Chapter 20 The Final Showdown
TWENTY
THE FINAL SHOWDOWN
Rage
Reaper went back to the clubhouse. He’s been on the phone, organizing the fight.
We’ve split up and have been calling and going to every place of accommodation in the surrounding towns.
We hope we’ll find Rose because we doubt the Russians will be staying far away if they’re monitoring who’s going to and from the clubhouse.
I can’t focus, so I’ve teamed up with Viper. He’s been doing the talking to all the business owners. We’ve got eyes everywhere, but so far, nothing. We’ve spent the morning looking around in the suburb of Opal Bay. It’s insane how run-down this suburb is compared to Crown Village.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I snatch it up as my heart leaps into my throat. It’s Cash.
“I’ve got something,” he says. “At Opal Bay trailer park. The owner says there are Russians staying here. I’m in the front office. Get here now.”
My lungs collapse. Maybe we’ve finally found Rose.
“Cash thinks he’s located them, we’ve got to move,” I bellow to Viper.
I’m already racing to my bike. Viper’s right behind me; he’s on the phone to the club members.
The roar of our engines fills the air as our bikes surge forward, the tires kicking up pebbles.
My heart threatens to burst out of my chest it’s pumping so hard. My mind turns to Rose. Is she okay? Is she even alive?
When we pull up to the trailer park, Cash is waiting in the front office, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “Owner says they’re in the back. Trailers number twelve and thirteen. Two men and a woman. He doesn’t recall seeing another woman with them, though.”
I nod, my jaw tight. It sounds like them—Ivan, his manager, and Ivan’s missus.
Viper is VP of the club, next in charge while Reaper is at the clubhouse, so he motions for me and Cash to stay back. We move as a unit, weapons drawn. The sound of our boots crunching on the gravel is the only noise we make as we approach the trailer.
The trailer is small and looks like it’s been here for decades. My grip tightens on my gun, my finger hovering over the trigger. A man and woman inside are yelling at each other in Russian.
Viper kicks the door in with a single, powerful kick. We storm inside, weapons raised.
The man is Ivan. He’s standing in the middle of the room, and his hands shoot up the moment he spots our guns. His girlfriend stands behind him, her wide eyes darting between us. She’s frozen in fear.
The manager sits stiffly on the couch, his arms raised in surrender, his face pale.
I move quickly, my heart pounding as I sweep through the small trailer. I check the bedroom, then the bathroom, my movements quick and desperate.
But it’s empty. My heart sinks, the disappointment hitting me with full force. Rose isn’t here.
“Where is she?” I growl, stepping forward. “Where the fuck is Rose?” I bark with barely restrained violence.
The woman cowers.
Ivan smirks. “She’s not here,” he says. “She escaped.” He turns his head and gives the woman a hard look.
For a moment, his words don’t register. She escaped? My Rose? A flicker of pride cuts through the fear, but it’s gone just as quickly. If she escaped, where is she now?
“You’re lying,” I snarl, stepping closer.
They could be hiding her elsewhere. My vision blurs with rage and my fist connects with his face.
The impact sends him stumbling back, blood spraying from his nose.
I don’t stop. I hit him again and again, the anger boiling over.
He took her. He hurt her. He doesn’t get to walk away from this.
“Rage!” Viper’s voice cuts through the haze, and I feel a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back. I’m breathing hard, my fists trembling, but I step away, my chest heaving. Ivan spits blood onto the floor, his smirk gone.
Demon pulls up outside in the club van. He steps into the trailer, his knife already in his hand. His grin is wide, wicked, and full of promise. “Well, well,” he says, his voice cheerful. “Looks like we’ve got some trash to take out.”
Viper nods, and that’s all Demon needs. The Russians are bound, gagged, and dragged out to the van by Demon and Cash, their protests falling on deaf ears.
But I can’t focus on them. My mind is still on Rose. Where is she? Is she okay? The fear is back, and it’s eating me alive.
My phone buzzes again, and I grab it. It’s Zara.
“Rage,” she says, her voice calm but urgent. “Rose is at Misty’s Safe Haven. She’s got some minor injuries, but she’s okay. She’s upset, but she’s safe. You have to get here now. She needs you.”
Relief hits me like a tidal wave, so overwhelming that my knees almost buckle. She’s safe. She’s alive. But the fear doesn’t completely leave. I need to see her. I need to hold her, to make sure she’s really okay.
I turn to Viper. “Zara said Rose is at Misty’s Safe Haven. I’m going there now.”
