Chapter 16 #2
“Grey, Dad, Mom, Demon, Torch, Kyle. Emergency at the women’s shelter. Xavier’s been compromised. Riggs’s family. Full tactical, five minutes.”
I don’t wait for confirmation before dialing Vinny directly. “Vin, you back from Mexico?”
“Just rolled in last night,” he answers, voice instantly alert despite the early hour. “What’s happening?”
“Shelter’s been hit. Xavier’s there. Need you, Trey, and Liam at the north entrance. Sniper positions if you can get them.”
“On it. Fifteen minutes.”
“Make it ten,” I snap, already heading for the garage, keys jingling between my fingers.
My phone vibrates in my hand as I’m halfway out the door. I glance down, expecting Grey or one of the others confirming they’re en route. Instead, it’s Trenton’s name on my screen. Torch’s son. I hesitate for half a second before answering.
“Kind of in the middle of something, Trent,” I say, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continue toward my bike.
“Yeah, I figured.” His voice comes through, steady and focused. “Matthew and I just rolled back into town. Heard chatter at the gas station about some trouble brewing with Riggs’s people.”
Matthew, Jackson and Jean’s kid. Both of them Navy SEALs, both of them home at the exact right moment. The universe seems to be throwing me a bone for once.
“Where are you?” I demand, throwing my leg over my bike.
“Three minutes from your place,” Trenton answers. “Got our gear with us. Matt thought we might need it.”
Relief washes through me, cold and clarifying. These aren’t just club kids anymore, they’re trained operators with combat experience most of my brothers can only imagine.
“You got room for two more in this party?” Trenton asks, his tone deceptively casual. I can hear engines revving in the background.
“Hell yes,” I say without hesitation. “Women’s shelter, north side. Xavier’s being held there, likely with others. Unknown number of hostiles.”
“Copy that,” Matthew’s voice cuts in, deeper than Trenton’s. “We’ll come in quiet from the east. Give us your twenty when you’re in position.”
“Roger,” I respond automatically, falling into their military precision. “And, guys? They’re using a pregnant woman as leverage.”
“Understood,” Trenton says, all business now. “See you in five.”
The call ends and I kick my bike to life, the engine’s roar matching the fury building in my chest. If Riggs’s people have touched one hair on Xavier’s head, there won’t be enough left of them to bury.
I hit the main road at ninety, the wind tearing at my clothes, my mind cycling through tactical approaches.
The shelter has three entrances: the main door in the front, a service entrance in the back, and an emergency exit on the east side.
Security cameras cover all approaches, but if they’ve already neutralized the prospect on duty, they’ve likely cut the feeds.
Grey calls as I’m two minutes out. “In position south of the shelter. Butcher and Demon are with me. Your mother’s setting up triage at the clubhouse in case things go sideways.”
“Trenton and Matthew are joining,” I tell him, the words still feeling surreal. The boys coming home, stepping up when it matters most. “They’re coming in from the east.”
“The SEAL boys?” Grey’s surprise is evident even through the phone. “Thought they were still deployed.”
“Not anymore,” I say grimly. “And they brought toys.”
I slow as I approach the shelter, cutting my engine and coasting the last hundred yards to minimize the noise.
The building looks peaceful in the morning light with no signs of disturbance, and no indication of the danger lurking inside.
That concerns me more than if there were obvious signs of trouble. This was planned, calculated.
I text Trenton my position and receive an immediate response. In position. East side clear. Two tangos spotted through thermal, room 12. Three heat signatures inside. Two seated, one standing.
Three heat signatures. Xavier, Daphne, and someone else, likely Riggs’s father based on what Jason said yesterday. At least Xavier and Daphne are both alive.
My phone buzzes with another incoming call. Vinny this time. “In position,” he says without preamble. “I’ve got eyes on the room through the window. Older male, gun to the girl’s head. Xavier’s in the chair by the door. No visible injuries to either.”
Relief crashes through me so intensely I have to grip my bike’s handlebars to stay upright. Xavier’s okay. For now.
“What’s the play, boss?” Vinny asks, his voice steady. “I’ve got a clean shot if you want it.”
