Chapter 7
Sage
When Havoc returns, his expression is darker, his focus sharpened to a blade.
“We need to talk,” he says, all business.
He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Just takes my hand and leads me past the bar toward a hallway. I follow without resisting. Maybe because his grip is careful. Maybe because the look on his face says that if I refused, he’d still get me where he needed me to be.
We pass a few closed doors. He stops at one and unlocks it with a key.
The room inside catches me off guard. A couch. A television. A small kitchen tucked into the corner. Another doorway leads to what looks like a bathroom. It’s not what I expected.
“This is yours?” I ask softly.
“Sometimes,” he says. “If things run late, I crash here. Some of us keep quarters on-site so we’re close if something goes sideways.”
He shuts the door behind us and leans against it.
The sound of the lock is too loud. The air changes. Thickens. Suddenly I feel how alone we are.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“We think someone’s asking about you,” he says bluntly. “Roy ran into a guy at the gas station. Asking about a baker with green eyes. Tan sedan, out-of-state plates. He didn’t push, and the guy left. But Ghost also saw that same car tailing you one night.”
Cold spreads through me like cracked ice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say automatically. The lie is too smooth. Practiced.
Havoc’s eyes narrow.
“You don’t trust me yet. I get that.” He pushes off the door, walking toward me. “But you need to understand something.”
He stops inches away. Heat radiates from him, steady and grounding, chasing the chill from my blood.
“I would burn the world before I let someone take you from me,” he says. “So you need to decide if you’re going to let me protect you… or keep running until there’s nowhere left to go.”
My throat tightens. Tears sting my eyes, hot and sharp.
“I don’t want to run anymore,” I whisper.
His hand lifts, thumb brushing under my eye, catching a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.
“Then tell me,” he says, voice rough. “Tell me who’s after you. Let me handle it. Let me be what you need.”
I inhale shakily. Then it comes out, all at once.
“I worked at a hotel. In the bakery. I delivered a cake to a suite and walked in on a judge taking money from cartel guys to throw a murder trial. They saw me. I ran. Packed a bag and left everything.”
Saying it feels like stripping down to bone.
“I’ve been hiding ever since. I use my middle name. My last name is fake.” My voice wavers. “My real name is Naomi Sage Bartlett.”
The silence is heavy. But Havoc doesn’t flinch. He just… absorbs it. Something in him locks into place.
“How long ago?” he asks.
“Three months. I called the police, but someone must’ve tipped the judge Flores off. No one came. That night, men broke into my apartment. I saw them from across the street. I took a bus out of town.”
His jaw tightens.
“You got family?”
I let out a brittle laugh. “Parents who forgot I exist once they remarried. Cousins I haven’t seen in a decade. No one would even notice if I disappeared.”
“Bullshit,” he growls. “I’d notice. Ghost would. Viper would. Every damn man in this club would.”
He cups my face in both hands, thumbs grazing my cheeks.
“I know it’s hard to believe,” he says, softer now. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
Something inside me cracks open. Relief, fear, want… all tangled together.
I step closer until my chest brushes his.
“Why?” I whisper. “You barely know me.”
He exhales. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sigh.
“I wasn’t joking before,” he says. “You’re mine now. My woman. Mine to protect. Mine to put babies into. Mine to marry.” His eyes burn. "You have no idea how hard it is not to pin you against something right now.”
My pulse stumbles. Heat flares low. And yet, I believe him. Every raw, possessive word.
“But,” he adds, grounding himself, “we handle this first.”
I nod, heart pounding. No one’s ever said they’d burn the world for me. I don’t know what scares me more, that he means it… or that I want him to.
His voice drops, low and rough. “What do I call you, then? Naomi? Or Sage?”
I meet his eyes, steady now. “Sage,” I say. “Naomi was who they tried to break. Sage is who came out the other side.”
His jaw tightens, like he feels every word. Then a slow grin curves his mouth.
“Sage it is,” he murmurs. Then he leans in, brushing his lips against my ear. “Sweetheart when it’s just us.”
Heat licks up my spine. “I like that,” I whisper.
He pulls back, eyes dark with something I can’t name. “Yeah. I know.”
Then he presses a kiss to my forehead, slow and steady, before stepping back.
“Stay here tonight,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Stay with me,” I whisper. My cheeks burn. “I want to be near you.”
He swears under his breath.
“You’re testing my damn resolve.” He cups my cheek again, gentler this time. “Get comfortable. I’ll be back. Gotta talk to the guys.”
At the door, he pauses with his hand on the knob.
“Lock this behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me, Ghost, Roy, or Viper.”
“Noted,” I say, voice shaky.
As soon as he’s gone, I lock the door and sink onto the couch.
Yes, I’m scared.
