Chapter 3
WRECKER
Amanda lasted maybe ten minutes in the clubhouse before the walls started closing in on her.
I watched her try.
I watched her sit at the table with Brutus and Doc, watched her pet Smoke when he dropped his slobbery ball on her lap, watched her pretend she wasn't flinching at every heavy footstep on the wood floors. She kept smiling like her face hadn’t forgotten how, but the tension in her shoulders told the truth.
By the time Ranger stepped out for patrol and let the door slam shut behind him, she jumped so hard her fork clattered on the plate.
That’s when I stood.
I didn’t have to say a word. She followed me out the back door with Smoke trotting behind her like a damn shadow.
The morning air was cool, quiet, open. The compound stretched around us in solid lines of fence, trees at the edge of the property moving just enough in the wind.
Bikes were lined up where the brothers left them after breakfast. Tools were scattered across Coyote’s workbench.
Engine oil faint in the air. Normal MC shit.
But Amanda walked like she was trying not to collapse under the weight of everything she hadn’t said yet.
Ranger was already moving along the perimeter, eyes on the ground for fresh prints, fresh tracks, anything that didn’t belong. He lifted a few fingers when we stepped outside, his version of a wave, and kept going.
I brought Amanda to the far fence line, the spot where the noise from the clubhouse faded. Smoke nudged her hip before flopping into the grass with a groan, rolling onto his back like he knew she needed something soft to look at.
She didn’t comment on the dog. She didn’t comment on anything. That was how I knew it was bad.
We walked for a while. Long enough that her breathing evened out and some color came back into her face. She kept rubbing her thumb over the inside of her wrist, like she was trying to erase something only she could see.
Finally, she stopped.
She stared at the dirt, hair falling around her face, arms wrapped tight around herself.
“I froze,” she said, voice quiet. “I just… watched. I didn’t help her. I didn’t save her.”
I didn’t interrupt. Not yet.
Her throat worked. “She looked right at me. I heard her cry. And I didn’t move. I stood there like—” She swallowed hard. “Like a coward.”
I reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away.
“You were undercover,” I told her. “If you moved, he would’ve taken you too.”
“That’s not—” She shook her head. “Cap told me to wait. I didn’t.
I ran that access script, and when the firewall dropped I thought, this is the moment.
This is the break we needed. I thought if I didn’t go in right then, we’d lose it.
And maybe they’d move the girls again. Or kill them.
Or—” Her voice cracked. “I thought I could handle it. I thought I knew what I was walking into.”
Ranger paused ahead. Stayed close enough to hear us, far enough to let her talk.
Amanda’s eyes filled but she didn’t cry. She always held herself together until she didn’t.
“I walked past the elevator and saw… her. And I froze. I let her be taken. I let him see me. I’m the reason all of this is happening.”
“No,” I said, sharper than intended. “You’re not.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “I keep replaying it. If I’d moved faster. Yelled. Hit the alarm. Anything.”
“And then what?” I asked. “You’d be dead or sold. You going still saved your life. And you getting out let us find the building. The hub. The cameras. The logs. Without you, we’d still be blind.”
Her mouth trembled. “It doesn’t feel like that. It feels like I failed her.”
Smoke sat up and whined, leaning into her thigh. She finally looked down at him.
“He knows,” I said. “Smoke reads adrenaline like a damn meter. You’re wound tight enough to snap.”
Her laugh was thin and shaky. “I’m trying not to.”
“Don’t.” I stepped closer. “Don’t try to pretend you’re okay. You walked into a lion’s den alone. You saw something that would break most people. And you’re still standing.”
Her breath hitched like she didn’t believe it.
She wiped at her cheek. “I don’t want to freeze again. If something happens, I want to move. I want to fight. I don’t ever want to feel that helpless again.”
I lowered my forehead to hers before she could look away. She stiffened for half a second, then let the breath go, slow and unsteady.
“Then we teach you,” I said. “We teach you everything. And I stay with you while you learn.”
Her fingers curled in the front of my shirt. Not for balance. For grounding.
I’d spent most of my life believing protection meant standing in front of the danger. Taking the hit. Becoming the wall so no one else had to.
That instinct had kept people alive. It had also cost me more than I liked to remember.
But standing there with Amanda trembling against me, fingers fisted in my shirt like she was anchoring herself to the present, I realized something ugly and necessary all at once.
She didn’t need a shield.
She needed a choice.
What she was asking for wasn’t permission to be reckless. It wasn’t bravado or some bullshit need to prove she was tough. She wanted tools. Knowledge. The ability to move instead of freeze. Not because someone else told her to, but because she decided to.
That was different.
And if I kept treating her like something fragile that had to be guarded instead of someone who could be trained, I’d just be building another cage around her. A quieter one. One that felt like safety until it didn’t.
I wouldn’t do that to her.
Not ever.
So when I said I’d stay with her while she learned, I meant it differently than I ever had before.
Not in front of her.
Beside her.
A sound echoed from the clubhouse. Cap calling for church.
Amanda flinched so hard she stumbled. I caught her hip with one hand, steadying her.
Her eyes darted toward the building. Too many voices. Too many footsteps. Too many closed spaces.
“Hey,” I murmured, thumb brushing her side. “Look at me.”
She did.
“You sit next to me. Nothing happens to you.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the strength. She just nodded.
We started back toward the building. Ranger fell in step behind us, silent. Smoke kept brushing his body against Amanda’s leg, checking in every few steps.
When we hit the porch, she hesitated. I pressed my hand to her spine, not pushing. Just reminding her she wasn’t walking in alone.
She straightened her shoulders and walked inside.
But halfway across the common room, she froze again. Not fear this time, but recognition.
Ariel was standing near the kitchen doorway talking to Brutus, her expression worried. The moment she saw Amanda, she hurried over and wrapped her arms around her sister.
“Amanda,” Ariel breathed. “You scared the hell out of us.”
Amanda hugged her back, tight. “I know. I’m sorry. Cap shouldn’t have let you come back here. You should’ve stayed at the safe house.”
Ariel pulled back, eyes sharp. “Yeah, well, Cap didn’t ask. He wanted me where the boys could watch me. Especially after you—” She stopped herself. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
Amanda’s eyes flicked to me, then back to her sister. “I didn’t mean for any of this—”
Ariel squeezed her hand. “I know. None of this is your fault.”
Brutus called Ariel back into the kitchen. She went reluctantly, glancing over her shoulder at Amanda like she didn’t trust the air around her.
When the door swung shut behind Ariel, Amanda sagged slightly.
“She shouldn’t have to worry about me like that,” she whispered.
“She’s your sister,” I said. “Worrying is in the damn job description.”
Amanda snorted, soft. “Feels like everyone’s doing a lot of that lately.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe you’re worth worrying about.”
She stared at me like I’d handed her something she didn’t know how to hold.
Cap’s voice carried again. “Church!”
She tensed up immediately.
I leaned close, my voice low enough for only her to hear. “I’m right next to you the whole time. You don’t look at anyone but me unless you want to. You don’t answer anything you don’t want to. You breathe. I’m right there.”
Her shoulders dropped an inch. Not enough. But it was a start.
We walked into church side-by-side. Smoke followed until Ranger snapped his fingers and told him to stay.
Amanda paused at the doorway like it might swallow her whole.
I reached back, took her hand once more, and squeezed.
When she met my eyes, something settled in her. Not calm. But trust.
She stepped inside with me.
And as long as I was breathing, no one, the Watcher, ring, or anyone else, was touching her again.