Chapter 14 Amanda
AMANDA
Cap’s voice came through the comms. “Secure the kid. Bag the gear. Ghost—scrub the drone footage. I want frame-by-frame.”
I looked up at Wrecker. His jaw was locked, his vest streaked with dirt, eyes scanning every corner like he could see through walls.
But me? I was shaking again.
Not from the cold. Not from the power outage.
From the feeling that even inside these walls, I wasn’t safe.
I hated that the fear didn’t care about logic.
Didn’t care about locked doors or armed men or the fact that this place had survived worse than a power outage and a threat. Fear wasn’t rational. It didn’t sit quietly and wait for reassurance.
It crawled.
It settled into my bones and whispered that safety was temporary. That it could be taken away in a second. That all it took was one mistake, one unlocked door, one moment alone.
I’d believed I was free once before.
I’d believed walls meant protection.
I knew better now.
My hands curled at my sides, fingers stiff, like my body was already bracing for impact. Like it remembered exactly how it felt to be grabbed, to be moved without consent, to disappear while the world kept spinning.
Inside these walls or not, I was still a target.
He turned to me slowly, his hand brushing my lower back. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
I stepped back.
“No.”
His brows lifted, not in surprise. But with concern masked as patience.
“I’m not going up there alone,” I said. “I’m not—I can’t be alone again. Not right now.”
That was the truth. I didn’t care if the room had locks or if it was behind two layers of club security. Alone still meant vulnerable. Alone meant dark thoughts and shaking hands and trying not to scream.
Wrecker didn’t argue. He just nodded once and shifted his stance. “Come on.”
He led me through the hallway, past the bar and the war room, into the garage where the MC stored their bikes. It smelled like motor oil and rubber and sweat, which was comforting in a weird, gritty way. The space was enclosed, no windows, walls lined with storage lockers and racks of tools.
The garage felt different from the rest of the compound.
Not softer, just quieter. No windows. No sightlines to the outside. Just concrete and steel and the weight of heavy things that didn’t move easily.
It grounded me.
I focused on the details the way Doc had taught me. The grit on the floor beneath my palms. The faint vibration of the generator through the walls. The smell of oil so sharp it burned a little in the back of my throat.
Real things. Present things.
Wrecker moved with purpose, checking locks, scanning corners, flipping switches like this was muscle memory instead of fear. Watching him helped. He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t rushing.
If he believed this space was safe, maybe my body would catch up eventually.
Wrecker checked the door locks, then flipped a switch to power on the backup lights. Low glow strips running along the ceiling came to life. It bathed everything in soft orange light.
He crouched in front of me as I slid down against a metal cabinet. My legs gave out the second I stopped moving.
“You good?” he asked, voice low.
I nodded. Lied.
He stayed close, kneeling just far enough to give me space, but still in reach. His presence steadied me.
Until—
Gunfire.
Sharp. Distant. Coming from the north side of the compound.
Ariel screamed.
Wrecker was on his feet instantly, gun drawn, already scanning the door like he expected it to blow open.
Doc’s voice crackled through the comms. “Cap, we’ve got shots fired. Northern perimeter.”
Brutus: “I’m headed out. Confirm if it’s a breach.”
Wrecker stepped in front of me, shielding me from the door.
My heart took off in my chest. The air felt too thick. My fingers curled against the cold floor. “They’re here.”
“Not for long,” he muttered.
Ranger came through the comms next. “Already outside. Smoke’s with me.”
I hadn’t even known Smoke was back. I barely knew what day it was.
Ghost: “I’m in the woods. One target’s flanking. Masked. Light footed. Not Watcher.”
Cap: “Don’t engage yet. I want eyes before we hit back.”
I pressed my back harder into the cabinet behind me. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. I tried to press my palms together, tried to breathe, but it felt like my ribs were made of stone.
Wrecker turned back to me, crouched low, and cupped my face gently, like I was glass, and he knew I might break.
“Hey. With me. Don’t drift. Right here.”
I dragged in a breath. It caught halfway. “This is my fault.”
His brow furrowed.
“They came for me. Again. It’s because of me—”
“No.” His voice was sharp, not with anger—just final. “They came for all of us. You just woke them up.”
He let that hang for a beat. Let me absorb it.
The ring underestimated this club.
They weren’t going to make that mistake again.
