Chapter 8
Sin
Night comes slow in the mountains.
It settles into the trees like a hand over a mouth, muffling the world until all you hear is the cabin breathing. Wood shifting. Wind scraping branches. The quiet creak of the house settling into itself.
Ruby is asleep beside me, curled on her side like she’s trying to fold herself into safety.
I still can’t believe she’s here.
In my bed.
In my cabin.
After she gave her first time to me.
My comm unit vibrates against the nightstand.
Once.
Short.
The kind of signal that means movement.
I keep my body still as I reach for it, careful not to wake her.
I slip out of bed, silent. Bare feet on wood. I step into the hallway and pull the bedroom door nearly closed, leaving it cracked just enough that I can still hear her breathing.
Then I answer.
Havoc’s voice comes through low and steady. Quiet authority. The kind that makes men listen.
“They’re here,” he says. “Two vehicles. Coming up your track.”
My pulse settles instead of jumping.
“How far?”
“Three minutes. Maybe less.”
I glance toward the living room window, toward the slice of darkness outside. Trees. Shadows. Nothing visible yet.
My hand tightens around the comm. “You’ve got eyes?”
“Viper’s on the road. Blade’s got overwatch. Mercenary’s on the near side. Ghost is moving into position.”
Names that mean something.
A perimeter.
A closed fist.
My stomach still drops anyway, because Ruby is in my bed and danger is on my land.
“You knew they’d come,” I say.
A beat of silence.
Then Havoc answers, calm as steel. “We knew they’d follow whatever they thought had value. So we let the rumor reach the right ears and made sure it led them here.”
My jaw tightens. “My cabin.”
“Your cabin is a choke point,” he says. “One road in. Trees too thick to move fast. No clean line out once Viper closes the rear. They walked into the best ground we had.”
No apology.
No hesitation.
Because there doesn’t need to be.
This is Havoc. He doesn’t gamble with innocent people. He builds outcomes.
“She’s asleep,” I say, voice low.
“Then wake her,” he says. “Move her to cover.”
My eyes cut back toward the cracked bedroom door.
“Copy.”
His voice drops a fraction, enough to tell me he hears what I’m not saying.
“She was never the bait, Sin.”
I say nothing.
Because I know that.
The Saints do not risk women under their protection. Not for strategy. Not for leverage. Not for anything.
Havoc continues. “They were hunting. We picked the ground. When this is over, he doesn’t get to own her fear.”
My teeth grind.
Ruby.
Havoc’s tone doesn’t change. “You’re not alone out there. They are.”
The anger in my chest cools into something harder. Cleaner.
Luke and his men aren’t walking toward an open cabin. They’re walking into a Saints’ net.
“Show restraint,” Havoc says. “Luke’s worth more breathing than dead. We need names, routes, and the next link. We need Salazar.”
“Understood.”
I cut the call and move fast.
Back into the bedroom.
Ruby is still asleep, face soft in the dark, one hand tucked under her cheek. The sight of her calm makes my chest twist. Like I’m about to be the one who steals it.
I sit on the edge of the bed and touch her shoulder gently.
“Ruby.”
Her eyes snap open instantly.
Fear is immediate. Sharp. She jerks upright like she expects hands on her, like she expects the room to turn into the stage again.
“Hey,” I say, low and steady. “It’s me.”
Her breathing is too fast. Her eyes are too wide.
“Sin,” she whispers, voice shaking.
“I need you to listen,” I say. “We have movement.”
Her face drains of color.
“Luke,” she breathes.
I don’t confirm it. I don’t deny it.
I keep my voice even.
“My brothers are outside,” I tell her. “We’re already set.”
That lands differently. Her eyes search mine.
“You knew?” she whispers.
“We knew they’d try something,” I say. “And we were ready before they got near the track.”
Her breath catches. Not calmer yet, but steadier.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “I can’t do this again.”
“You won’t,” I say. “Get up.”
I move to the closet and pull it open. Behind the hanging jackets is a narrow space I built years ago, back when sleep only came if I knew there was somewhere safe to disappear.
A crawlspace behind a false panel. Reinforced.
Sealed. Vented through the wall so whoever’s inside can breathe. Enough room to hide a person.
Ruby stares at it like it’s a grave.
“Ruby,” I say, and my tone hardens because panic gets people killed. “In. Now.”
Her lips tremble.
“I’ll be right here,” I add, softer. “And they won’t get near you.”
