Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DELILAH
I t’s been six months since I left Hollow Ridge and came back to the city. The decision to leave wasn’t just easy—it was necessary. The clubs’ wars, the constant threats, the bloodshed—none of it was my world, and I didn’t want it to be. At the time, it felt like the only choice to protect myself and maybe even Ryder, though he’d never see it that way. Now, as I drove back, the weight of everything I’d left behind pressed heavily on my chest.
The highway stretched out ahead of me, endless and unyielding. It had been my escape route all those months ago, a lifeline out of chaos and into anonymity. I’d convinced myself then that Hollow Ridge was nothing but a dead end, a place where dreams were buried under the weight of secrets and violence. The rhythmic thrum of the tires against the asphalt now did little to calm the storm in my chest as I headed back.
I’d told myself it wasn’t my fight. I wasn’t part of the Crimson Reapers, I'm not part of the Black Vipers, I wasn’t tied to the endless battles they waged with their enemies. Leaving Ryder had been practical—a way to protect myself from a life I didn’t want to live, one filled with chaos and bloodshed. I didn’t regret walking away; I couldn’t afford to. Still, the thought of going back now, of telling him about the baby, felt heavier than any decision I’d made before. It wasn’t love that made this difficult—it was the knowledge that our worlds clashed in every possible way. The only thing connecting us now was a truth I couldn’t keep to myself any longer.
But now, everything has changed. Six months had passed since I’d walked away, six months since I left behind Ryder and everything he represented. I thought I was protecting myself, shielding my future child from the chaos and danger of his world. At the time, I justified my decision by convincing myself it was for the best. After all, growing up in an MC wasn’t what I wanted for my baby. But now? Now I wasn’t sure anymore. The choice to come back and face him, to tell him the truth, felt harder than walking away ever had.
Until life threw me a curveball I wasn’t expecting.
I glanced down at the small swell of my stomach, a bump that had been impossible to hide these past few weeks. The realization still felt surreal, even after all this time. I’d spent the last five months trying to come to terms with it, but no amount of preparation could dull the anxiety clawing at me now as I drove toward the very thing I’d been running from.
The air in my tiny New York apartment had felt stifling that day, pressing in from all sides like a cage. I sat on the edge of a worn leather couch, my entire body trembling as I clutched the pregnancy test in my hand. The faint double lines stared back at me, unyielding and undeniable. Pregnant. The word hit me like a sledgehammer, knocking the breath from my lungs as panic set in. My heart raced, my breaths shallow as I stared at the test like it would suddenly change if I willed it hard enough.
Pregnant.
The word echoed in my head, louder with each passing second, drowning out everything else. My hands shook so violently I had to set the test down, afraid I might break it. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, a mix of disbelief, fear, and something I couldn’t name, twisting in my chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not to me. I had a plan—a plan that didn’t include this, didn’t include tying myself forever to a man like Ryder or the life I’d been so desperate to escape. But life had other plans.
I sank back into the couch, tears spilling over as I pressed a trembling hand to my stomach. A thousand questions raced through my mind, each one more overwhelming than the last. How would I do this alone? Could I do this alone? What kind of life could I give this baby? And what about Ryder? The thought of him tightened my chest, a painful reminder of the chaos I’d left behind. I didn’t want to call him. I didn’t want to face the fury or the questions or the inevitable entanglement. But no matter how much I tried to avoid the truth, one fact remained: Ryder deserved to know. This was his child, too, and I couldn’t keep it from him forever.
The thought of calling him then had crossed my mind a dozen times, but fear kept my phone untouched. I wasn’t ready for that conversation, wasn’t ready for the way his voice might crack with emotion or the anger I knew would simmer just below the surface. So, I did nothing. Days turned into weeks, and the secret grew—both inside me and in the weight it placed on my heart.
The rhythmic hum of the highway gave way to a jarring honk from a passing truck, snapping me out of my thoughts. My chest tightened as the noise faded, leaving me alone with the weight of what lay ahead. I shook my head, trying to dispel the fog of memories, but they clung to me stubbornly, dragging me backward in time. The New York skyline, once a towering reminder of the life I’d built for myself, had long since faded in my rearview mirror. Now, the landscape was dotted with rolling hills and the occasional weathered farmhouse, each mile pulling me closer to a world I thought I’d left behind. The countryside was quieter, slower, but the unease in my chest didn’t ease—if anything, it grew louder, echoing with doubts I couldn’t silence.
For months, I’d convinced myself that staying away was the right choice. I’d built walls around my decision, reinforcing them with logic and fear. But the moment I felt that first kick—a delicate flutter that turned my world upside down—everything shifted. That tiny movement had shattered the lies I’d been telling myself, forcing me to confront a truth I’d tried to bury. This wasn’t just my life anymore. The baby deserved answers, a chance to know where they came from. And Ryder? He deserved to know, too, even if the thought of facing him made my stomach churn with fear and uncertainty.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder, the screen lighting up with a notification. I ignored it. There was no one I wanted to talk to right now. The only conversation that mattered was the one waiting for me in Hollow Ridge.
I replayed a dozen scenarios in my mind, each more nerve-wracking than the last. What would I say when I saw him? Would he be angry? Hurt? Would he even want to hear what I had to say? My grip on the wheel tightened as the doubts clawed at me.
I’d seen snippets of him on social media, pictures posted by mutual acquaintances, or glimpses in the background of someone else’s post. He looked the same but different. Harder, maybe. Like the weight of the world had settled a little heavier on his shoulders. I’d spent hours staring at those photos, wondering what he was thinking, what he was doing, if he ever thought about me.