The comms crackled again. Ghost: “Moving in. Confirm two shooters. Low-level militia, not trained hitters.”
Wrecker shifted, reaching for the door handle, then froze.
Boots.
Heavy, quick steps outside the garage.
He signaled me without looking. Flatten down, stay quiet.
I slid lower, heart punching my ribs.
Then—
The door exploded inward.
A masked man charged in, rifle raised.
I screamed.
Wrecker slammed me behind him with one arm and charged.
No hesitation.
The man fired. Missed.
Wrecker tackled him into the tool bench, the crash loud enough to wake the whole block. Metal flew. Tools scattered. Wrecker drove his elbow into the guy’s throat, then slammed his head into the concrete floor once, twice, until he dropped.
The man didn’t move again.
Wrecker stood over him, chest heaving, shaking from adrenaline. His knuckles were split. Blood smeared across his vest.
And I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
Not because of the fight.
Because I’d been two feet from being taken again.
Again.
It wasn’t the violence that froze me.
It was how close it had been.
The way the door had burst inward, the sound splitting the air, my scream tearing out before I could stop it. The way Wrecker’s body had moved in front of mine without hesitation, without thought, like instinct had taken over where fear ended.
Two feet.
That was all the space between me and losing everything I’d clawed back.
I pressed my forehead to the cabinet, forcing myself to stay upright, to stay here. My knees shook like they were threatening to give out, but I refused to let myself slide down again.
Not this time.
Not after I’d warned him.
Not after I’d survived.
“Clear!” Doc’s voice rang out from the doorway.
Cap followed close behind him, gun drawn. His eyes swept over the fallen body, then locked on me.
“You okay?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure that was true. My back was still pressed against the cabinet. My lungs felt like they couldn’t get enough air. And Wrecker? He looked like he was one wrong move away from tearing the guy apart all over again.
Doc crouched beside the body, checking vitals even though we all knew the answer. “He’s alive. Barely.”
Wrecker didn’t flinch. He just stared at his bloodied hands.
Cap tilted his head, assessing him. “That adrenaline’s a bitch, huh?”
No response.
Cap didn’t push. He turned to Ghost, who appeared like smoke itself in the corner of the room, a bloodied rag in his gloved hand.
“Two more down on the north perimeter,” Ghost said. “Militia, like I thought. Amateur tactics, cheap gear, no comms system. This wasn’t a coordinated hit.”
Doc glanced up. “Just a warning?”
Ghost dropped the bloodied cloth onto the floor. “More like a message.”
Cap grunted. “What’s the message?”
“That they can still get close.”
The words chilled me worse than the air.
“They were testing our defenses,” Ghost added. “Seeing how fast we respond. How we communicate. Looking for weak points.”
Cap’s jaw ticked. “And they picked the wrong damn night.”
Doc moved toward me, his tone gentler than usual. “Amanda, come on. Let’s get you checked out.”
I looked to Wrecker instead.
He was still staring at the guy on the floor. Not blinking. Breathing shallow and slow, like he was trying to get back in control.
I reached for him.
That broke the spell.
His head snapped toward me. He crossed the space between us in two strides, dropping to one knee and pulling me into his arms. His chest was solid and warm and still shaking.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
My fingers curled into his vest again. “He almost got me.”
“But he didn’t.”
I leaned into him. “I froze. Again.”
“You screamed. You warned me. That’s not freezing. That’s survival.”
I couldn’t argue.
Not when he held me like that. Not when my heartbeat was syncing with his.
Cap moved toward the body, motioning to Brutus and Ranger, who had just entered the garage. “Bag him. We’ll question him once he’s conscious.”
Brutus lifted the guy like he weighed nothing. Ranger checked the door for damage before locking it up again.
Ghost lingered near the back, staring at the garage wall like he was solving a puzzle in his head.
“Watcher wasn’t here,” he said finally. “But his men were.”
Cap grunted. “Then they meant to take someone.”
Me.
They meant to take me.
Wrecker’s arms tightened around me like he’d read my mind.
Doc stepped closer. “Let’s get her inside.”
Wrecker looked at Cap.
Cap nodded once. “Go.”
We left the garage slowly, Wrecker keeping one arm around me, his other hand still flexing like he wasn’t sure the fight was really over.
And honestly?
Neither was I.