise: men coughing, someone swearing, a far-off scream, the rasp of tires.
I roll on instinct, curling my body around Bree, using my legs and arms like a shield.
She’s hard against me…alarmingly limp…and I scream her name into my own chest because sound is the only prayer I have. My hearing is a thin ribbon of ringing. I was too close to the house when it exploded.
Everything happened in a split second, yet it felt like I was running in slow motion.
It felt like I could see the shockwave before it hit is, the heat before it escaped the ground. I’ll never forget these past few seconds for as long as I live.
Somebody…Maverick, I think…hauls me off the ground.
Hands everywhere. Bones is on his knees, ripping Bree’s leggings open and pressing his hands against her leg, trying to slow the blood that I can now see is seeping out from a small hole. Spike is moving, voice steady but deadly.
“Back to the truck.
Now. Move, move, move.”
We shove into the pickup like animals, boots slipping, breath hot and ragged. Foster’s face is streaked with dirt, eyes wide and shining with guilt tangled up in relief.
“I’m so sorry,”
he pants.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t find her sooner.”
It’s not his fault. I don’t blame him. But my throat is a knot, words lodged too deep to dig out. So, I just grip his shoulder hard, shake my head once, and hope he understands.
Then I turn back to Bree, pressing my hand over her tiny chest, as if my heartbeat can drag hers along with it. If sheer will could keep her alive, she’d never stop breathing.
Maverick is bleeding from a cut along his brow, but he’s laughing like a madman, furious and alive.
Bones stays on Bree, whispering soft, useless things into her hair, checking pulse, counting breaths.
I keep my head bowed over her, fingers finding the small, ragged rise of her chest. It’s there. It’s weak, but it’s there.
It doesn’t take long before Spike has the truck slamming to a stop in front of the ambulance bay of the hospital.
“Give her to me,”
Bones snaps, hand already reaching.
I hesitate, clutching Bree tighter.
“Dammit, Max, let me have her. You need to get stitched up before you fucking die.”
It’s only then that I feel it…the hot burn down my back, the wetness soaking through my shirt.
“You were hit by shrapnel,”
he growls.
“It’s bleeding bad. Now give me the girl and follow me.”
I nod, throat still closed up, and do as he says. Passing her over rips something inside me, but I obey. Words still won’t come.
The next hours blur. Doctors, needles, the sharp sting of stitches, the cold questions of cops. None of it matters. My only thought is getting back to Bree.
Spike finds me as I pull on a clean shirt, his expression carved in stone.
“She was shot,”
he says flatly.
“Bullet’s out. She’ll be fine.”
Fine. Yes.
But she was fucking shot.
Cortez shot my daughter.
Spike exhales hard, his gaze cutting to mine.
“He told her the bomb was timed for five minutes the second someone entered the house. We were damn lucky we got out when we did.”
My chest is a raw, aching thing. The hollow that’s lived in me for so long twists tighter with every breath, then loosens when I picture my daughter alive. Bree is breathing. That’s everything.
The rest…the rage, the hunt, the war that’s coming…can wait. But not for long.
We got her out. We cleared the door. We almost didn’t make it.
And now the hunt is on.
“Come on,”
Spike says, guiding me out of the room.
“Lila and Bree have been asking for you for over an hour.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Bree was awake and my woman was here?”
I demand, furious at being kept in the dark.
“Because you had a piece of that house stuck right next to your lung,”
he reminds me.
“I knew you’d be out of the room in a heartbeat, and I needed you alive. They need you alive.”
Okay, so maybe he’s got a point.
“They’re in here,”
he says, showing me the room and moving to sit with our brothers in the waiting room.
I pause in the doorway, hand braced on the frame like it’s the only thing keeping me upright. For the first time since we pulled her out of that hellhole, I can breathe.
Bree’s propped up in bed, a plastic cup of pudding in her hands, spoon clutched tight like it’s treasure. She looks small, pale, but her eyes are open. Awake. Alive. Lila sits beside her, smoothing hair from her face, whispering something that makes Bree smile.
My knees nearly give.
I step inside, and both of them look up. Lila’s eyes shine with tears that don’t fall, her mouth trembling into a smile meant for me. I cross the room in three strides and pull her against me, burying my face in her hair.
“I love you,”
I whisper, voice rough.
“I’m so damn sorry I couldn’t protect her.”
She presses her palm lightly against my chest, then smacks me just hard enough to make me look at her.
“You saved her,”
she says, firm, no room for argument. Her eyes soften.
