Chapter Forty-Five
THE SUN HAD long done that slow, honey-colored slide across the horizon when I finally rolled back in, boots caked with road dust, mind heavier than the saddle I rode in on.
The bike hummed under me, constant and familiar, but my chest hadn’t loosened.
Every mile felt stretched tight, like the road itself was remindin’ me that peace was just a layover, never the destination.
The air had cooled some, enough that the sweat on my back chilled beneath my shirt, but the day clung stubborn, grease, asphalt, and the sour tang of adrenaline still hangin’ on me.
I cut the engine, the sudden silence almost jarrin’.
Out here, it was never quiet quiet. Cicadas screamed in the pines, frogs carried their song from the ditch, and the boards of Momma’s porch creaked low in the evenin’ heat.
Still, compared to the roar inside me, it might as well’ve been church.
I stood there for a moment too long, helmet danglin’ from my fingers, breath pushin’ slow through gritted teeth.
The house looked the same as it always had—weathered wood, white trim, a porch swing that never stopped swayin’ with the wind.
Home. And for the first time in a long time, I wondered if I even knew how to walk through that door without bringin’ hell with me.
When I finally stepped inside, the air shifted.
Cooler, calmer. The kind of stillness you only got when the world had surrendered to night.
Supper dishes stacked in the sink, faint smell of cornbread lingerin’, lights burnin’ low.
I eased the door shut behind me, lettin’ the latch click soft, like even that noise might wake the past.
Sable was already in bed.
She lay curled on her side, the thin blanket tangled around her legs, wearin’ one of my old T-shirts that draped loose over her shoulders.
The fabric had gone soft with too many washes, slippin’ just enough to show a strip of bare skin, pale in the lamplight.
My throat tightened. I’d seen her in that shirt before, but never like this. Just… her.
The room smelled like her too. Clean soap. Warm skin. That faint vanilla that clung to her no matter where she went. Sweet and strong, a brand that sank deep in a man’s chest and stayed there, burnin’ deep.
I let my back hit the door for a beat, eyes closed, shoulders saggin’ under the weight I hadn’t shaken since I’d swung a leg over the bike hours ago.
Every face I’d scanned, every street I’d tracked, every thought of how close danger might be, it all fell off me piece by piece, collectin’ at my boots.
“You okay?” she murmured, her voice soft, lids half-closed but her eyes fixed on me like she’d been waitin’.
I didn’t lie. “I am now.”
My boots thudded against the floor, dull and heavy, before I peeled out of the shirt stickin’ to my back.
The mattress dipped under my weight as I slid in behind her, arm circlin’ her waist, draggin’ her flush against me like I’d been starvin’ for the feel of her all damn day.
She didn’t resist. Just sighed deep and sank into me, her small hand comin’ to rest on mine.
“You smell like oil and asphalt,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against my chest.
“You smell like heaven,” I shot back without thinkin’, the words rough but true.
That tugged a laugh outta her. Not a pretty, practiced laugh, but the kind that cracked through ribs that still remembered bruises. The kind you fought for. She looked up at me, hand slidin’ up slow, tracing the cut of my jaw with fingertips soft but sure.
Her eyes locked on mine, sharp and uncertain, like she needed proof I was still here. Flesh and bone. Not just a dream that could dissolve the second she blinked.
I didn’t give her the chance to doubt.
I kissed her.
Slow at first, then deeper, need curlin’ low and fierce. Not lust, not the kind that burns fast and fades quicker. This was hunger. Ache. The kind that said I’m here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Not unless you make me.
She met me right there. Fingers slidin’ into my hair, legs tanglin’ around me like she meant to tie me down to this bed, to her, to somethin’ steady.
Heat flared searing through me, body catchin’ fire in a way that was dangerous in its own right. Every wall I built, every shield I carried, crumpled in her hands.
Then my phone buzzed.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again. Then twice more, insistent, like a fist poundin’ on the door of my life.
“Son of a bitch,” I growled, forehead pressin’ to hers, chest heavin’ with the fire she’d lit.
She sighed, fingers droppin’ from my shoulders. Not angry. Not defeated. Just that quiet understanding she wore like a shield. “It’s okay,” she whispered. We both knew it wasn’t.
I rolled and snatched the phone. Devil’s name lit the screen.
My jaw locked so tight it hurt.
“What’s up?” I answered, my voice cold, flat, already shoving the warmth down deep where it couldn’t get in the way.
“Gabrial’s been spotted,” Devil said. No lead-in. No wasted breath.
Every muscle in my body went stiff, heart slammin’ once, hard enough to echo in my ears.
“Jacob tailed him east side,” Devil continued. “Got pictures. Video. Bastard isn’t hiding.”
I shot to my feet, paces short and loud across the floor. The violence in me woke fast, stretchin’ like a wolf that’d been caged too long.
“Club’s mobilizing,” Devil said. “I want you at the bar in twenty. Jacob and Hunter are on their way there to watch Sable and the kids.”
“I’m on my way.”
The call ended, and just like that, the shift hit me. Lover to soldier. Warmth to steel.
I moved quick, efficient. Shirt. Boots. Gun. Every motion sharp, practiced. The ritual was too familiar, like prayer in reverse. Where others knelt at altars, I strapped steel to my hip. Where others whispered hymns, I chambered rounds.
Behind me, Sable sat up, the sheet slidin’ down her shoulder, eyes wide, watchin’ the transformation. “What happened?”
I bent, pressed a kiss to her temple. Tried to make my voice even, calm. “Security issue. Devil needs boots on the ground.”
Her gaze followed me as I moved, takin’ me in piece by piece like she was memorizing me. “Should I be worried?”
And God help me, I hesitated. Just a breath.
“No,” I said finally. “You’re safe here. Momma’s got you. The kids too. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t trust that. Devil’s sendin’ men to watch for peace of mind.”
She nodded slow, but worry clung stubborn behind her lashes.
I kissed her again. Hard. Rough. The kind of kiss that says if this is the last one, it won’t fade easy.
“Lock the door behind me.”
Then I was gone.
Down the hall, boots hittin’ wood that creaked like it had somethin’ to say. I didn’t check the kids. Didn’t stop to breathe. My shadow stretched long across the walls, flickerin’ with each lamp I passed like the house itself was remindin’ me what I stood to lose.
The night air hit sharp when I stepped outside, cool against skin still burnin’ from her touch. Crickets sang, a whip-poor-will called somewhere in the pines, and for a split second, it almost felt like peace again.
But then his name came back to me.
Gabrial.
Even thinkin’ it was gasoline in my blood. My pulse kicked like a lit fuse, every nerve already geared for the fight.
If he was here, it wasn’t by accident.
This was calculated. Deliberate.
It was a message.
And I sure as hell planned on answerin’—loud enough the whole fuckin’ world would hear.