That lands.
She moves.
Bare feet on wood. Breathing ragged. Eyes still too wide.
I guide her gently. Her eyes lock on mine, terrified.
“Look at me,” I say.
She does.
“If you hear shouting, you stay quiet,” I tell her. “If you hear shots, you stay quiet. If you hear my voice, you answer only if I use your name.”
Ruby swallows hard. “Okay.”
I squeeze her hand once, then let go. I slide the panel closed and hang the jackets back into place, hiding the seam.
I grab my gun from the nightstand and move to the living room.
The cabin is quiet. Too quiet.
My pulse is steady. My hands are steady. The adrenaline hits clean, familiar.
War taught me how to move through this.
Love makes it harder, because now I have something to lose.
Headlights cut through the trees outside, sweeping across the cabin walls.
Two vehicles.
One truck.
One SUV.
They stop at the edge of the clearing like they own the place.
My jaw clenches.
I hear doors open. Boots on gravel. Voices low and sharp.
A flashlight beam sweeps the porch.
Then a knock hits my front door.
Hard.
Again.
Harder.
A voice carries through the wood.
“Ruby,” a man calls. “Open up. I know you’re inside.”
Luke, or one of his men.
Rage flashes hot.
He says her name like he owns it. He doesn’t. He never did.
I take one breath and answer with silence.
A shoulder hits the door.
The frame shudders.
I move to the side, putting myself out of direct line. I keep my gun trained, finger steady, breathing controlled.
Another hit.
The door groans.
A third hit.
The door swings inward.
Luke steps in first, gun in his hand, face twisted with a grin that doesn’t belong on a human being. Two men follow him, both armed, both dressed in black like they’re trying to look professional.
They aren’t.
They’re just predators in better clothes.
Luke’s eyes sweep the room.
“Where is she?” he snaps.
One of his men moves toward the hallway.
I wait until he’s two steps in.
Then I fire.
The shot hits the wall beside him, close enough that plaster bursts into dust and he jumps back with a curse.
It isn’t a kill shot. It’s a warning.
It stops them. It makes them hesitate. That hesitation is mine.
Luke whips toward the sound.
His eyes widen when he sees me in the shadow of the kitchen doorway.
“You think you can take what belongs to us?” He spits.
My body goes cold.
Belongs.
That word.
I raise the gun a fraction. “Leave.”
Luke laughs, sharp and ugly. “You’re alone.”
A voice outside answers, calm and deadly.
“He isn’t.”
The window by the living room flashes with a muzzle flare, one clean shot, and the nearest attacker outside drops with a scream, clutching his leg.
Blade.
Overwatch.
Luke’s men freeze.
They didn’t expect resistance.
They didn’t expect angles.
They didn’t expect the mountains to already belong to somebody else.
Luke’s face twists, anger flashing to something thinner.
“What the hell?” he barks into his radio.
A new voice answers from outside, quiet enough that it slides through the open door like smoke.
“Drop the weapons,” Havoc says. “This is over.”
Luke jerks his gun higher, swinging it toward the sound.
Bad move.
Ghost appears in the doorway like he stepped out of the dark itself, moving fast, silent, lethal. He hits Luke’s wrist with a sharp strike and the gun clatters to the floor.
Luke snarls and swings.
Ghost ducks it, then slams Luke into the wall hard enough to shake the whole cabin.
Luke wheezes, stunned.
The two other men inside try to lift their weapons.
Mercenary is already there too, cutting in from the side, gun up, voice hard.
“Down.”
One of them hesitates.
Mercenary moves, quick and brutal, and the man is on the floor with his arm twisted behind his back, face pressed into the rug, gun kicked away.
The other man backs up, eyes wild, trying to find an exit.
Viper steps into the doorway behind Ghost, blocking it like a wall.
Road captain. Route keeper. Trap closer.
Luke’s gaze darts around, realizing the truth too late.
This wasn’t a rescue mission for stolen property.
This was a Saints’ net.
He spits blood on my floor and glares at me. “You set this up.”
I take one step forward.
My gun stays trained.
“This is my cabin,” I say, voice low. “You brought this here.”
Luke laughs, breathless and ugly. “Salazar’s going to burn you all.”
Havoc steps into the doorway at last, calm as a blade being drawn.
“Salazar’s next,” he says.
Luke’s eyes flick to him like he’s seeing something bigger than a biker club for the first time.
Something organized.
Something military.
