Chapter 22 Kelly
Twenty-Two
Kelly
Every memory that returns feels like a flame igniting and Riot is the spark to set it ablaze.
This other compound is nothing like the previous places. It feels older. Deeper. As if it was carved from the earth itself long before the Kings existed. I knew they were a group of outlaws, but to have so many places across the state is crazy to me.
Thick concrete walls. Steel reinforcements. A long hallway lined with dim amber lights that hum quietly like distant bees. Doors with biometric locks. Rooms built not for comfort, but survival.
Riot never lets go of my hand as he guides me through the entrance tunnel, and I don’t try to pull away. My fingers fit in his too naturally, like this isn’t our first time walking like this.
Maybe it isn’t.
Maybe I’ve done this before followed him into darkness because his presence cut a path I could trust.
Chux walks ahead, barking orders to the brothers escorting us. Stunt and Nitro flank our sides. Shaft and Mellow take the rear. Their weapons are out, their steps heavy.
It should scare me. All this force. All this tension. But instead, I feel something else rising in me.
A quiet, dangerous resolve.
If Jonas Greene wants me, he’ll have to tear me from the Kings’ hands. From Riot’s hands.
The hallway opens into a secured living area, simple, but stable-looking. A small couch. A cot-style bed. A sturdy metal table. No windows. No weak points.
“This is where you two will stay until we move,” Chux commands, swiping a card to unlock the room.
Riot stiffens. “We’re not stayin’. I’m headin’ out with the boys.”
Chux stops. Turns.
His expression is calm, too calm. “Not tonight.”
“This shit is personal. He wants to fuck with me and he used my woman to do it. Unacceptable.”
“She’s not stayin’ here without you.” Chux counters and I fight back the smile that wants to form that he said it so I didn’t have to.
Riot stiffens visibly.
Chux holds up one hand, patience thinning.
“She isn’t gonna want to stay without you.
Keep the shit simple, brother. You’re staying with her.
” Chux doesn’t leave it there, he continues, “You’re emotionally compromised,” Chux states plainly.
“And she needs you more than we need your fists tonight. Let the Kings hunt. You protect her.”
Riot opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
No sound comes out. He hates being benched. It burns through him like acid. But he also can’t walk away from me. Not now. Not after tonight. Not after I remembered part of us. Not after nearly losing me again.
He settles for a single curt nod.
Chux steps in close, lowering his voice. “We finish this, Riot. You have my word.”
Riot nods again, smaller this time.
Then Chux gives me a soft smile. “We’ll get you answers, Kelly.”
I nod, breath tight as I feel my anxiety climbing. “Thank you.”
Chux and the others file out slowly, one by one, until the heavy metal door seals shut with a low hydraulic hiss. The room suddenly feels too quiet.
Too intimate.
Too full of whatever Riot and I haven’t said yet.
He stands a few feet away from me, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, blood drying near his temple and across his knuckles. He looks like every battle I’ve ever imagined a man fighting. And he looks at me like I’m the one thing he hasn’t figured out how to protect properly.
“You hurt anywhere?” he asks finally.
I shake my head.
“You’re shakin’,” he murmurs.
“So are you.”
He lets out a humorless huff. “Yeah. Well. Comes with the job description.”
“You almost died,” I whisper.
He doesn’t flinch.
“You almost watched me die,” he counters. “Again.”
The word again lands heavy between us.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t,” he snaps, but not unkindly. “Don’t say you’re sorry for livin’. Don’t say you’re sorry for survivin’. Don’t say sorry for anything that happened tonight. You saved my life.”
I swallow hard. “I reacted. That’s all.”
“That’s not all,” he growls. “You stepped out from behind cover. Shot a man to protect me. You got between me and my end.”
“Because I love—” I slap my mouth shut. But it’s too late. The words slipped.
His eyes darken, not with fear, not with panic, but with something that looks almost like he is committing this very second to memory.
“You remember that too?” he whispers.
“I,” I inhale slowly. “It feels true. Even if the full memories aren’t there. When I said it just now, I meant it. I feel it even if I can’t explain it.”
Riot steps closer. One slow movement. Another. Another. Until he’s standing directly in front of me. He takes my hand. Brings it to his chest. Presses my palm flat against the heat of his heart.
“That’s where it stays,” he murmurs. “Memory or no memory. I’m not foolish enough to lose this again.”
My throat tightens. He cups my face, gentle, devastating. “I need you to know somethin’.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
His thumb strokes my cheek, slow and soft and grounding. “I would’ve told you before the accident. If I wasn’t such a coward. If I didn’t think you deserved more than a man with a life lived in the dark.”
“Tell me now,” I whisper.
His voice cracks. Just barely.
“I loved you too.” He inhales, “I loved you then and I love you now, Kelly.”
A sob punches out of me before I can stop it. He catches me instantly, arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against his chest.
I bury my face in his shirt, gripping him like he’s the only solid thing in a collapsing world.
“You can’t lose it again,” he whispers into my hair. “You can’t forget this again. I can’t. I can’t do that twice, sunshine.”
“I won’t,” I whisper. “I promise.”
He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. Searching. Needing. Breaking and rebuilding all at once.
“I wanted to fix it,” he whispers, voice raw. “I wanted you to know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“And now?” I ask softly.
“I’m gonna fix all of it,” he murmurs. “Every piece. Every memory. Every bruise. Every broken thing I left behind.”
I don’t know who moves first. It might be him. It might be me.
But suddenly we’re closer. His forehead against mine. His hands sliding into my hair. My fingers curling into his shirt.
It’s not the kiss from the safehouse, the desperate one, the remembered one.
This is quieter. Softer. A breath shared. A promise remade.
I tilt forward slightly, he stops me with a soft groan, fingers tightening in my hair.
“Kelly…” he whispers. “I want to. God, I want to. But not tonight. Not like this. Not when your heart’s cracked open and we’re stuck underground preparing for war.”
My cheeks flush. “I didn’t mean.”
He hushes me with a thumb across my cheek. “I know what you meant. I know what you feel. I believe it. But I’m not takin’ one piece of you while you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I state and realize it’s true.
He searches my eyes like he’s checking for lies.
“Maybe not,” he says softly, “but you’re not whole yet either. And when I kiss you again, I want all of you rememberin’ it. Not just pieces.”
My heart flutters so violently it almost hurts. Patience is hard when my entire life feels like some crazy chaotic mess. But somehow I know this will be worth the wait.