Chapter 20 Blade
The engine hums low as we pull out of the Saints’ compound.
The glow from the bonfires fades in the side mirrors, swallowed by the dark stretch of Tennessee backroad.
Olivia’s quiet beside me, her hands folded in her lap.
The leather of her new cut creaks softly when she shifts.
I can smell the smoke from the fires in her hair, mixed with that faint vanilla scent that’s somehow always her.
It should calm me, but it doesn’t. It just makes my chest tighter.
“Hey,” I say finally, my voice low, careful. “You okay?”
She nods, staring out the window. “Yeah.”
That one word feels like a lie, but I don’t push. I can tell she’s turning everything over in her head—the fight, Layna’s hands on me, Bear losing his temper, and the way everyone looked at her afterwards.
“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” I say after a beat. “Layna shouldn’t have come near us.”
Olivia exhales, slow. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
She looks at me then, eyes sharp but tired. “It’s really not your fault that some woman doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”
I almost laugh, because she says it so calmly, like she’s just stating a fact. But the tightness in her voice gives her away. She’s hurt. And I don’t blame her. “She’s nothing to me,” I tell her. “That’s over—been over since I met you.”
“I know.” She turns back to the window, voice quieter. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
She hesitates, her reflection faint in the glass. “You just… looked angry. Not just at her. At something else.”
She’s not wrong. I didn’t like that my brother got to claim Olivia when calling Layna down. It should have been me and once again, my fucking hands were tied.
I grip the wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. “It’s been a long day,” I say finally. “Too much noise. Too many eyes.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “It was… a lot.”
We fall into silence again. The only sound is the soft rush of the tires on asphalt and the occasional hum of a passing truck. Her fingers start tracing the edge of the patch on her cut—the one that reads Protected by Bear and the Saints Outlaws.
“Can I ask you something?” she says quietly.
“Always.”
She looks down at her hands, then up at me. “What exactly are you to them? I mean, I know Bear’s your friend. Ayita too. But everyone treats you like you’re more than just a friend.”
My stomach twists. I keep my eyes on the road, pretending to think about how to phrase something harmless. “It’s complicated,” I say finally.
She huffs a small laugh that isn’t quite a laugh. “Everything between us seems to be complicated.”
“Guess that’s my charm.”
“Guess so.” We’re both quiet for another few miles. The lights of town appear ahead, flickering in the valley. She sighs softly, leaning back against the seat. “You know, Blade… I don’t need all your secrets. Not right now. I just need to know I can trust you.”
That hits me like a punch to the ribs. Because she can.
But the truth? The truth would ruin everything right now.
She’d be truly hurt—she’d look at me different.
The casino, the resort, the promises I made her…
all of it would look like one big lie. So, I reach over and take her hand, threading our fingers together.
“You can,” I say quietly. “You already do.”
Her thumb moves against mine, slow and deliberate. “I want to,” she whispers.
The road curves, and I squeeze her hand once before letting go, both of us sinking back into the hum of the car. By the time we reach her house, she’s half asleep, her head resting against the window. I park, step out, and walk around to her side. She blinks up at me as I open her door.
“Home,” I murmur.
She smiles faintly, sleepy but soft. “You’re staying, right?”
“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” I reply with a wink.
Her fingers brush my wrist, and for a second, everything else—the lies, the secrets, the danger, it all fades away. It’s just her, warm, real and mine—even if she doesn’t know the half of me yet.
I follow her inside, closing the door on the night and all the noise behind us.
Tomorrow I’ll deal with Bear, the land deals, the Judge Executive sniffing around.
But tonight? I just need her to keep believing in the version of me that she knows—until I figure out how to make the truth hurt less when it finally comes out.