Chapter 20
NOAH
I drove Hallie Mae to Dominion Hall, the truck’s engine growling low, cutting through the dusk like a scythe.
No more shadows, no more half-truths—she’d see the blood on my hands, and I’d bleed to keep her trust.
She sat beside me, hands knotted in her lap, eyes sharp, slicing through the fading light like she was ready for war.
I didn’t know how to lay it all bare—how deep the rot went, how my name was tangled in her pain—but I’d promised, and I’d rather die than break that vow.
Dominion Hall loomed ahead, dark and powerful, its steel gates parting as we rolled up. For once it felt like home.
I parked, killed the engine, and turned to her. “Ready?”
She nodded, jaw tight. “Let’s do it.”
I led her inside, past reinforced doors, the hum of surveillance cams tracking us like ghosts.
The air was heavy—cedar, gun oil, a faint bite of whiskey from nights when we planned our own wars.
Ryker and Atlas waited in the war room, a concrete bunker buried deep, monitors glowing, maps pinned like battle scars on the walls.
Ryker stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as Hallie Mae stepped in behind me.
Atlas sat, silent, his bulk steady, but his gaze flicked to her, weighing her presence.
“The fuck is she doing here?” Ryker snapped, voice low, like she wasn’t right there.
“She’s got every right,” I said, stepping forward, voice hard.
Ryker’s jaw clenched, glare cutting between us. “Authorities’ll know she’s here. You want feds crawling up our ass? We’re already skating thin ice.”
“She stays,” I said, no give. “They dragged her family into this. She gets a say.”
He leaned in, voice dropping. “You’re thinking with your cock, Noah. This risks everything—her included.”
I bristled, fists tightening, but Hallie Mae’s hand brushed my arm—light, grounding.
“She’s not wrong to want answers,” Atlas said, voice calm, heavy. “But Ryker’s right about heat.”
I nodded, grateful for the balance. “She’s part of this now.”
Ryker exhaled, sharp, but backed off. “Fine. But you better know what you’re doing. One fuckup, and it’s cops, feds, 77—the whole goddamn alphabet.”
“Noted,” I said, holding his stare until he looked away.
Atlas leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Her mom’s out there. Exposed. We should put eyes on her—maybe a team if it escalates.”
“Good call,” I said, glancing at Hallie Mae.
Her eyes softened, gratitude flickering. “Thank you,” she whispered, firm but low.
I turned back, mind racing. “We need to send a message—through intermediaries, straight to the CIA. Let them know 77’s playing dirty on American soil.”
Ryker’s brows shot up. “Poke the bear?”
“End this,” I said, voice hard. “CIA doesn’t want a turf war here—nobody does. If we show 77’s crossing lines, they’ll pull back or get burned.”
Atlas nodded, slow. “Could work. Forces their hand without us going loud.”
Ryker snorted, shaking his head. “Or it lights us up like a Christmas tree. You think the CIA’s gonna send flowers? This’ll make Dominion a fucking beacon.”
“We’re already at war,” I said, leaning in, voice sure. “Might as well dive deep.”
Hallie Mae stayed quiet, eyes flicking between us, trusting the room but not shrinking.
Her faith—fragile, fierce—pushed me to get this right.
Ryker scrubbed his face, muttering a curse. “Fine. I’ll make the call. But you better be ready for the spotlight.”
“Always am,” I said, smirking, though my gut twisted—he wasn’t wrong. This was a long way from a bullet shot a mile out.
Atlas stood, hand on my shoulder. “I’ll handle security for her mom. Team in place within the hour.”
Ryker nodded, pulling his phone. “I’m on the call. Let’s move.”
The meeting broke, tension lingering like gunpowder, but we had a plan—rough, risky, ours.
I turned to Hallie Mae, her face pale but steady. “C’mon. We’ve got some time. Let’s eat.”
She followed as I led her to the kitchen—steel and black granite, the chef prepping for the crew.
I leaned in, murmured, “Pack a picnic. Something good—sandwiches, fruit, fresh shit. To-go.”
He nodded, no questions, and got to work.
Hallie Mae’s eyes widened, surprise breaking through her grief, and I grinned—her lips parting, soft and unguarded, hit me like a shot of bourbon.
“Full of surprises,” she said, a faint smile tugging her mouth.
“Stick around,” I said, winking, chest aching with how much I meant it.
The chef handed over a cooler—ice-packed, loaded—and I grabbed it, nodding to the stairs.
“Not outside?” she asked, brow quirking as we climbed.
“Nah,” I said, voice low, heat creeping in. “Food’s on ice for a reason.”
Her cheeks flushed, catching my tone, and she followed to my room, the door clicking shut.
The space was dark—cedar, leather, my bed unmade, her scent still haunting the sheets from last time.
She set her bag down, turned, and asked, “Picnic?”
I dropped the cooler, stepped close, voice rough. “Later. I need more of you … now.”
Her breath hitched, eyes darkening, and she didn’t pull back—met me head-on, bold as hell, fire in her that matched mine.
I kissed her—deep, desperate, teeth grazing her lip, tongue diving in like I could drink her whole.