“And I love you too.”
The knot in my chest loosens, just a little.
“I love you, too!”
Bree pipes up, louder than I expect. She’s grinning, pudding smeared at the corner of her mouth, more awake than anyone should be after what she’s been through.
Then her smile falters, just for a second.
“Oh. Cortez said to tell you…that he wins.”
She frowns, her small voice steady.
“But he didn’t, did he? We did. Because our family’s back together.”
The air leaves my lungs. I drop to my knees at her bedside, cupping her tiny hand in mine. She’s right. Damn it all, she’s right.
We did.
I sink down beside Bree’s bed, still holding her tiny hand in mine. Her fingers are sticky from pudding, but I don’t care. I press a kiss to them like they’re made of gold.
“You’re right, sweetheart,”
I say, voice low, thick.
“We did win. Because you’re here. Because we’re together. And as soon as we get back to Micah, our family will be complete.”
Her smile is soft, a little wobbly, but it’s still a smile. Lila leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder, and for one rare, fragile moment, the world feels steady. My family. My heart. Lila, Bree, and Micah. This is what I’ve been longing for.
But underneath it…is the rage. It coils in my gut, hot and sharp, no place to go. Cortez touched what was mine. He put a bullet in my daughter. He made her carry his message.
I glance at Lila, at the soft curve of her cheek against me, at Bree blinking heavy but refusing to let sleep win. My chest aches so deeply it almost buckles me. I can’t let them see the storm, but it’s there. Always there.
“I love you all,”
I murmur, steadying my voice for them.
“More than anything.”
Bree grins, eyes already fluttering closed.
“Uncle Micah can be my brother now,”
she says.
“And Mama can be both of our Mamas, and you can be both of our Daddies. Because that’s how family works.”
She drifts off with those words, and I tuck the blanket higher around her, holding on to the warmth of them like a lifeline.
“I’ll be back, baby,”
I tell Lila, kissing her gently.
“Don’t leave our little girl. I want you both together until I get back.”
She doesn’t respond with words, but she doesn’t need to. The love in her eyes tells me all I need to know, and it warms my heart.
But as I rise, as I meet Spike’s eyes in the doorway, the warmth turns to iron.
We saved her. We cleared the door. We lived.
Now Cortez is going to learn what happens when you mess with the Iron Shadows. His days are numbered.
“Chris is in custody,”
Maverick says as Spike and I step into the waiting room.
“Bones took him in himself. Gave the cops everything they needed to lock his ass up. They didn’t even bother asking why it looked like he’d already been beaten.”
“Good,”
I growl.
“He deserves everything coming to him for what he did.”
“Cortez crossed the border back to Mexicali,”
Foster says, his jaw tight, eyes burning.
“But I’ve got buddies over there with eyes everywhere. I’ll find him, brothers. I won’t let you down again.”
“Again?”
Spike asks.
“You didn’t let us down, man,”
I tell him.
“I didn’t even know Cortez was here,”
Foster snaps.
“Because of that, your daughter got shot. She almost died. You all almost fucking died. Why aren’t you pissed?”
“I am,”
I admit quietly.
“But not at you. If it wasn’t for you, we never would’ve found her in time.”
“Only because you brought up looking at Muerte’s old spots,”
he mutters.
“Listen to me,”
I say, locking eyes with him.
“I don’t blame you for anything. None of us do.”
It’s all I can offer. Foster has to believe the truth himself. This is a fight he’ll have to wage inside his own head, just like I had to when I thought no one wanted me here because of what I’d done.
I was wrong then. He’s wrong now. He’ll see that soon enough.
“There’s nothing more we can do right now,”
Spike says, voice low but steady.
“When they release Bree, we get everyone back to the compound and come up with a plan of action. I want our family protected, but I don’t want them to feel like prisoners.”
“We increase security,”
Tank adds.
“Bree can be homeschooled.”
“That’s not going to work,”
Lila cuts in from the doorway. Her voice wavers but doesn’t break.
“I’m not pulling her out of school. But I do want to change schools. I’ll never trust the one she’s in after what they let happen.”
“I know a guy,”
Maverick says.
“Works security at a private school nearby. I’d trust him and his team with my life.”
“Oh, I can’t afford a private school,”
Lila says quickly.
“If you could,”
I ask, reaching out to take her hand and pulling her gently onto my lap.
“would you let her go?”
“If I could afford it, yes,”
she admits.
“But I’ve already looked into private schools. Tuition’s too high.”
