Chapter 10 Haven
Haven
Just when I think I’m going to chew my thumbnail completely down, I see them. Relief floods me at first, then horror comes.
Ripper has Paulie, and both are bloodied. Hammer has a woman, and Warden looks like he’s seen a ghost.
What happened to them?
“We need to get back to the club.” Ripper groans the words, his brows pinching together. “He needs to be looked at.”
I’m already putting the van in gear, fleeing the scene.
“We need to go to a hospital.” Saying the obvious, I’m met with a pained laugh. “You seriously want me to go back?”
“Hospitals ask too many questions.” He turns to look in the back. “Call Leah. Tell her that she’s going to need a lot of supplies.”
Warden doesn’t need to be told twice.
As I’m panicking about the blood soaking into the seat, Ripper’s pulling out his own phone, groaning under his breath.
“This is going to suck.” He sighs again and presses the phone to his ear. As if by habit, his mouth curves into that charming smile of his. “Prez. So listen, I’ve got bad news.”
Despite not being there to witness, Ripper paints a pretty good picture of what I missed out on. My skin prickles at the mention of human trafficking. My fingers grow tighter on the wheel as I lift my gaze at the rearview mirror at Paulie.
Who has he been getting himself involved with?
When silence meets Ripper, he clears his throat. “Judge… ?”
“He’s pissed, isn’t he?” Warden groans. “He’ll have to know we helped him.”
Ripper stares at his phone, letting out a soft laugh. “He hung up on me. Oh yeah, he’s pissed.”
The vehicle suddenly grows more tense, and I can feel the weight. This can’t be good. The feeling doesn’t go away in the slightest throughout the entire hour it takes to get back.
Once we reach the clubhouse, my breathing quickens at the sight before us.
“Looks like we’ve got a welcome party.” Ripper’s the one to point out all the bikers standing around, waiting.
“How can you make jokes, man?” Warden sighs, accepting whatever this means.
Ripper shrugs, already shoving his door open. “You can thank trauma for that one. Let’s go.”
With the order given, we’re left to face whatever wrath is coming from their president.
Warden helps Paulie out, but Ripper’s the one who leads him out far enough to carefully set him on the ground. It’s the sound of my brother calling for me that makes my body move toward him.
I take a half-step forward, my entire being straining toward him, but Ripper moves in front of me, a solid, blood-stained wall.
He’s always distracting, always fighting for my attention, a force of nature I can’t seem to navigate around. I want to scold him, to shove past him and get to Paulie, but the words die in my throat.
There’s something weird about his expression. The usual mocking glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by a grim intensity. He looks… worried. For me.
“Judge isn’t like Blaze.” The words are low, urgent. My breath catches, a tiny, trapped sound, when he leans in and presses a firm, startling kiss to my forehead. The contact is brief, but it burns, a brand of unexpected tenderness amidst the violence. “So don’t hold this against him, alright?”
Hold what against him?
I don’t have to wonder for long.
Ripper turns and walks toward the scowling, bearded man—Judge. The air crackles with a tension so thick it feels suffocating.
I don’t think Ripper can get a single word out before Judge’s fist lashes out. A sickening, wet crack echoes in the sudden silence, and I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth.
Even more horrifying, Ripper lets him. His head snaps back from the impact, but he doesn’t raise a hand in defense. He just takes it, his body swaying but his feet planted.
No one stops this. The other men, these hardened, brutal men, just watch. They’re an audience to what looks like a public execution.
Judge doesn’t stop with one punch, either.
He hits him again. And again. A relentless, methodical beating.
The sound is awful, a brutal percussion of flesh and bone.
I see Judge’s knuckles split open, painting Ripper’s face with his own blood.
It’s a sight straight from a horror movie, one I’m forced to watch with my eyes wide open.
A weak pressure on my hand pulls me back. Paulie. Somehow, he has the strength to reach out and squeeze my fingers, his grip surprisingly tight.
“I’m sorry, Haven.” His breathing is labored and unsteady, each inhale a ragged struggle. He apologizes again, and this time he sounds wounded, soul-deep.
“I don’t know how it ended up this way, but you have to stay strong for me.” My eyes water, the scene of Ripper’s beating blurring behind a film of tears. I squeeze his hand back, my head shaking. “Don’t worry about it. We’re going to get help. You’re going to be okay.”
He tries to speak more, his lips moving, but I shush him gently, leaning close. It’s impossible to block out the sounds behind us.
“Save your strength,” I whisper, the words choked. “We can talk about it when you get better, so don’t you dare go dying after everything they just went through to get you back.”
They. He. Ripper’s still going through it, even now. The rhythmic, sickening thuds haven’t stopped. And a terrible, confusing truth settles in my chest, cold and hard as stone.
Watching him take that punishment, for me, for my brother…
I realize I’m more upset about this, about his silent, brutal submission, than I am about everything I’ve gone through in the last two days.
The fear, the running, the terror—it all condenses into this single, horrifying moment, and it has his name written all over it.
A woman with a medical bag approaches. She flinches when she sees the state Paulie’s in, and introduces herself as Leah.
I’m relieved when she’s quick to check him for injuries. Despite how bad he looks, she looks rather relieved. That has to be a good thing, right?
“You’re going to be in pain for a while, pal.” Putting on gloves, she’s pulling out antiseptic-smelling swabs. “But you’re going to live.”
Relief floods me at her words, but I’m back to flinching when I hear another grunted hit in the distance. It’s the sound of Ripper meeting the ground, ending this “punishment.”
Leah gives me a weak smile, patting my hand. “Ripper will be fine. This is… how they do things around here.”
I don’t like it. It’s animalistic. Her grimace suggests that she seems to agree. The way her eyes drift toward Hammer and Warden makes me think she’s worried about them, too.
