Chloe
The cabin looked nothing like she expected. After another hour of winding through narrow mountain roads, Doc turned onto what barely qualified as a driveway. Thick trees swallowed the old pickup truck almost immediately, hiding it from the road.
The cabin itself was small with weathered logs, a rusted tin roof, and a wraparound porch with two rocking chairs that had probably seen better days decades ago.
It looked peaceful—normal even. Like the kind of place families escaped to for summer vacations.
It didn’t look like a place to hide from traffickers, and that’s what made it the perfect safe house.
"I've got you," she said quietly.
He gave her a tired smile. "I'm beginning to think I'm becoming a burden."
She snorted. "You almost died trying to save me—again."
"I've had worse days."
She shot him a look. "You keep saying things like that."
"Occupational hazard,” he teased.
"What occupation exactly?" she asked.
He laughed softly. "I'll tell you someday." She doubted that. He seemed to have another secret, another story, or another piece of himself he kept locked away. Together, they slowly climbed the porch steps. The old wooden boards creaked beneath their weight.
Doc unlocked the front door. "Welcome home." The words caught Chloe off guard because she wasn't sure she'd ever feel that way again about a place.
The cabin smelled like cedar and coffee.
A stone fireplace dominated one wall, and there was a worn leather couch in the corner of the room.
A handmade quilt was draped over the back of a rocking chair.
Bookshelves filled with medical texts lined another wall beside shelves stacked with mystery novels and Louis L'Amour westerns.
It felt lived-in, comfortable, and safe.
For the first time since Savage's death, she let herself exhale.
Doc noticed. "Is this okay?”
She nodded. "It feels—” She searched for the right word. "Safe."
"That's why I bought it." He pointed toward a hallway. "There's one bedroom."
Her eyes flicked toward Vengeance. "I'll take the couch." Both men answered at the same time.
"No,” Chloe said.
Doc folded his arms and looked between the two of them. "You're exhausted,” Vengeance said.
"So?" she said.
"So you'll take the bed,” Vengeance insisted.
"I'm not arguing with you,” Chloe said.
"You are,” Vengeance pointed out.
"I said I'm not,” Chloe countered.
"You've been arguing with me for two days,” Vengeance said.
She looked at Doc when he barked out his laugh. "He started it,” she insisted.
Vengeance actually smiled. "I probably did."
Doc shook his head. "I'm too old for this shit." He disappeared into the kitchen. "I'll make coffee."
Chloe turned back toward Vengeance and noticed that his face had gone almost gray. "You're hurting."
"I've been better,” he admitted.
She ignored his answer. "Come on."
He frowned. "Where?"
"To sit down,” she said.
"I’m good with standing,” he said.
"No, you’re not,” she insisted. She gently took his arm and guided him toward the couch.
To her surprise, he didn't resist. As soon as he sat down, his head fell back against the cushion and his eyes closed.
She watched him for a long moment. He looked—younger without the hard expression he constantly wore and without the tension in his shoulders.
He looked nothing like Dante. Whatever she'd expected the son of a monster to look like, it wasn't this.
His breathing changed and became uneven. She reached toward his forehead, and the instant her fingers touched his skin, he grabbed her wrist and his eyes snapped open—wild and searching. It took several long seconds before recognition settled in.
"Chloe." His grip immediately loosened. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"No." He released her completely. "I—” He rubbed a hand over his face. "Sometimes I wake up swinging." She wasn't surprised—not after everything she'd learned about him.
"I can’t blame you for that,” she said. “Not after everything Doc just told me about your father.”
His eyes drifted toward the fireplace. "When I was younger—" He stopped.
"You don't have to tell me,” she said, noticing that he looked about ready to drop from exhaustion and pain.
A grateful smile crossed his face. "Thank you." She sat beside him, not too close, but just close enough to feel the warmth coming off his body.
Doc returned carrying three mugs. He handed one to Chloe and another to Vengeance. "Drink,” Doc ordered. Vengeance took a sip and immediately winced.
Doc sighed. "You're running a fever."
"I'm fine,” Vengeance insisted.
"You've said that seventeen times tonight,” Doc said.
"You counting?"
"I started after number five,” Doc admitted.
Chloe hid a smile behind her coffee mug. "That’s the first genuine smile I've seen from either of you." The warmth in the room lasted only a moment, and Doc's expression grew serious. He reached into his coat pocket.
"I ran out to the mailbox while I was brewing the coffee," he said. Neither of them thought much of it until he laid a plain white envelope on the coffee table. There was no stamp and no address. It had only one word written across the front.
DOC
Chloe frowned. "That wasn't there before?"
"No." Doc's jaw tightened. "It had to have been delivered today."
Vengeance slowly set his coffee down. "Open it." Doc did. Inside was a single sheet of paper and nothing else. His expression darkened as he read it.
"What is it?" Chloe asked. He handed the page to Vengeance instead. The moment Vengeance's eyes landed on it, every trace of color disappeared from his face. His hand tightened until the paper crumpled.
"What does it say?" Chloe reached for it. He hesitated and then reluctantly handed it over. Her heart stopped when she read the two sentences.
You can hide the girl. You can't hide the rest of her family.
At the bottom, in elegant black ink, was a familiar signature.