She moaned, hands yanking my shirt up, nails raking me, sharp enough to sting, and I growled, loving her edge, her claim.
I shoved her dress up, bunching it at her hips, and lifted her, pinning her to the wall, her legs locking around my waist, heat pressing against my cock.
“Noah,” she gasped, throat bared as I kissed down it, sucking hard to mark her, my dick throbbing, trapped in denim.
I carried her to the bed, dropped her onto the sheets, and tore her dress off—fabric ripping, no patience left.
No bra, just a wisp of lace panties I shredded with one tug, leaving her bare, glistening, her pussy pink and ready.
“Fuck, you’re everything,” I growled, dropping between her thighs, spreading her wide, her scent—sweet, musky—hitting me like a drug.
I licked her slow, tongue dragging through her folds, savoring her slickness, her hips bucking as I sucked her clit, teasing with soft flicks.
Her hands twisted my hair, pulling hard, and I groaned, plunging two fingers inside, curling them, pumping as I lapped her, her moans jagged, desperate.
“Noah—God—” she panted, thighs shaking, and I pushed her further, wanting her wild, untamed.
She surprised me—grabbed my shoulders, pulled me up, and shoved me onto my back, straddling my chest, bold as fuck.
Her eyes locked on mine, fierce, and she slid down, unbuttoning my jeans, freeing my cock—hard, thick, leaking—and took me in her mouth without a word.
“Fuck,” I groaned, head slamming back on the pillow, her lips wrapping tight, tongue swirling the tip, sucking deep, wet, messy.
She was relentless—bobbing slow, then fast, hollowing her cheeks, one hand stroking what she couldn’t take, the other cupping my balls, squeezing light, sending shocks up my spine.
I’d never seen her like this—commanding, fearless, her mouth a weapon, unraveling me with every slick pull.
“Hallie Mae,” I rasped, hips jerking, her throat relaxing, taking me deeper, gagging soft but not stopping, eyes watering but burning with want.
She popped off, grinning, wicked, and climbed up, straddling me, guiding my cock to her entrance, sinking down slow, her pussy tight, hot, swallowing me inch by inch.
I gripped her hips, thrust up, and she rode me—hard, wild, tits bouncing, hair spilling, her moans loud, unashamed, claiming every thrust like it was hers to take.
“More,” she gasped, leaning forward, nails digging into my chest, and I flipped her onto her knees, spreading her ass, sliding in deep from behind—brutal, my hand cracking against her cheek, her cry spiking my blood as she pushed back, begging.
“Like that?” I growled, spanking her again, her skin pink, her pussy clenching as I fucked her, fingers finding her clit, rubbing fast, wet, until she screamed, coming hard, pulsing around me.
But she wasn’t done—twisted around, pushed me flat, and climbed over my face, lowering her dripping pussy to my mouth, bold and shameless.
I groaned, tongue diving in, sucking her swollen clit, hands gripping her thighs as she rocked, grinding down, her moans high and broken, owning me with every roll of her hips.
“Noah—fuck—” she panted, fingers yanking my hair, and I ate her out, relentless, licking deep, sucking hard, until she shuddered, coming again, soaking my face, her taste flooding me.
She slid down, grinning, and grabbed my cock, stroking fast, then bent low, taking me back in her mouth—deeper, hungrier, her tongue tracing veins, lips tight, sucking like she wanted to ruin me.
I groaned, hips bucking, her boldness fucking me up—she wasn’t just taking me, she was rewriting me, claiming every inch like she’d been born to break me apart.
“On your back,” I growled, pulling her off, flipping her down, spreading her thighs wide, hooking one leg over my shoulder.
I slid in—slow, deep, a new angle that made her gasp, eyes rolling back as I fucked her steady, watching her writhe, her hands grabbing my ass, pulling me deeper.
She reached up, pinched my nipples—hard, sharp, a shock that made me hiss, her grin wicked as she twisted, pushing me closer to the edge.
“Fuck, you’re bold,” I groaned, loving it—her fire, her claim, the way she owned me, body and soul, no fear, no shame.
I leaned down, kissed her—hot, messy, tongues clashing—and thrust faster, deeper, her pussy gripping me, her moans vibrating against my lips.
She slid a hand between us, fingers massaging her clit, then lower, brushing my cock as I fucked her, slick and daring, her touch sending sparks up my spine.
“Noah—come with me,” she gasped, voice raw, and I did—lost it, spilled into her with a roar, vision blacking as she came, too, pulsing tight, her cry sharp and wild, nails raking my back.
We collapsed, tangled, sweat-soaked, her head on my chest, my arms tight around her, heart pounding like I’d fought a war and won.
She was everything—bold, fierce, claiming me with every touch, every moan, rewriting my world with her fire.
I loved it—her power, her hunger, the way she’d taken me, marked me, made me hers in ways I’d never imagined.
If war was coming—and it was, Department 77’s shadow closing in—I’d gorge on her now, every second, every taste, before the world tried to rip us apart.
I held her, her fingers tracing my skin, and knew she was my only thought—the only thing that mattered, her breath, her heat, her bold, beautiful claim.
War could wait.
For now, she was mine.
And I was hers.