Chapter Twenty-Two
Chase
Chase kept his arm wrapped tightly around Kath’s waist as they walked towards the clubhouse steps. He was careful of their path, mindful of her bare feet. She was still trembling slightly against his side, and every small shiver made something fierce and protective flare hotter in his chest.
Mason stood waiting like a statue carved from granite—arms crossed, eyes sharp, taking in every detail. His father’s gaze flicked from Chase to Kath and back again, reading the situation in that silent, all-seeing way he had.
Chase stopped a few feet away, Kath tucked securely against him.
“Dad,” he said, voice rough but steady. “This is Kath. She’s mine.”
The words came out simpler and more certain than he’d expected. No hesitation. No trying to soften it. Just the truth.
Mason studied Kath for a long moment. Chase could feel her tension, the way she tried to stand taller even though she’d been through hell tonight. His father’s expression didn’t relax, but it shifted—something almost like respect flickering behind the hard mask.
“Kath,” Mason said. “You’re safe here. No one touches you on this property.” He looked back at Chase. “We’ll talk about you riding out without permission later.”
Chase nodded once. He’d take whatever punishment came. Right now, all that mattered was Kath standing beside him, alive and breathing.
Mason jerked his chin towards the door. “Get her inside. Doc’s waiting to check her over. Then both of you eat something. You look like you’re running on fumes.”
Chase guided Kath through the doors and into the familiar warmth of the clubhouse.
A couple of old ladies were already moving—blankets, water, quiet efficiency born from years of patching people up after nights like this.
Doc appeared almost immediately, gentle hands checking the goose egg on the back of Kath’s head and the raw skin on her wrists.
While Doc worked, Chase stayed close, one hand resting on her back. He couldn’t stop touching her—small, grounding touches that reminded him she was really here. Safe.
When Doc finally stepped back and declared she was concussed but otherwise okay, Chase felt the last of the adrenaline crash hit him. His knees almost buckled. He guided Kath to a quiet corner couch and pulled her down with him, wrapping both arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I tried to stay away to keep you safe. Thought if I pulled back, they wouldn’t look at you. I was wrong. I should’ve told you what was happening. I should’ve—”
Kath turned in his arms and pressed her forehead against his. “Stop. You came for me. That’s what matters.”
Chase closed his eyes, breathing her in. The fear of losing her, and especially the way it had echoed the old wound of his mother’s disappearance and death, still sat like ice in his gut. But having her here, warm and solid against him, was slowly melting it.
“I was so fucking scared,” he admitted, voice cracking. “When I got to your house and you weren’t there...it felt like history repeating. Like I was going to lose someone I—” He swallowed hard. “Someone I love.”
Kath’s breath hitched. She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining.
“I love you too,” she whispered. “Even when I was scared you were pulling away...I still loved you.”
Chase kissed her then—slow, deep, and full of everything he hadn’t been able to say while he was trying to protect her by staying distant. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers again.
“No more pulling away,” he said. “No more secrets. You’re stuck with me now, Kath. All of me—the music, the club, the crazy family. All of it.”
She gave a watery laugh and nodded. “Good. Because I’m not letting go either.”
They stayed like that for a long time, tangled together on the couch while the clubhouse moved around them—brothers reporting in, Mason and Slate coordinating from the war room, the low hum of relief and business as usual.
For the first time since the threats started, Chase felt something close to peace.
Kath was safe.
She was his.
And whatever came next, whether ghosts from his mother’s past or new challenges for the club, they would face it together.
He pressed another soft kiss to the top of her head and held her a little tighter.
This was worth every risk.
She was worth everything.
***
Mason
Mason stood just inside the war room doorway, arms crossed over his chest, watching the low hum of activity slowly wind down.
The clubhouse had that post-storm feel—brothers moving with purpose but without the sharp edge of imminent violence.
His eyes kept drifting towards the corner couch where Chase sat tangled up with the girl.
Kath.
She looked small against his son’s broad frame, platinum hair tucked under Chase’s chin, but there was steel in the way she held on. Mason recognized that kind of quiet strength. He’d seen it in Willa. In too many old ladies who’d earned their place the hard way.
A heavy tread behind him pulled his attention. Bear filled the doorway, Slate a step behind, both of them wearing the satisfied-but-weary look of men who’d just finished dirty work.
“Report,” Mason said quietly, voice pitched low enough not to carry.
Bear jerked his chin towards the hall. “They’re handled. Hurley and Ruger drove the pair to the state line. Left ’em breathing, but they won’t be walking straight for a while. Myron wiped everything—phones, photos, the burner they used to scope her house. No trail back to us.”
Slate leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms folded.
“The tall one, the asshole with the scar, finally cracked when Bear explained exactly whose girl he’d grabbed.
Started singing about old Diamante connections.
Said they thought she was just some sweetbutt riding a custom out of your garage.
Figured it’d sting you without bringing the whole club down on ’em. ”
Mason’s jaw tightened. Diamante. That name still tasted like ash after all these years.
The old club had been a thorn in the Rebels’ side since before Chase was born—poisonous alliances, territory grabs, the kind of rot that got good men killed and families torn apart.
They’d thought they’d burned the last of it out years ago. Apparently some embers still glowed.
“They know better now?” Mason asked, tone flat.
Bear gave a slow nod. “They know. We made it clear, crystal. You touch anyone under our protection, whether old lady, prospect’s girl, some brother’s dog walker, it doesn’t matter—we will come down with the full fury of the club.
Means those Diamante ghosts get another generation of reasons to stay dead.
Word’ll spread. The ones still clinging to the old patches won’t test us again anytime soon. ”
Mason exhaled through his nose, the knot in his chest easing a fraction.
His gaze returned to the couch. Chase had pulled a blanket over Kath’s shoulders and was murmuring something against her hair that made her lips curve, just a little.
The boy looked...settled. Not the angry, watchful kid who’d shown up carrying Carrie’s lies like armor.
This was a man who’d ridden out hot to bring his woman home, consequences be damned.
Pride and worry twisted together in Mason’s gut. Pride that Chase had stepped up. Worry that the life he’d chosen—for the music, for the girl—would keep pulling danger towards the people he loved.
“You did good tonight,” Mason said to Bear and Slate, meaning it. “All of you. Get some rest. We’ll circle back in the morning on any loose threads.”
Bear clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder as he passed. “Kid’s got your eyes and your stubborn streak. He’ll be all right.”
Slate lingered a moment longer. “He rode like he belonged out there. Didn’t hesitate.”
Mason gave a short nod. He already knew. He’d watched the feed from Myron’s drone. Watched his son kick in a door and pull the girl out while the rest of them handled the front. Reckless as hell. Exactly what Mason would’ve done at that age.
While the room finally cleared, Mason stayed where he was, letting the quiet settle. Chase glanced up, met his eyes across the space, and gave a small, grateful dip of his chin. No words needed. Not tonight.
Mason returned the nod, then turned towards the stairs leading up to the rooms where Willa waited. The club had protected its own. His son had claimed his woman and brought her home.
For tonight, that was enough.
The rest—the long talks, the explanations, the future they’d have to build carefully—could wait until morning.