And now I was hurtling back into his life with a bombshell he couldn’t ignore.
The first sign for Hollow Ridge appeared on the side of the road, the familiar name making my chest tighten. I hadn’t told anyone I was coming. Not Ryder. Not my friends. No one. It felt easier that way. Cleaner. The fewer opinions clouding my decision, the better. This had to come from me on my terms.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the road as I turned onto the familiar stretch of highway that would lead me back to the place I swore I’d never return to. Hollow Ridge wasn’t just a town. It was a memory, a life I’d tried to leave behind. But now, it was the only place that made sense to go.
I thought about the first time Ryder and I met, the way his eyes had pinned me in place as if he could see right through all the walls I’d built. He had a way of doing that, of making me feel seen and wanted and maddeningly alive. And that’s what made this so hard. Because as much as I loved him, I couldn’t shake the fear that he wouldn’t love the mess I was bringing back with me.
The baby kicked, a faint flutter against my ribs as if they knew my thoughts were spiraling. I pressed a hand to my stomach, a mix of awe and anxiety washing over me.
"It’s going to be okay," I whispered, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince—the baby or myself.
The Hollow Ridge city limits sign came into view, rusted at the edges but still standing. My hands trembled on the wheel as I passed it, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. This was it. No more running. No more hiding. I was going to tell Ryder the truth. And whatever happened after that, I’d deal with it. For the baby. For us.
As the town came into focus, familiar landmarks rising in the distance, my pulse quickened. The little diner where Ryder and I used to grab late-night coffee. The park where he’d taught me to ride his motorcycle. Every street held a memory, every corner a reminder of the life we’d shared. It felt surreal to be back, like stepping into a dream I wasn’t sure was mine anymore.
I turned down a quiet street, the tires crunching softly over the gravel. Ryder’s place was at the end of the road, tucked away behind a line of old oak trees. I could see the faint glow of the porch light from here, and for a moment, I just sat there, staring. The engine idled beneath me, its steady hum the only sound in the quiet evening.
This was it. No turning back now.
Taking a deep breath, I cut the engine and stepped out of the car, my boots crunching against the gravel as I glanced around the compound. The Crimson Reapers MC clubhouse loomed ahead, its windows glowing faintly in the evening light. Laughter and the distant thrum of music seeped out into the night, a stark reminder of the world I’d tried to leave behind. My hand instinctively went to my stomach, a small gesture of reassurance as I adjusted my jacket, steeling myself for what was ahead. Every step toward the entrance felt heavier than the last, the weight of my decision pressing down with every inch closer to their domain.
The compound buzzed with quiet activity. A few men lounged by their bikes, casting wary glances in my direction. Their conversations hushed as they took in my face, some recognition flickering in their expressions. I ignored them, focusing on the door ahead. This wasn’t the first time I’d walked into this world, but it felt different now—like I was carrying more than just myself through the threshold.
I paused just outside the door, my heart hammering in my chest as voices carried from inside. The clubhouse smelled the same as I remembered—a mix of oil, leather, and the faintest trace of smoke. Memories of Ryder flickered through my mind: the hard set of his jaw when he was angry, the rare, crooked smile that softened him, the way his presence could fill a room. And now, I was about to step into his world and detonate a bomb he wouldn’t see coming.
Taking one final breath, I pushed the heavy wooden door open instead of knocking, stepping inside before I could second-guess myself. The room stilled as heads turned toward me, conversations halting mid-sentence. My pulse thundered in my ears as I scanned the faces, searching for the one I both dreaded and needed to see. The seconds stretched into eternity before I spotted him seated at a table near the back.
When the heavy wooden door creaked open, the first thing that hit me was the smell—a potent mix of oil, leather, stale beer, and smoke. The main room looked exactly the same as I remembered, its dim lighting casting long shadows over the scuffed wooden floors and mismatched furniture. Crimson Reapers milled about everywhere, some seated at tables littered with empty bottles and ashtrays, others laughing loudly as they swapped stories. Half-naked women draped themselves over a few of the guys, their laughter high-pitched and exaggerated as they vied for attention.
My stomach churned, and I instinctively placed a protective hand over the small swell beneath my jacket. This was the world I’d left behind, the one I’d sworn my child would never know. But here I was, walking right back into it.
The chatter dulled as heads began to turn in my direction. Conversations halted, replaced by murmurs and side glances. Some faces registered recognition, others confusion. A few men exchanged knowing smirks, their gazes lingering a little too long before I shot them a warning glare. My boots echoed against the wooden floor as I stepped further inside, each step feeling heavier than the last.
And then there he was. Ryder.
He was seated at a table near the back, his broad shoulders hunched as he leaned over a bottle of whiskey. The dim light caught the sharp angles of his jaw and the rugged line of stubble framing his face. His gaze snapped up the moment I stepped into the room, and our eyes locked. The noise around us faded into nothing, the world narrowing to just him and me.
His expression was unreadable at first, but then it shifted—surprise, confusion, and something darker flickering across his face. For a moment, neither of us moved, and neither of us spoke. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy between us, thickening the air.
Finally, I took a shaky breath and broke the silence.
"Hi," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ryder didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at me like he was trying to decide if I was real or if some ghost from his past came to haunt him. His grip tightened around the bottle in his hand, his knuckles turning white.
"Delilah?" he said at last, his voice low and rough, carrying an edge that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Hi," I finally managed, my voice still quiet.