I consider our options. A sniper shot would be clean, though efficient, but risky with Daphne so close to the target. And if there are more of Riggs’s people nearby, the sound could trigger a firefight with Xavier and Daphne caught in the crossfire.
“Hold position,” I decide. “I’m going in through the front. Grey’s team will cover the back exit. When you hear the commotion, be ready to take the shot if needed, but only if you’re absolutely certain it won’t hit Daphne or Xavier.”
“Copy that,” Vinny confirms. “Be careful, Zach. These guys aren’t playing around.”
I tuck my phone away and check my weapon one last time. The weight of it is familiar, comforting in a way that should probably concern me more than it does. But right now, that gun and the brothers surrounding this building are the only things standing between Xavier and death.
I text Grey, Moving in. On my signal.
Then I approach the front door, not bothering with stealth now. If they’re expecting me to come alone, which they must be, based on Xavier’s forced invitation, then appearing to comply might buy us the advantage of surprise.
The front door isn’t locked, which confirms my suspicion that the security has been compromised. I step inside, scanning for threats. The prospect who was on duty is slumped against the wall, blood matting his hair, but his chest rises and falls steadily. Unconscious, not dead.
I move silently down the hallway, every sense hyperalert. Room twelve is at the end, door closed now. I can hear muffled voices inside, a man’s angry tone, then Xavier’s calmer response. My Xavier, steady even with a gun in the room.
I text the group, In position. Moving on room 12. Three, two, one…
Then I kick the door open with enough force to send it crashing against the wall, my gun already raised and aimed at the man holding Daphne hostage.
“Let her go,” I say, voice deadly calm. “Now.”
“Slaughter,” the man holding Daphne sneers, pressing the gun harder against her temple. “Right on schedule. And all alone, just like the doctor said.”
I keep my focus on the gunman, not daring to look at Xavier yet.
The man is older than I expected, mid-sixties, with Riggs’s same cold eyes and the weathered look of someone who’s lived a hard life.
His hand is steady on the weapon, the mark of experience that makes him more dangerous than his son ever was.
“I said, let her go,” I repeat, my voice like ice. “This is between us.”
He laughs, a harsh sound that makes Daphne flinch. “Put your gun down first. Kick it over here. Then we’ll talk about who lives and who dies today.”
My peripheral vision catches Xavier shifting slightly in his chair. Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second, just long enough for me to see he’s unharmed and for him to understand my silent message: be ready.
“Fine,” I say, slowly lowering my weapon. “Just don’t hurt them.”
I place my gun on the floor, making a show of straightening up with my hands raised. The old man’s eyes follow the movement, his attention momentarily split between watching me and controlling Daphne.
That split second is all we need.
The window behind him explodes inward as a flash-bang grenade crashes through, detonating with a blinding light and deafening bang. In the same instant, I dive for my gun, rolling to the side as chaos erupts.
Xavier lunges from his chair, tackling Daphne sideways off the bed just as Riggs’s father squeezes off a wild shot. I hear Xavier grunt, in pain or exertion, I can’t tell, but there’s no time to check as I bring my weapon up.
Two shots, center mass. The old man staggers backward, surprise etched on his face as crimson blooms across his chest. His gun clatters to the floor as he collapses against the bathroom door.
“Clear!” I shout, already moving toward Xavier and Daphne huddled on the floor beside the bed.
“We’re okay,” Xavier says, his voice steady despite the situation. He’s shielding Daphne with his body, one hand pressed against her abdomen in a protective gesture that makes my chest tighten. “We’re both okay.”
The room fills with movement as Grey and my father burst through the doorway, weapons drawn. Trenton appears at the shattered window, his military-grade tactical gear a stark reminder of how much has changed since he was just a club kid running around the compound.
“Building secure,” Matthew’s voice reports through the comms unit clipped to Trenton’s vest. “Two tangos down at the rear entrance. No other hostiles detected.”
Relief washes through me, so powerful it nearly brings me to my knees. Instead, I holster my weapon and reach for Xavier, pulling him into an embrace that’s probably too tight, too desperate, but I can’t help myself.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I murmur against his hair, breathing in his scent, antiseptic and that fancy shampoo he uses, now mingled with gunpowder and fear-induced sweat. “The blood pressure thing was genius. I knew something was wrong immediately.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, those intelligent eyes scanning my face. “I knew you’d understand. I just wasn’t sure if you’d have time to get help.”
