30. Zane
30
ZANE
I arrive early for school pickup, parking my bike where I can watch both the playground and the street. Three cars have caught my attention—expensive sedans with tinted windows. Not Death’s Head’s usual style.
The men inside wear suits, not leather. They’re too still and watchful, like sharks circling prey.
My phone buzzes. Draven: “Four more on the west side. Professional surveillance.”
Before I can respond, the school doors burst open. Kids pour out, Violet’s voice carrying over the chaos.
“Uncle Zane!” She spots me, breaking away from her friends. “Did you bring your cool bike?”
“Always do, princess.” I scoop her up, using the movement to scan the sedans. One driver speaks into a phone, eyes locked on us.
Daisy approaches more cautiously, her sharp gaze taking in everything. Sometimes, I forget she’s only six—she notices too much.
“Different way home today?” she asks quietly.
“Thought we’d try a new route.” I keep my voice light. “Make an adventure of it.”
“Adventure!” Violet claps. “Can we get ice cream?”
“Maybe.” I help them with helmets, positioning myself between them and the watching cars. “The first one to spot a purple car wins.”
It’s an old game, one that keeps them scanning our surroundings while thinking it’s fun. Daisy catches on immediately, her eyes tracking movement while pretending to search for colored vehicles.
“There’s Uncle Draven!” Violet points to his bike, which appears at the corner, right in time to pick up his son.
“Ice cream break,” I announce, guiding them toward Draven and Owen. “Who wants sprinkles?”
The ice cream shop gives us clear sight lines of the street.
“Purple car!” Violet shouts, pointing randomly. “I win!”
“Good eyes, sweetheart.” Rose appears beside us, her casual tone belying the gun I know she’s carrying. “Mind if I join your adventure?”
“Aunt Rose!” both girls quip, hugging her.
The suits are still out there, but they’re keeping their distance now. They’ve spotted our backup.
“More sprinkles?” I offer, buying time for Clay’s crew to get in position.
Draven joins us with Owen. His military bearing softens around the girls. “Think I saw a red car that needs counting.”
“That’s not the game,” Violet corrects seriously. “We’re finding purple ones.”
“Let’s find red ones too!” Owen bounces.
Draven and Rose catch each other’s eyes, and sparks start flying as they always do whenever they’re in the same place.
It would be amusing if not for the sharks circling outside. One sedan moves closer, its driver speaking rapidly into a phone.
“Time to go,” Rose says quietly. “Clay’s got eyes on the west route.”
I get the girls settled on my bike, making a game of different paths home while Draven takes his son on his. They think we’re exploring new streets for fun. They don’t need to know about the MC members flanking us.
“Uncle Zane?” Daisy’s voice carries over the engine. “Are the bad men back?”
My heart stops. “What bad men, sweetheart?”
“The ones Mama used to watch for. Before we came here.”
Fuck.
“No bad men,” I lie smoothly. “Just trying new roads. It’s an adventure, remember?”
But her words echo in my head. The ones Mama used to watch for. Before we came here.
What the hell is Evie running from?
We take the long way home, losing our shadows in careful stages. Rose follows in her car.
“Can we do more adventures?” Violet asks when we finally stop. “That was fun!”
“Course we can.” I help with their helmets, noting how Daisy stays quiet. “Any day you want.”
Rose approaches as the girls head inside. “We need to talk.”
“Those weren’t Death’s Head.”
“No.” Her expression hardens. “Much worse. Get them inside, and lock up. I’ll handle Evie.”
But when we enter the house, Evie’s already there. One look at our faces, and she knows.
“Girls,” she says calmly. “Homework time. I need to speak with your uncles.”
They go, but Daisy pauses. “Mama? Was it the bad men?”
Something breaks in Evie’s expression before she covers it. “No, baby. Everything’s fine. Go help your sister.”
After they’re upstairs, she turns to Rose. “How many?”
“Seven cars. Professional surveillance. They’re?—”
“Don’t.” Evie’s voice cracks. “Not here. Not now.”
“Evie.” I reach for her, but she steps back.
“The girls need dinner. Homework help. Normal things.” Her hands shake slightly. “We’ll talk later.”
