Chapter 9
Nadia
There’s a wing of the clubhouse with several bedrooms and a shared living area. The walls are painted in warm, lived-in colors. Pictures line the shelves. Quilts are folded with care. It doesn’t feel like a place built by outlaws, it feels like somewhere people care about each other.
Ava leads me to a small room with a twin bed, a dresser, and a tiny window overlooking the back lot. It’s simple, but safe. She hands me a stack of soft, worn-in clothes.
I’m already missing Saint, and I think it shows.
Ava catches it immediately. Her expression sobers. “It sticks, doesn’t it? The way they take care of you. The way they treat you like you matter.”
I nod, fingers brushing over the stitched pattern on the quilt. “It’s… overwhelming. I’m not used to it.”
“You deserve unconditional love, Nadia. No games. No proving yourself. Let Saint love you.” Her voice is quiet but strong. “And just know you’re safe here. Viper, Saint, Havoc, they’ll handle the threat. You just focus on you. Get some rest. We’ll talk more later.”
I lie down, and Ava tucks the blanket around me like she did when we were younger, sharing a room in a too-small house. Memories come rushing back. Whispered secrets under covers, the creak of floorboards outside our door, dreams we barely dared to say out loud.
We’re not those scared girls anymore. We made it out.
It’s not the life we imagined. But it’s ours.
As I drift off, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I flinch, pulse jumping—but it’s just a text.
Unknown number.
A photo of my stepfather sitting on a prison bench, smirking like the devil himself.
Under it: You can’t hide forever.
I lock the screen and shove the phone under the pillow. Maybe he’s right. Maybe the past always finds you. But maybe—just maybe—you find people who make the past matter less.
I think about Saint’s words. The way he said no one would hurt me while he was breathing. Maybe home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person who shows up on a dark road and refuses to leave you behind.
When I wake again, sunlight pours through the window. Morning. Means I overslept.
My stomach growls. Outside my room, I hear laughter and the sound of someone cooking—bacon, coffee, voices I don’t recognize.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and crack the door open.
Following the scent, I get to a small kitchen where the table is crowded with food. Ava waves me over with a big smile. Ghost stands near the counter, arms crossed like a statue, nodding once when our eyes meet.
Another man sits on a stool by the bar, a grease-stained rag draped over his shoulder. His beard is streaked with silver and his arms are thick with old tattoos. He tips his chin at me in greeting.
“You’re Saint’s girl,” he says, voice gravelly but kind. “I'm Diesel. I’ll get your car fixed up better than new.”
“Thank you,” I manage.
He shrugs. “That’s what I do. Cars. Bikes. Sometimes people.”
And then—Saint.
He’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, clean shirt clinging to his chest, hair still damp from a shower. But it’s his eyes that get me. The second I step into the room, they lock on mine like he’s been waiting. Like he felt me coming before he saw me.
I move without thinking, meeting him halfway.
“Morning,” he says softly.
“Morning. I can’t believe I slept so long.”
His hand lifts, fingers brushing a stray piece of hair behind my ear. It’s such a gentle gesture for a man like him. My stomach flips.
“You sleep okay?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“Good. We found out who gave your number to your stepfather.”
I freeze. “Who?”
“Your former roommate’s boyfriend. He works part-time at the county jail. Overheard something he shouldn’t have. Sold it. He’s been handled.”
I swallow. “You mean he’s—”
“No longer a risk,” he says, calm and final. “That’s all you need to know.”
This world Saint lives in is hard-edged. Absolute. It should scare me.
Maybe it does. But more than that, it makes me feel protected in a way I didn’t know I needed.
“What about my stepfather?”
“He’s still inside, but he just lost access to the outside world. Solitary by the end of the day. His assets? Frozen. No more strings to pull.”
Relief punches the air out of my lungs. I blink fast.
Saint touches my chin, tilting it up gently until I meet his eyes.
“Look at me,” he murmurs. “You’re not alone anymore. You’ve got a whole club behind you. And you’ve got me.”
The words crack something open.
“You care so much about me?” I whisper.
His smile is slow. Possessive. Steady. “I told you before. You’re mine, Nadia.”
I should be scared of that kind of claim. I’m not.
Because when he says mine, he doesn’t mean ownership. He means protection. Commitment. Shelter.
He makes me feel like I’m allowed to take up space. To be bold. To breathe easy.
He makes love to me like I’m fire and rain at once. Something wild, something holy, something worth burning for.
“I’m yours,” I say. “But I’m also mine. And if you try to put me in a cage, I’ll kick it down.”
His grin grows wide and feral. “There’s my girl.”
For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me right here in front of everyone. My pulse stutters.
But instead, he leans in and presses his forehead to mine.
“Eat,” he murmurs. “Then I’m taking you on a ride. You need to see how beautiful this town is.”
Heat slides down my spine.
“A ride in a beautiful small town with my favorite biker?” I tease. “Be still my heart.”
He chuckles low and squeezes my hip before grabbing a plate and handing it to me.
I pile it high with eggs and bacon, and as I turn, Ava slides in beside me.
“You good?” she asks under her breath.
I glance at Saint, talking to Havoc and Viper in the corner. The way he glances back every few seconds. Like he’s not quite comfortable unless he can see me.
I smile. “Yeah. I think I really am.”
Ava bumps her hip into mine, smile easy. “Good. I’m glad I get to see that face more often now.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “You sound awfully sure I’m staying.”
She shrugs, like it’s already decided. “Because you are. People don’t just walk away from something that finally feels like home.”
My throat tightens. I glance across the room at Saint, then back at her.
Yeah. She's damn right.