Chapter 8 Austin
AUSTIN
The silence in the valley is like the aftermath of a gunshot—ringing and permeating the air.
My grip strangles the leather of the steering wheel, fighting the urge to whip the truck around, roar back into town, and put a bullet in James’s head.
And maybe a few more into the suits who dared to step into my shop and look at her.
Courtney sits silent in the passenger seat. She stares out the window, hands fidgeting in her lap. Her skin is the color of old paper, the adrenaline crash hitting her hard, but I can’t comfort her yet. Not when the rage boils my blood, thick and toxic.
She walked right into the lion’s den. Because she didn’t trust me. Because she thought I played her for a patch of dirt.
It’s stifling—this quiet. I finally let go of the steering wheel.
"Get inside," I growl.
She fumbles with the door handle, her movements clumsy. "Austin, I—"
"Not out here." My voice scrapes my throat. "Inside. Now."
I vault out of the truck before she can argue, marching around to her side. I yank the door open and grip her upper arm. My fingers dig in, not to hurt, but to anchor. To make sure she’s real. To make sure she’s here, in my territory, and not being sized up by Dominic Costa’s goons on Main Street.
I hustle her up the porch steps, eyes scanning the tree line. The shadows of the pines stretch longer, deeper. The threat isn’t theoretical anymore. It walked into my shop wearing an Italian suit.
I shove the front door open and push her into the foyer, kicking it shut behind us and throwing the heavy deadbolt into place. I engage the chain. Then I spin around, bracing my hands on my hips, chest heaving.
"Are you insane?" The words explode out of me, bouncing off the peeling wallpaper. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"
Courtney spins to face me. She doesn’t back down. Her pupils swallow the blue of her eyes, but that stubborn streak—the one I’ve loved since we were twelve—flares up.
"I went to get answers!" she shouts, voice cracking. "Because you wouldn’t give them to me! James told me everything, Austin. He told me the club has been trying to buy this land for five years."
"James is a lawyer, Courtney. He sees the world in deeds and borders. He's not lying about the letters, but he’s only telling you half the story because he doesn't know the man I am when the cut comes off."
"Not everything he says is true?" She steps toward me, poking a finger into my chest. Brave. Stupid, but brave. "Did the Broken Halos MC try to buy this estate? Yes or no?"
I snatch her hand before she can poke me again, trapping her wrist. I pull her close, eliminating the space between us until she has to crane her neck. I loom over her, a wall of scarred muscle and bad intentions.
"Yes," I hiss. "The club wanted the land. It’s a strategic buffer. If the Costas get this ridge, they can look right down into our compound. They can track our movements. Sniper lines. Surveillance. So yeah, Logan wanted the deed."
Her face crumbles. "So it was all real. You… you used me."
"Don't you dare." I squeeze her wrist, pulling her up onto her toes. "Don't reduce what I feel for you to club politics."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't give a shit about the land!" I roar. Dust shakes loose from the chandelier above us.
She flinches. I hate myself for causing it, but the dam has broken.
"Logan wrote those letters because it’s his job as President to look at maps, but he stopped sending them years ago because I made it clear this house was off-limits.
" I reach into the inner pocket of my cut—the one pressed against my heart—and pull out a folded, oil-stained internal memo from the club archives.
"Read the date, Courtney. It’s from the month after you left.
I officially flagged this property as 'VP Interest.' In this club, that means if any brother—including Logan—tried to seize it, they’d have to go through me first. I didn't wait for you so I could get a deed. I protected this dirt for a decade so you’d have a home to come back to. "
I release her wrist and scrub a hand over my face, pacing the small entryway.
"You think I’m here fixing your porch because Logan ordered me to?
You think I’m sleeping in your bed because of a property line?
I’m here because I’m obsessed with you, Courtney.
I have been since I was twelve years old. "
She wraps her arms around herself, watching me pace. "But James said—"
"James is trying to drive a wedge," I snap, stopping in front of her. "And you made it easy for him. You ran to the Outfitters. You exposed yourself. Those men who walked in? That was the Costa family. They aren't mountain rescue, Courtney. They don't play by our rules. If I hadn't been there..."
The image of the alternative flashes in my mind. Her, cornered. Taken. Used as leverage against the club. My vision goes red around the edges.
"I protected you," I say, breathing hard. "I nearly killed three men in the middle of Main Street because they looked at you too long. Does that sound like a business transaction to you?"
She stares at me, chest rising and falling rapidly. The silence stretches, thick and electric. She processes it—the violence she saw in the shop, the way I threw myself between her and the threat, the way I look at her right now. Like I want to consume her whole just to keep her safe.
"You… you really would have hurt them," she whispers.
"I would have burned the whole town down," I promise, stepping into her space again. I back her up until her spine hits the wall near the staircase. "If they touched you? If they took you? There wouldn't be a Pine Valley left by morning."
I place my hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. My body is a furnace, radiating heat.
"You are mine, Courtney. You were mine before you left, and you’re sure as hell mine now. The land? Keep it. Burn it. Give it to charity. I don't care. But you aren't leaving this mountain. Not now. Not ever."
Her breath hitches. She looks up, searching my face, and the fear in her eyes shifts. It changes into something darker. Something heavy. She sees the monster in me, the violence I keep on a leash, and instead of running, she leans in.
"Show me," she breathes.
The command snaps the last thread of my control.