Rose looks ready to argue, but Draven touches her arm—he came here after dropping Owen off at his nanny’s place.
“Fine.” Rose heads for the door. “But this isn’t over.”
After she leaves, Evie passes on a smile and calls the girls down. Acts like everything’s fine while helping with math problems and making dinner.
But I notice things now, such as how she positions herself to watch windows. How she flinches at car sounds. How her hand keeps touching that newly bandaged snake tattoo.
“Uncle Zane?” Violet tugs my sleeve. “Will you read stories tonight?”
“Of course, princess.” I pull her close. “Any story you want.”
Across the room, Evie’s eyes meet mine. In them, I see fear, gratitude, and something else. Something that looks like goodbye.
Not happening. Whatever she’s running from, wherever she came from, she’s ours now. All of them are.
And I protect what’s mine. Even if I don’t know what I’m protecting them from.
Yet.
After the girls are finally asleep, I find Evie in the kitchen, gripping her phone like a lifeline. Rose’s tense and angry voice carries through the speaker.
“They’re getting closer,” Rose says. “You can’t keep pretending?—”
“I’m not pretending.” Evie’s voice shakes. “I’m protecting them.”
“By lying? To everyone? The brothers deserve?—”
“Don’t.” Evie notices me then, quickly ending the call. “The girls go down okay?”
“Three bedtime stories and two glasses of water.” I move closer, watching her try to compose herself. “Want to tell me what that was about?”
“Just Rose being overprotective.” She busies herself with dishes, avoiding my eyes. “You know how she gets.”
“Do I?” I lean against the counter. “Because lately, I’m not sure I know anything about either of you.”
Her hands still in the soapy water. “Zane…”
“Those men weren’t Death’s Head.” I keep my voice gentle. “Were they?”
“No.” The word comes out barely audible.
“And they’re not just random fans from the video.”
She turns. “Please don’t ask. I can’t?—”
I catch her hands, pulling her close. “Talk to me. Let me help.”
Instead of answering, she kisses me. It’s desperate, hungry—a clear attempt at distraction. When she slides her hands under my shirt, I almost let her succeed.
“Evie.” I catch her wrists gently. “This won’t make the questions go away.”
“No.” She presses closer. “But it might make me forget them for a while.”
“Don’t,” I whisper against her mouth.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t kiss me like you’re leaving.”
She stiffens slightly before forcing relaxation. “I’m right here.”
But her kisses stay desperate, her touches urgent. When I lift her onto the counter, she wraps her legs around me immediately.
I should push for answers. Should demand truth instead of letting her distract me with pleasure. But when she guides my hand between her thighs, I’m lost.
She’s already wet. My fingers slide easily inside while my thumb circles her clit. Her head falls back, exposing her throat.
“Please,” she begs. “Make me forget. Just for a little while.”
So I do. I use my fingers and mouth to drive coherent thoughts from her mind. When she comes, it’s with tears on her cheeks.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, holding her through aftershocks. “Whatever’s coming, I’ve got you.”
She clings tighter, face pressed to my neck. “You can’t promise that.”
“Watch me.”
This time, when she kisses me, it’s slower. Still desperate, but with something else mixed in.
I carry her upstairs, careful not to wake the girls. In her bedroom, she undresses me with shaking hands.
“I love you,” she whispers, pushing me onto the bed. “No matter what happens, remember that.”
Warning bells ring in my head, but then she’s straddling me, taking me inside her perfect heat. All thoughts fade except how right she feels.
We move together, finding that familiar rhythm. Her hands grip my shoulders like anchors while I guide her hips. When she comes again, I follow immediately.
She lies next to me later on. In the quiet, car doors slam outside. Black Wolves are changing shifts. Evie tenses until she hears familiar motorcycle engines.
She relaxes slightly but doesn’t sleep. I feel her mind working on planning. Her fingers trace patterns on my chest like she’s memorizing them.
I pull her closer. “Whatever you’re running from?—”
“Don’t.” She presses her fingers to my lips. “Please. Just hold me.”
Dawn finds her actually sleeping, finally exhausted. In the early light, I study her face. Memorize every detail in case my instincts are right.
In case she runs.