But they don’t get hit. They get scolded. Their punishments will follow after this “war” is resolved. Hammer’s left to deal with the woman in his arms, and Warden stays close to us, forced to face what could be awaiting him in the near future.
Ripper’s left in the dirt. No one is coming to help him. It’s unfair that they can’t see what good he’s done.
Now that I know Paulie’s going to be okay, I move toward Ripper, my body demanding I be the person to approach him. I haven’t even gotten the chance to thank him.
“Ripper…”
“Tell me I’m still good-looking.” Reaching for me, he grabs my hand as I kneel down to take in the damage.
“You look like a truck hit you.” Telling him the truth, I catch myself sniffing when he groans.
“That’s our Prez. He’s a force to be reckoned with.” Even now, Ripper sounds amazed. He must have a concussion.
“He could’ve killed you.” My voice catches as the worry pours from me. Reaching for him, I carefully touch his bloodied cheek.
Ripper leans into my touch, his smile softening. “Nah. He just had to do what he had to.”
I don’t get it. I don’t get any of this. My poor heart hurts for this man, and I don’t understand why. Seeing him in pain like this makes me want to take some of it from him so he can suffer less.
“Don’t look so sad.” He lifts his hand, lightly touching my cheek. “Trust me, this is nothing. I’m going to be fine. Still need to cash in that sweet offer of yours.”
“Now is not the time to talk about that.” Huffing out my frustration, his boldness helps dry my eyes.
The crunching steps approaching us ruin the moment.
“You. You’re the spy?”
I look up, seeing Judge glaring down at me like I’m the enemy. My heart stills, a trapped bird in a cage of ribs.
Ripper groans, forcing himself to sit up. The movement is stiff, pained. “She’s my old lady. Haven.”
The words hang in the air, like a correction, a clear statement made.
I’m his what?
Judge seems to flinch at that, too, a tiny crack in his granite composure. “You can’t be serious.”
Ripper reaches out and pinches a strand of my hair between his blood-slicked fingers, staining the chestnut strands a rusty red. His smile turns soft. “I am.”
Confusion wars with a sudden spike of fear. I’ve never been more lost, but I see this is tilting Judge’s world. The frustration in his jaw and how he pinches his nose like he’s staving off a migraine all scream that this is a big deal.
My whole body flinches when he kneels, bringing his face level with mine. His brows furrow together, his scowl sharp enough to cut glass.
“Then let me make this very clear, Haven. Threaten my club by running back to them, and Ripper’s the one who is going to be the one to take responsibility.” His voice is low, a deadly whisper. “Next time, I won’t stop until he’s dead.”
The threat isn’t aimed at me. It’s aimed through me. And Ripper, the absolute madman, picks the worst possible time to cough out a wet, ragged laugh.
He can tell this is serious, can’t he? Does anything ever pierce that shell of his?
“I’m not a freaking spy,” I sputter, the denial feeling weak and childish in the face of his absolute conviction.
Judge doesn’t care. His message was delivered. He just stands back up, turning his attention to my brother. Watching him walk over to Paulie, I’m sure he’s going to threaten him next, and start a line of questioning.
“He doesn’t know you yet; just give him some time.” Ripper’s voice is a low rumble, for my ears only. “He’ll warm up to you in no time.”
Much to my dismay, he moves to stand on his own. As he clutches his side, I see the dark, wet bloom of blood seeping through his shirt. He’s wounded.
This man is going to be the death of me.
He leads me over to Leah, who’s already pulling out what she needs from her medkit to help him next.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I watch as he peels off his ruined shirt, revealing the brutal landscape of his torso. A fresh, angry gash cuts across his ribs, weeping.
Among the old, silvery scars mapping his skin, this new one looks like a violent signature. He’s going to have another scar. My own chest aches, a hollow, phantom pain forming from just looking at it.
Leah works with efficient, unsentimental hands. Ripper doesn’t flinch, his gaze distant, as if his mind is somewhere else entirely. When she finishes, the wound is cleaned and bandaged.
I watch in disbelief as he simply nods his thanks, pulls his shirt back on, and leaves us to join Judge with his interrogation. Not a single grudge held for the death threat or his punishment. Just business as usual.
“Hey, what’s an old lady?” Hugging myself, I try to find some warmth, some stability. “Ripper called me his old lady. I’m pretty sure he’s a lot older than me.”
I don’t expect Leah to laugh, a short, surprised burst of sound, and even she looks startled by it.
“When pigs fly, I guess,” she mutters, shaking her head as she works on cleaning up her bloody mess. She looks at me, her eyes knowing. “Means he declared you as his.”
I just stare at her, the words not computing. Declared? Like a piece of territory? Like a…
Leah sees the realization hit and offers a wry, almost pitying smile. “Don’t hold it against him for being a little extreme. I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend before. He doesn’t know how things work. They’re all like that.” She gestures vaguely at the club members. “It’s… a lot.”
Girlfriend?
The word feels alien, completely inadequate for whatever just happened. That’s something that should be discussed, whispered over a candlelit dinner, not declared to a murderous club president after what just happened at the docks.
I look back at Ripper. Despite the gore and injuries, he possesses a brutal beauty and feral intensity that is both terrifying and magnetic. He’s all hard lines, carved from violence and survival.
I’m out of my depth in his world, a minnow in a shark tank.
Plus… I have a life to go back to. Or I did. The thought is a sudden, cold splash of reality. Can I go back? If the club—if Ripper—has made an enemy of Crimson Road, then I don’t even know if I’ll have a home to return to.
This was supposed to be a way to help Paulie, a simple rescue mission.
I’m hit with the chilling truth. My brother might be safe, but I’ve just jumped from the frying pan into the heart of the fire. Now, I’m wondering if I’m the one who’s going to need help, too.