“Always,” I promise, pressing my forehead against his. “Always for you.”
Daphne makes a small sound, drawing our attention back to her. She’s trembling violently now, delayed shock setting in as the adrenaline ebbs. Xavier immediately shifts into doctor mode, gentle hands checking her pulse, her pupils.
“Let’s get her to the clubhouse,” I suggest, already knowing my mother will have the medical room prepped and waiting. “It’s secure, and she needs to be checked properly.”
Xavier nods, helping Daphne to her feet with careful movements. “Your baby’s fine,” he reassures her, his voice taking on that calm, professional tone I’ve heard him use with patients. “But we need to monitor you both for a while. Stress isn’t good for either of you.”
My father approaches, his massive frame filling the doorway as he surveys the scene. His eyes linger on the body of Riggs’s father before shifting to me.
“It’s done,” he says simply. “Grey’s handling cleanup. And your mother’s expecting you at the clubhouse.”
I nod, understanding everything he’s not saying. The threat isn’t over. Riggs’s family extends beyond his father, and word of today’s events will spread. But for now, in this moment, we’re safe.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, the words inadequate for what he and the others have done today. “For coming so quickly.”
He clasps my shoulder once, his grip firm. “Family protects family. And the doctor’s family now.” His gaze shifts to Daphne, softening slightly. “Her too, I suppose.”
It’s as close to a blessing as we’re likely to get from him, acknowledgment that our circle has expanded to include not just Xavier but those under his care.
I feel a surge of pride that has nothing to do with violence or power and everything to do with the man watching over Daphne with such gentle concern.
As we make our way out of the shelter, Xavier keeps his arm around Daphne’s shoulders, speaking softly to her. I follow a step behind, hyperaware of our surroundings despite Grey’s assurance that the threat has been neutralized.
Outside, the morning sun has fully risen, casting long shadows across the parking lot where club members stand guard.
Trenton and Matthew are conferring with Grey, their postures relaxed but alert.
They’ve transitioned seamlessly from military to MC life, bringing skills that have just saved what’s most precious to me.
“Thank you,” I say as we approach, the words directed at both young men. “Good timing on coming home.”
Trenton grins, so much like his father it’s startling. “Figured you guys could use some professional help for once.”
Matthew nods, more serious than his friend. “Glad we could assist. Daphne going to be okay?”
“She will be,” Xavier answers, guiding her toward my father’s truck. “Physically, at least. The rest will take time.”
I watch as he helps her into the back seat, his movements gentle but efficient. This is the man I love, capable of tenderness even in the aftermath of violence, of healing what others have broken.
“We’ll follow you to the clubhouse,” I tell my father, already moving toward my bike. “Xavier rides with me.”
He nods, closing the truck door before turning to me. “This isn’t over, son. Riggs had cousins, uncles. Word will spread.”
“Let it,” I say, the cold certainty of what must come settling in my bones. “Let them all know what happens when they target what’s mine.”
His expression shifts, approval and concern mingling in equal measure. “We’ll be ready.”
Xavier joins me at the bike, exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders despite his attempts to hide it.
I hand him the spare helmet, watching as he secures it.
Another change, the doctor who once avoided anything remotely connected to biker life now moving through our world with growing confidence.
“Ready?” I ask, swinging my leg over the seat.
He climbs on behind me, arms wrapping securely around my waist. “Take me home,” he says simply, his chest pressing against my back as he leans close. “Wherever that is, as long as you’re there.”
I start the engine, the familiar rumble vibrating through us both. Home. Once, that meant the clubhouse, the garage, wherever the Devil Souls gathered. Now it means wherever Xavier is: the apartment above the garage, the clinic, even this bike with his arms around me.
As we pull away from the shelter, the convoy of Devil Souls surrounding us like a protective shield, I make a silent vow.
No matter what comes next, no matter who targets us, I will keep him safe. This doctor who heals with the same dedication I destroy, who loves despite knowing exactly what I’m capable of.
My doctor. My Xavier. My home.