Chapter Nine
THE RIDE BACK from the Fire Dragons’ clubhouse left me with nothing but dust in my teeth and frustration burning in my gut. The engines had roared through the night, but not even the thunder of pipes could drown out the sour taste of wasted time.
Vandal hadn’t known a damn thing, or at least that’s what he wanted us to believe.
Sat back with his arms crossed, mouth curved in that half-smirk that always made me want to break something.
Claimed Venom never breathed a word about any side project, never mentioned keeping a girl hidden away.
Maybe he was lying, maybe not, but the gleam in his eyes when he shrugged told me he enjoyed every second of sending us home empty-handed.
By the time we rolled into Crater Ridge, the night was heavy, the sky stretched wide and dark, stars shining overhead.
Gravel crunched under my boots when I parked my bike, the quiet afterward almost deafening compared to the ride.
My body ached with exhaustion, but the kind of restless, knotted exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix.
I stripped off my cut, tossed it across the chair, and dropped onto the mattress.
Sleep never came.
My head kept turning back to her.
Wren.
Vandal’s silence didn’t sit right. Men like Venom didn’t keep secrets that big without at least one brother knowing.
That’s how clubs worked, blood and loyalty meant nothing stayed buried forever.
If Vandal was telling the truth, then Venom had been playing a game of his own, one dangerous enough to risk everything to keep hidden.
And if he was lying? Then someone else out there knew. Someone who could still come for her.
The thought made my skin crawl.
I stared at the ceiling, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached, listening to the low tick of the clock on the wall. The minutes dragged. The longer I lay there, the louder the silence seemed to grow, until it wasn’t silence anymore.
A sound carried through the wall. Faint, but loud enough to cut through my haze. A thump, like something hitting wood.
Her room.
Elara had put her next to me, said it’d be easier for me to keep an eye out, make sure Wren wasn’t alone. I’d agreed because it was smart, because someone needed to watch over her. But the truth was, I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the day we pulled her from Venom’s hell.
The urge to check on her gnawed at me. To make sure she was breathing easy, safe. My feet hit the floor before the thought was finished, carrying me next door like instinct.
I stopped at her door, hand hovering over the knob. I shouldn’t go in. She needed space. Boundaries. Trust wasn’t something you forced, it was something you earned. I told myself that. Repeated it like a prayer.
But then I heard it.
A scream.
High, raw, broken. Shattering the quiet, making my blood turn cold.
My heart stuttered in my chest.
I yanked the key Elara had handed me out of pocket, shoved it into the lock, and opened the door.
The bed was empty.
Another scream ripped from the closet.
I crossed the room in two strides, every muscle tight, and tore the door wide.
She was crumpled in the corner, knees drawn up, blanket twisted around her legs like chains.
Sweat slicked her hair to her forehead, her chest heaving as her hands clawed at herself, at something I couldn’t see.
Her lips were stretched wide, raw cries pouring out until the sound scraped like glass against my ears.
“Blood… blood everywhere.”
My knees hit the floor. “Wren.” My voice came out rough, urgent, more plea than command. “It’s me. Ashen. You’re safe.”
But she didn’t hear me. Didn’t see me. Her eyes stayed shut, lashes trembling, her body shaking with terror that belonged to another place, another time.
Her scream cracked, breaking into jagged sobs, but she couldn’t stop. Her throat was wrecked, yet the sound kept tearing out of her, filling the small space with pure panic.
I reached out, slow, and laid my palm against her shoulder. She jolted like I’d struck her, but I didn’t pull away.
“You’re not there,” I said, soft, grounding. My voice caught, but I forced it calm. “You’re here. With me. He can’t touch you.”
Her lips moved, a ragged sound spilling free—words, her voice, broken but real. My chest clenched.
She had a voice. She’d always had one. She just chose not to use it. What torture she must have endured at Venom’s hands to have such fear.
The truth of it hit me like a blow.