But beneath the fear is something unfamiliar. A quiet, steady warmth in my chest.
Maybe it’s because I told someone my real name.
Maybe it’s because a man who radiates danger and safety in equal measure just promised to set the world on fire for me.
I curl up, breath hitching.
Outside, I hear the low murmur of voices as Havoc speaks with his men.
The sound of them is a strange comfort.
Meaning: You are not alone anymore.
It’s the next morning, and Havoc still hasn’t come back.
I wake in the quiet space of his clubhouse room, sunlight bleeding in through the slats of the blinds. The couch has left my neck stiff and sore, but I barely notice. My mind is already running.
It’s Thursday.
I remember I promised the ladies at the community center I’d be there to help set up the monthly lunch.
I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes. There’s no message on my phone. No knock at the door. Just silence. A knot twists low in my stomach. I know Havoc said he would handle things, but part of me expected him to be back before morning. At least to check on me.
I glance at the door, where I triple checked the lock last night, then at the empty space around me.
Maybe he’s just being careful.
Maybe I’m being paranoid.
Still, I hesitate.
I should stay. That’s what he asked. Lock the door. Wait.
But the community center is three blocks away. Broad daylight. Full of people. And nobody’s made a move in three months. Not one. Maybe Havoc is seeing shadows where there aren’t any. Or maybe he’s so used to danger that he forgets the world outside his circle isn’t always trying to kill you.
I’ll be quick. In and out. Help with lunch, show my face, come straight back.
I hate the idea of letting the ladies down. They have already started teasing me about my biker.
I can’t bail on them just because I’m scared.
I fold the blanket neatly over the couch and head to the small bathroom to freshen up. My reflection looks paler than usual. My eyes are too wide. But I lift my chin anyway.
“I’m not hiding anymore,” I whisper to myself. “I can do this.”
I pull my hair back and grab one of Havoc’s hoodies since I didn’t bring clothes to change into. It smells like him. Clean and worn and grounding all at once. When I open the door, I glance down the hallway, half hoping he’ll be there.
He isn’t.
The clubhouse is quiet, wrapped in a morning hush. No one in the common area yet. I let myself out the side entrance and start the walk to the community center, my heart thudding hard and steady.
You’re fine, I tell myself. You’re not being followed.
But the air feels too still. Like the world is holding its breath.
I keep going anyway.
At the community center, I settle into my routine, setting up tables and waiting for the seniors to arrive.
Then the front door opens.
Three men in suits step inside.
They don’t belong here. Their shoes are too polished. Their smiles too smooth. My blood turns to ice.
“Miss Bartlett?” the tallest one asks, his tone easy. Practiced. “We’ve been looking for you.”
My heart lurches. I wipe my hands on my apron and reach for my phone, fingers shaking as I hit the speed dial Havoc programmed for Ghost. I slide the phone into the flour bin before they can see it.
“I’m sorry,” I say, forcing my voice to stay calm. “You have the wrong person.”
“We have a photo,” another man says. He pulls out a folded sheet of paper and opens it.
My face stares back at me. Grainy, but unmistakable.
“Naomi Sage Bartlett,” he says. “We just want to talk.”
Panic claws up my throat. I take a step back, my hands trembling. “I don’t know who that is.”
“Don’t make this difficult,” the tall one warns, his smile fading. “Judge Flores is very eager to see you again.”
The name slams me back into that hotel suite. My pulse spikes so hard I feel dizzy.
“Please leave,” I say, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it.
“We will,” the third man says, smiling like a snake. “With you.”
He lunges.
The tall one grabs my wrist. I scream, but it cuts off when a hand clamps over my mouth. Flour explodes into the air as I struggle, white clouds blinding me. My mind screams Havoc’s name.
“Get the fuck away from her.”
Ghost’s voice slices through the chaos.
Everything happens at once. One moment I’m being dragged toward the back door. The next there’s a deafening bang and the hand over my mouth loosens.
Ghost moves like smoke. Fast. Precise.
The tall man drops with a grunt, clutching his knee. The other two scramble, reaching for guns I hadn’t even noticed.
I freeze.
Ghost doesn’t.
He disarms one with a brutal twist and drops him with a punch to the throat. He kicks the other man’s gun under a table.
“Out,” he snaps at me, jerking his chin toward the door. “Now.”
I bolt into the alley, lungs burning, heart pounding. Tires screech as a black SUV slides to a stop.
Viper.
“Get in,” he shouts.
I scramble into the back seat. Ghost dives in after me and slams the door. Viper floors it, the alley blurring past.
“Where is he?” My voice cracks. “Where’s Havoc?”
“On his way,” Viper says, eyes flicking to the mirror. “Hold on, cupcake. Things are about to get real.”