—Dante Manzo
Chloe's hands began to shake. "My family.” She looked up at Vengeance. "What’s going to happen to my dad, my brothers and sisters, and my mom?” Terror flooded her chest. "They're going to Huntsville."
“How did they know that we’re here?” Vengeance asked.
“They must have followed us, somehow,” Doc said. “Dante has connections, money, and men everywhere.”
Vengeance was already struggling to his feet despite the pain, and Doc immediately stepped in front of him. "You're not going anywhere."
"I have to,” Vengeance insisted.
"No, you don’t,” Doc spat. “I just patched you up, and if you tear out your stitches, I’ll kick your ass.”
"If Dante can't get to Chloe, he’ll go after Bowie and her family.” His voice turned deadly quiet, and silence fell over the cabin because every one of them knew the same thing.
Dante had just changed the rules of the game.
This was no longer about capturing Chloe.
It had become a war against everyone Savage had ever loved.
"No." The word slipped from Chloe's lips before she even realized she'd spoken.
"No." She said it again, louder this time.
She pictured Dallas trying to keep eleven terrified kids calm while Bowie paced the clubhouse with a gun in his hand.
They'd already buried Savage, and now Dante wanted to make sure they never recovered.
Her chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.
"I'm going home,” she breathed.
Doc looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "No, you're not."
"I have to,” she insisted.
"You'll be dead before you cross the state line,” Doc said.
"I don't care."
Vengeance spun around to face her, nearly losing his balance. "I care." His voice was quiet but steady. "You don't get to throw your life away."
She laughed bitterly. "My family's in danger!"
"And if you go home, you’ll be giving Dante exactly what he wants,” Vengeance said. “He wants you running scared so that he can get to you.”
She spun toward him. "He threatened my mother!"
"I know."
"My little brothers and sisters, too!"
"I know." His voice cracked through the cabin, silencing everyone. For a heartbeat, nobody moved. Vengeance dragged a hand down his face before speaking again, his voice much softer now. "I know exactly what he's doing."
"Then how can you just stand here and do nothing?" she asked.
“I want to go back home just as much as you do,” he said. “But Doc is right—it’s not safe.”
"Tell me something." His eyes met hers. "If we go back, can we save them?” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. He didn't answer, but she already knew why, because the answer was no.
Tears burned her eyes. "You don't think we'd even make it there."
"No, I don’t,” Vengeance said.
Doc folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. "This wasn't a threat." Both of them looked at him. "It was bait."
Chloe shook her head. "I don't understand."
Doc walked to the fireplace and tossed another log onto the flames. "Dante knows exactly who Bowie is." The flames crackled. "He knows Bowie won't abandon his family."
"He won't,” Chloe agreed.
"No." Doc nodded. "And he knows you won't abandon Bowie."
Reality slowly settled over her. "So, if I go home—” Her voice barely existed.
"You lead Dante straight to them,” Doc finished. She closed her eyes. Every instinct screamed at her to get in Doc’s truck and ride until she reached Huntsville. Every bit of common sense told her Doc was right.
Vengeance slowly crossed the room. His movements were stiff from the stitches. He shouldn't even have been standing, yet there he was, stopping just in front of her. "I need you to trust me."
She looked up at him. "I don't know if I can."
"I know, but I'm asking anyway,” he said. She searched his face and noticed that there wasn't an ounce of manipulation there—only concern and fear. Not for himself, but for her.
"What are we supposed to do?" she asked.
"We stay alive,” Vengeance said.
"That's not enough,” she insisted.
"It's the only move we've got."
She laughed through her tears. "My dad always said the best defense was a good offense."
A faint smile crossed Vengeance's lips. "Savage also said never start a war you can't finish."
She blinked at him. "He told you that?"
"He said it after I picked a fight with three guys outside Doc's clinic while I was still recovering." Despite everything, she smiled.
"You picked a fight with three people, and it upset my father?"
"They were older,” Vengeance boasted.
"How much older?"
"College kids,” he said.
She couldn't help it; she laughed. "You were an idiot."
"I was sixteen,” he said.
"That's your defense?" she asked.
"It's all I've got."
The laughter faded almost as quickly as it came. She looked toward the rain-speckled window. "I miss him."
"So do I." She turned back toward Vengeance.
"You only knew him for a few months."
He nodded. "He still changed my life." She believed that without question.
Doc cleared his throat. "There's something both of you need to see." He disappeared down the hallway before returning a minute later carrying a weathered wooden box. It looked old. The corners were worn smooth from years of use. He set it gently on the coffee table.
"What is it?" Chloe asked.
"Something Savage left with me,” Doc said. Her breath caught. Doc looked at Vengeance. "He made me promise?—"
Vengeance frowned. "Promise what?"
"That I wouldn't give this to you unless Dante came back into your life.” He rested one hand on the lid. The cabin went completely silent, and Vengeance stared at the box like it was something dangerous.
"He knew that would happen?” Vengeance asked.
Doc nodded. "Savage always planned three steps ahead.
" With slow, deliberate movements, Doc lifted the lid.
Inside lay an old leather journal, a Colt .
45, and a sealed envelope. Across the front of the envelope, written in Savage's unmistakable handwriting, were six words that stole the air from Chloe's lungs.
For Vengeance, when Dante returns.