Viper’s shoulders slump. “Good news, man. You go get your ol’ lady, and I’ll inform the club.”
“What about the Russians?” I still want to hurt them . . . badly.
He shakes his head. “You focus on your girl. I have a feeling Demon is itching to serve some justice for you.” He gives me a mischievous grin.
I trust that he will, and with that I leave.
The engine thunders beneath me. The road blurs as I race toward her, my pulse soaring with every mile. I don’t care about anything else. All I care about is Rose. And I’m not stopping until she’s back in my arms.
Rose
I’m waiting just inside the front door of Misty’s Safe Haven with Zara.
A rumble from a motorcycle fills the air and my heart goes thud .
. . thud . . . thud. Rage pulls into the driveway.
I run outside as he yanks his helmet off.
The second his gaze locks with mine, I feel the tears welling up again.
“Rose,” he breathes, his voice breaking as he steps to me in three long strides.
He cups my face ever so gently, and it makes my chest ache.
His eyes roam over my face and body, taking in every bruise, every mark, every sign of what I’ve been through, and I see the pain in his eyes.
“Your face,” he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly over the tender area.
“And your wrists . . .” He takes my hand in his, looking at the red marks the rope left behind.
His fingers trace the angry lines. His expression twists with guilt.
“I’m okay now. I’m with you,” I manage to say, though my voice is brittle.
He doesn’t look convinced. His hands move to my shoulders, then down my arms, checking me over like he’s making sure I’m really here.
“Did they hurt you anywhere else?” His jaw tightens, and I know what he’s alluding to.
“No, it’s just my face, wrists, and ankles. I’m okay, Rage. I swear.” I try to reassure him, but he looks devastated.
He pulls me into his arms, holding me so tightly that I can hear his heart pounding against mine.
I bury my face in his chest, the familiar scent of leather and his cologne wrapping around me like a shield.
Something inside of me breaks, and I sob into him, all the pain and relief pouring out of me.
He strokes my hair, presses his lips against the top of my head, and whispers, “I thought I’d lost you.
I thought I was never going to see you again. ”
I pull back just enough to look at him, my hands clutching the front of his cut.
“I remembered what you told me,” I say, “about self-defense. About not hesitating. She had a gun. She was waving it around. The men were gone. It was my only chance to escape. So I slammed the door in her face and took the gun off her. I throat-punched her, just like you taught me, and I ran.”
His eyes widen, and for a moment, he just stares at me. Then a slow, proud smile spreads across his face. “You did that?” he asks, his voice filled with awe. “You got away?”
I nod, sniffling. “An older woman picked me up on the road. She brought me here. I didn’t know if you’d find me, but I just . . . I couldn’t let you fight again. I couldn’t let you get hurt because of me.”
He shakes his head, his hands framing my face again. “Rose, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. I’m so damn proud of you. You saved yourself. You’re incredible.”
The tears fall as he leans in and kisses me, his lips soft and warm against mine. The kiss is slow, tender, filled with all the things we can’t put into words. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine and I can see the pain in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I wasn’t there to protect you. Seeing you hurt like this . . . it’s killing me, Rose.”
I shake my head, my hands moving to his cheeks. “Don’t,” I say softly. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m just glad I found the courage to escape. I couldn’t let you fight again. I couldn’t let them hurt you. I love you too much.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, they’re filled with so much emotion that it takes my breath away. “I love you too,” he says, his voice rough. “More than anything. And I swear, I’ll never let anything like this happen to you again.”
I nod, leaning into him, letting his warmth and strength surround me. For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel safe.
But then a thought creeps into my mind, and I pull back slightly. “What happened to the Russians?” I ask cautiously. “Did you . . .?”
His expression hardens. “Don’t worry about it,” he says firmly. “They won’t be a problem anymore.”
They’ll be punished, though I don’t know to what extent. A part of me wants to ask, but I push the thought to the back of my mind. Right now the only thing that matters is being here, in Rage’s arms.
I notice the flash of red on his knuckles.
My stomach tightens, but not with fear. He must have hit someone, probably Ivan.
But this time, his violence doesn’t scare me.
He would have done anything to save me, to protect me.
It’s who he is, and I accept that. Sometimes there is a need for violence.
Just like I had to fight my way out of a dangerous situation.
I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I’m just glad you’re okay,” I whisper.
He holds me tighter, his lips brushing against my temple. “We’re okay,” he says softly.