I crash my mouth onto hers, a violent collision that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with ownership.
I’m not kissing her; I’m raiding her, my tongue forcing its way past her teeth to claim every wet inch of her mouth. I slam my hips into hers, grinding the heavy, aching length of my cock against her pussy through the thick barrier of our denim.
I’m rock hard, the adrenaline from the warehouse fight hardening me into a blunt instrument that needs to be buried deep inside her right fucking now.
She whimpers, hands fisting in my cut, dragging me closer. That little sound undoes me.
I sink my fingers into her hips, as I haul her up. She wraps her legs around my waist instantly, her pussy grinding against the ridge of my jeans with every heavy step I take toward the stairs.
I don’t slow down; I march us upward, the friction of her inner thighs squeezing my ribs while I devour her mouth, making sure she feels the predatory weight of the man who just cleared a room for her.
"You scared me," she gasps against my lips as we reach the landing.
"Good," I growl, turning into the master bedroom. "Maybe next time you'll stay put."
I kick the bedroom door shut and carry her to the bed.
I pin her to the mattress, my massive frame crushing her into the quilt.
I don't strip her yet—I want the raw, punishing friction of denim on denim, the way the coarse fabric burns against our swollen skin as I grind the thick, throbbing length of my cock against her soaked pussy. I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the heavy, localized musk of her arousal and the heady lavender scent of her skin, like crushed blossoms warmed by sun. My hands roam her body like I’m marking every inch of my territory, my palms mapping the heavy, engorged swell of her tits and the deep, inviting curve of her ass through her clothes.
I need her to feel exactly how much she belongs to me, right here in the fortress I built for her.
"You doubted me," I murmur against her throat, my teeth grazing the pulse point. "You thought I wanted the dirt."
"I'm sorry," she cries, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck. "I'm so sorry, Austin."
"You trust me now," I say. It’s not a question. "That's all that matters."
I hold her there, pinned beneath me, until our breathing syncs. Until the frantic beating of her heart slows to match the heavy thud of mine. I want to take her.
I’m done with barriers. I want these clothes gone so I can sink my cock into her pussy and fill her until she’s stretched to the limit, until she forgets her own fucking name and remembers only the taste of my seed.
But not like this. Not while the ghost of a threat still hangs over the house.
I roll off her, finally, pulling the duvet up over our sweat-slicked bodies. I wrap an arm around her waist and haul her back against my chest, spooning her so she can feel the cooling dampness of my release on her thighs. My hand rests flat on her stomach, heavy and protective.
"From now on, you don't go anywhere without me," I tell her. "Not for coffee. Not for groceries. And definitely not to see any lawyers. If you need something, I get it. If you need to go somewhere, I drive you."
She shifts slightly, pressing her back against my chest. "Is it really that bad? The Costas?"
"It’s worse," I admit, staring at the dust motes dancing in the shaft of afternoon light. "Dominic Costa is old school. He respects strength, but he preys on weakness. The Gunnars have held this mountain for three generations. He wants it. And he thinks we’re distracted."
"Are you?"
"I am now." I kiss her shoulder through her shirt. "But that just makes me more dangerous. Because now I have something to lose."
I feel her hand cover mine on her stomach. Her fingers lace through mine.
"I need to show you something," I say, sitting up. The adrenaline has faded into a cold, tactical focus. "Come with me."
I lead her down the hall to the small office off the kitchen. I slide open the hidden panel I installed behind the bookshelf to reveal a bank of high-definition security monitors. The blue light washes over her face.
"Look at this, Court. This estate isn't just a home." I point to the topographic overlay on the screen. "It's the only viable road access between the eastern cliffs and the highway. It’s a choke point."
I lean in, tracing the perimeter lines with a finger. "I’m not playing real estate tycoon. I’m building a fortress. The Costas want to expand west? They have to come through here. And by reinforcing this site with oak, iron, and bulletproof glass, I made sure they can't."
She stares at the screen, eyes wide. "You turned my house into a barricade."
"I turned it into a dead end for them," I correct her. "From a negotiation standpoint, the Costas lost their leverage the moment I locked your front door. Because now, the only way into the valley is through me."
She turns to me, realizing the scope of what I’ve done. What I’ve been doing for ten years.
"And I need to have a conversation with James," I add, voice low.
She reaches for me, fingers brushing my arm. "He said he was trying to protect me."
"He knew sending you to the Outfitters would cause a scene. He wanted to flush out our reaction." I check my phone. There’s a text from Logan.
Sitrep?
I type back quickly. She’s secure. House is locked down. I’m staying here tonight.
A moment later, bubbles appear. Costas pulled back to the ridge. They saw you claim her. They know she’s off limits now unless they want a full-scale war.
Good, I reply. Let them watch.
I look back at Courtney. She leans against the desk, watching me. She looks small in this war room I’ve built, but she looks like she belongs here. My woman. My chaotic, stubborn, beautiful problem.
"Austin?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"What happens now?"
I step close, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
"Now," I say, brushing a stray hair from her face. "We finish fixing this house. We make it impenetrable. And we make sure everyone in this town knows exactly whose patch you're wearing."
I walk to the window and look out at the tree line. The sun sets, casting long, bloody shadows across the yard. The war is coming. I feel it in the air, taste it on the wind.
I turn back to look at Courtney, my heart beating steady and strong.
Let them come. I’ll burn the whole fucking world down before I let them touch her again.