“Let me pay for it,” I say.
“Absolutely not,”
she starts, shaking her head.
“Baby,”
I beg softly.
“Let me do this for you. Let me do this for her.”
She hesitates, trying to slide off my lap, but I hold her close. I’m not letting her drift away, not after everything we’ve just gone through.
“I can’t ask that of you,”
she whispers.
“I don’t want you thinking I’m using you.”
The men around us chuckle, low and knowing. I hide my smile against her hair.
“Use me, baby,”
I murmur.
“I need this. I need you. I need Bree and Micah.”
“This is too much,”
she whispers, but her hands grip my arm like she’s afraid to let go.
“It’s not enough,”
I say firmly.
“I want you three to move in with me. We’ll move back inside the compound. I’ll fix the house so Micah can access every room. Bree will have so much room to play outside. We’ll even put in some playground equipment.”
“What?”
She pulls back, eyes wide as she looks down at me.
“Max, you barely know us. You have no idea what you’re signing up for. I love my brother, but he’s…he’s a lot of work. I can’t ask you to take that on.”
“Use me, baby,”
I repeat, holding her gaze.
“You’ve done this alone for far too long. I love Micah. It would be my honor to help you care for him.”
“All of us would,”
Spike adds from across the room.
“He’s a Shadow after all. He’s family.”
“And I really enjoy kicking his ass at chess,”
Foster puts in, smirking.
Lila laughs then, a soft, shaky sound, and hides her face in my neck.
“You all are crazy,”
she mumbles, voice muffled.
“But…okay.”
“Thank you, baby,”
I say, kissing the top of her head.
“But I want to pay you back for her school fee,”
she adds quickly.
“I’ll give you my paycheck from Abby every week until it’s covered.”
“Oh, she’s playing with fire,”
Tank snickers, standing.
“I’m going to check on our cutest Shadow and bribe her into believing I’m her favorite uncle.”
“Oh, I think not,”
Skip says, chasing after him.
“We’re not going through this again like we did with Asher. I am, and will always be, the favorite.”
“I’m not rich,”
I admit, not caring who hears.
“But I have enough money for us to live comfortably. We can afford a private school for Bree. We can afford to renovate the house so Micah has everything he needs.”
“Since that’s Shadow property,”
Spike cuts in.
“the club will be paying for that. Along with the playground.”
I nod at him, grateful for the support.
“Until the house is ready,”
I continue.
“we’ll take the time to get to know each other. I want Bree and Micah to know me just as much as I want to know them. I want to learn everything about all three of you. Just know…I’ll be staying with you in the meantime. There’s no way in hell I can leave you alone right now.”
“I guess that could work,”
Lila says softly.
“Then the kids could get used to the idea of us moving in with you.”
“We’re moving in with Max?”
Bree shouts from Skip’s arms.
“I mean…with my new daddy? Wait…are you my new daddy?”
Smiling, I lean in, kiss Lila, then help her off my lap and walk over to Bree.
“Only if that’s alright with you,”
I say, taking her small hands in mine.
“Heck yeah,”
she says, grinning.
“Micah will be happy, too. He likes that you make Mama happy.”
“Good,”
I smile, kissing her forehead.
“Now, why are you out of bed?”
“Because Uncle Skip said if I picked him as my favorite uncle, he’d carry me around like a princess forever.”
“I see.”
I glance at Skip, who’s standing there with a bold, unashamed grin.
“But don’t tell him,”
Bree stage-whispers so loudly everyone hears.
“Uncle Micah will always be my favorite.”
The men laugh as Skip parades Bree around the room like he's her personal throne, her small hands raised like a queen being carried through her court.
The sound of her giggles fills every corner, softening the hard edges of the day.
The doctors have her on enough pain medication that I know she doesn’t feel anything. The fact that she’s still awake shocks me, though.
I walk back to Lila and pull her into my arms, tucking her against me until the noise fades.
“I do love you, baby,”
I murmur, just for her ears.
“I don’t understand how it happened so fast, but I’m not going to question it. Definitely not going to fight it. Just know that you’re mine. You, Bree, Micah. All mine.”
The truth of my words settles deep, heavier than a vow, warm as a heartbeat. Not long ago, I’d felt like an outsider. Like I didn’t belong, like I wasn’t worthy of being here. My brothers proved me wrong. They reminded me I’m still a Shadow. Still family.
Then I met Lila. And everything clicked into place.
I do belong.
I belong right here.