Something he should have been smart enough to fear.
Ghost tightens his hold, forcing Luke’s hands behind his back.
Luke bucks. Tries to fight.
Ghost doesn’t even blink.
He slams Luke’s face into the wall again, controlled enough not to kill him, brutal enough to end the discussion.
Luke goes still.
Breathing hard.
Hating all of us.
Mercenary drags the second man up by his collar and shoves him toward the porch. “Outside. Knees.”
The man stumbles out, coughing.
Viper follows him, gun still up, eyes cold.
Outside, more movement. More shouts. The sound of bodies hitting the ground.
Havoc’s gaze sweeps the cabin fast, checking corners like he’s counting breathing threats and spent rounds.
Then his eyes land on me.
“She okay?” he asks, voice low.
“She’s hidden,” I answer.
His gaze holds mine for a beat.
He nods once.
Approval.
Trust.
“Good.”
Ghost drags Luke toward the porch.
Luke twists, trying to get his mouth close to my ear as he passes.
“She’s still ours,” he hisses.
My blood goes hot.
I step in close enough that only he can hear me.
“No,” I say quietly. “She never was. And nobody touches what’s under Saints’ protection.”
Ghost shoves him forward.
Luke stumbles into the night.
Ruby.
My chest tightens.
“I need her out of that closet,” I say.
Havoc nods once. “Do it.”
I move fast.
Back to the bedroom. Closet. False panel.
I slide it open.
Ruby is crouched inside, arms wrapped around herself, eyes shining in the dark.
She flinches when she sees me, then her gaze locks on my face like she’s searching for the truth there.
“Sin,” she whispers.
“I’m here,” I say.
Her breath breaks. “Are they gone?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “You’re safe.”
She crawls out slowly, shaking hard enough that her teeth click.
I don’t think.
I pull her into my arms.
She clings to me like she’s falling.
Her face presses to my chest. Her breath is too fast. Her hands twist into my shirt.
I hold her, tight but careful, like if I squeeze too hard I’ll break her.
“It’s okay,” I murmur into her hair. “It’s done.”
She shakes her head against me. “He found me.”
“He found the cabin,” I correct. “Not you.”
Her voice comes out muffled. “I heard guns.”
“My brothers,” I say. “They were outside. They were ready before he touched the door.”
Ruby’s shoulders shudder. “They knew.”
Not a question.
A realization.
I go still.
Havoc appears in the doorway of my bedroom, taking in the scene in one glance. He doesn’t step closer. He doesn’t crowd her.
He stays where he is, hands visible, voice low.
“We knew they’d come,” he says. “So we made sure they came to an ambush.”
Ruby’s gaze flicks to him, wary but listening.
Havoc doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t soften into something fake. He stays exactly what he is.
Solid.
“I’m Havoc,” he says. “President of the Damned Saints.”
Ruby swallows. “I’m glad you caught them,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”
Havoc inclines his head once.
“You are under our protection,” he says. “That means something. You don’t get sold. You don’t get traded. You don’t get touched.”
Ruby’s breath catches.
There’s no suspicion in her face now.
Only shock.
And something else.
Understanding.
Havoc glances at me, and something passes between us. Silent. Familiar. The old language of men who have survived too much together.
Then he looks back at Ruby, and steps back out of the room, leaving us space.
Ruby’s eyes flick back to me.
I lower my head until my forehead brushes hers.
“It’s over. You hear me?” I murmur.
She nods, small and shaky.
Outside, boots crunch gravel. Low voices. Zip ties. Men learning too late what it means to be caught by Saints.
I pull her closer.
My voice drops, rough with truth.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Ruby blinks up at me. “For what?”
“For this getting close to you,” I answer.
Her throat tightens. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No,” I agree. “But it still came near you.”
My chest aches.
“I’m glad they were here. Because now maybe I can move on. Slowly.”
I close my eyes for a second.
“Yeah,” I say.
Because that’s the truth of it.
The Saints came.
The trap closed.
And the woman in my arms is still breathing.
Ruby tilts her face up to mine, eyes still wet, still shaken, but clear.
“I want to have you forever.”
The words hit deep.
Forever is a dangerous word in my world.
Men like me don’t trust it easy.
But tonight, with Luke zip-tied in the dirt and Havoc already planning the next move, forever doesn’t feel like a fantasy.
It feels like something defended.
Something earned.
I press my forehead to hers and hold her tighter.
“You have me,” I say.