I eased her toward me, careful, firm, holding her even when her nails scraped against my arm, even when she fought like she didn’t know who I was. “Easy, Wren,” I whispered against her hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Her cries faltered, softer now, but her eyes stayed shut, tears leaking hot down her cheeks. She sagged against me, still trembling, her body trapped in a war her mind couldn’t leave behind.
And as I held her, fury burned white-hot through my veins, not at her, never at her, but at the ghost of the bastard who had carved this terror into her bones.
Venom might be rotting in the ground, but his shadow lingered. It clawed at her even now, choking her in the dark.
I swore then—silently, fiercely, with her trembling in my arms—that his shadow wouldn’t win. Not while I was still alive.
Her sobs came softer, but her body still shook with each ragged breath. She was like a bird caught in a storm, wings beating frantically even when there was nowhere left to fly.
I adjusted, pulling her into my chest, letting her weight rest against me. Her skin was clammy, her hair damp against my chin. I kept my voice soft, murmuring words that didn’t matter so much for meaning as they did for rhythm.
“You’re safe. You’re not there. Not anymore. You’re here, Wren. With me.”
At first, she fought me, legs kicking, hands clawing as though she could dig her way out of the nightmare with her bare nails. I held steady. Didn’t pin her down, didn’t cage her. Just anchored her. Let her feel something solid, something unshakable.
Her breath hitched, breaking on another sob. Then her fists loosened, catching the fabric of my shirt instead of tearing it away. I felt the tremor in her fingers, the desperate clutch.
“That’s it,” I whispered, letting the relief bleed into my tone. “Hold on. I’ve got you.”
I rocked us gently, instinct more than thought. Back and forth, slow, like I used to do for Stephie when she found me after one of her old man’s rages. The memory cut raw, but I shoved it down. This wasn’t about me.
Minutes passed, or maybe longer. Her cries thinned, broke apart into shallow gasps, then hiccuped breaths. Sweat cooled against her skin, leaving her shivering in my arms.
I snagged the blanket tangled at her feet, pulling it around her shoulders without letting go. Her head dropped against me, still tucked tight, her lashes wet and cheeks blotched.
Her lips moved, the barest whisper brushing the air. I couldn’t catch the words, but the sound… Christ. That sound nearly undid me.
“You don’t have to talk,” I said softly, my throat tight. “Not until you’re ready. But you can. I heard you. You’re not broken, Wren.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was heavy, thick with the weight of what she’d carried alone for too long. Her breathing steadied against me, slower now, less jagged.
I shifted, easing us out of the cramped closet.
Carried her the short distance to the bed, moving careful, like she was glass that might shatter if I set her down too fast. She clung tighter when I tried to lower her onto the mattress, so I gave up the idea of leaving.
Sat down with her in my lap instead, leaning back against the headboard.
Her body curled into mine as if she’d been shaped to fit there all along.
And I held her.
The minutes stretched, the night deepened. My arms ached, but I didn’t let go. Didn’t want to.
I listened to every breath, every faint shift, my chest rising and falling in rhythm with hers. Each tremor that faded felt like a small victory, though I knew the war inside her was far from over.
My gaze fixed on the ceiling, but all I could see was Venom’s face, the smirk, the madness in his eyes. The cruelty he’d left carved into her soul. Fury surged hot, violent, demanding an outlet. My hand flexed against her back, wishing I could drag him from his grave just to kill him again.
But I forced myself to breathe, to calm. Because right now she didn’t need my rage. She needed my comfort. My presence. My vow.
“I’ve got you, Wren,” I whispered. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. I swear it.”
Her body gave the faintest shudder, then finally—finally—relaxed, her grip on my shirt easing as sleep pulled her under.
I stayed awake, holding her through it.
The night ticked by slow, but I didn’t close my eyes. Couldn’t. I’d keep watch as long as it took, because if those shadows came creeping again, they’d find me waiting.
And I meant every word I’d promised in the dark.
Venom’s shadow wouldn’t win. Not while I fucking breathed.