Chapter Seven
The afternoon sun gleamed through the community hall’s wide windows, glinting off rolls of wrapping paper and neatly stacked boxes of toy donations.
Ellie stood at the folding table, taping a label onto a plastic tub of stuffed animals with a little too much force.
She barely noticed how the tape crinkled or that her thumb caught the edge.
She didn’t notice much these days, except when he was in the room. Dasher was here. Again.
He’d shown up every day since they got back from that supply run.
Since that night in the cabin, the night that had shifted everything for her.
She’d let him in. God, she’d let him in.
Not just into her bed, but into the space she’d kept locked up for five long years.
And the next morning, he’d shut the door so fast she barely had time to catch her breath.
Now, every time she caught a glimpse of him lifting crates or handing out flyers with Beast, her stomach twisted. She didn’t ask him to stay. She hadn’t expected him to, but he stayed anyway. That made it worse.
“Need help with that?” Dasher’s voice came from just behind her, soft and tentative.
Ellie startled, turning too fast. “No,” she said too sharply. Then she sighed. “Sorry. I just ... I’ve got it.”
Dasher nodded, backing off without another word, but she saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. It cut deeper than she wanted it to.
She returned to sorting toys, willing herself not to look at him again. It didn’t work.
From across the room, she watched him joke with a volunteer, some college kid who was trying too hard to look cool around a real biker.
Dasher grinned, said something that made the kid laugh.
That easy charm of his hadn’t dulled. If anything, it was worse now.
Refined, tempered by age and whatever wounds he’d carried since they last saw each other.
Ellie swallowed hard. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to keep things professional. Polite. Focused on the toy drive and nothing more.
She glanced toward the doorway where Beast stood, talking in low tones with another Sentinels member. Tension radiated off the two men, shoulders tight and expressions grim. Something was off. Ellie moved closer. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Beast didn’t lower his voice as much as he thought.
“Red Hounds were spotted cruisin’ near Maple Creek last night,” he muttered to Dasher. “Too close for comfort.”
Ellie’s heart stopped. The Red Hounds. They were trouble, always had been. Not like the Sentinels, who kept mostly to their own and had lines they didn’t cross.
“Any sign they’re gunnin’ for the event?” Dasher asked, voice cool and steady.
“Not yet,” Beast said. “But it’s no damn coincidence they’re showing up now.”
Ellie stepped forward before she could second-guess herself. “You think they’d come after the toy drive?” Her voice wavered more than she liked.
Three heads turned toward her. Beast gave a respectful nod. Dasher’s jaw flexed.
“We don’t know anything for sure,” Dasher said. “But if they’re poking around, I’m not taking chances.”
Ellie crossed her arms, trying to keep her hands from shaking. “I don’t want this to become ... violent. This is about the kids,” she pointed out.
“And it will stay about the kids,” Dasher said, his voice firmer now. “I won’t let anyone mess with it. With you.”
Something in his tone made her breath hitch.
Beast clapped a hand on Dasher’s shoulder and turned to leave. “I’ll have a few of the boys swing by on rotation. Just in case.”
Ellie nodded numbly. The moment Beast left, the room felt smaller. Quieter.
She turned to Dasher. “You don’t think they’d do something in broad daylight, do you?” Ellie had to ask.
Dasher shook his head. “Not their style. They like to rattle cages first. Show up, sniff around. Make folks uneasy.”
“Well, it’s working,” she muttered.
His eyes softened. “You don’t need to be scared. I’m not going anywhere.”
That was the problem. Her traitorous heart leapt at the sound of those words.
As much as she hated how he’d shut her out, as much as she told herself to move on, a part of her kept looking for him in the crowd. Kept noticing when he stood a little too close or handed her a mug of coffee without asking how she took it—because he remembered.
And now, seeing him like this—serious, protective, focused—brought her right back to the days when she used to ride behind him, trusting him with her whole world.
“You didn’t have to stick around, you know,” she said quietly.
“I wanted to,” he replied, equally soft.
Their eyes locked. The air crackled with tension.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to make up for something,” she said, her voice tight.
“I’m not trying to fix the past, Ellie. I know I can’t.” He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell the leather and pine on his jacket. “But I’m not gonna pretend that night didn’t mean anything.”
She blinked. Her throat felt too tight to speak.
“Whatever you think of me now,” he said, voice low, “I never stopped giving a damn.”
Ellie swallowed hard. “Then why did you pull away?”
Dasher’s jaw clenched, but before he could answer, the sound of laughter echoed from the back hallway, volunteers returning from lunch. The moment shattered, and the guarded mask slipped back into place on his face.
“It’s complicated,” he said. “But I’m here now. That counts for something.”
Ellie turned away before he could see how much that stung.
She spent the rest of the day keeping her distance, directing volunteers, sorting toy bins, and avoiding his eyes.
But every now and then, she caught a glimpse of him watching her.
Not with expectation or frustration. With regret and something else.
Something that made her knees weak and her heart ache.
That night, long after the volunteers had gone home and the last crate was packed away, Ellie locked up the hall and stepped into the cold. Snow was starting to fall again, fat flakes swirling in the golden glow of the streetlamp.
She felt it before she saw him. Dasher leaning against his bike at the edge of the lot, helmet in one hand.
“You want a ride?” he asked.
Ellie hesitated. Everything inside her wanted to say yes.
But she shook her head. “I’ll walk. I need the air.”
Dasher nodded but didn’t leave. Didn’t start his bike. Just stood there, watching her go, like he didn’t want to turn his back first.
Ellie didn’t look back, but she felt him there. The weight of what they were. What they still could be and what they might lose again.
****
The Red Hounds were sloppy. That was the only reason Dasher even had a shot at catching up to the stolen truck.
He crouched beside his bike at the edge of an abandoned gas station, engine still warm beneath him, the scent of snow and diesel thick in the air.
The Red Hounds had ditched the stolen truck behind the old place, maybe planning to strip it later or transfer the goods into a different vehicle.
Either way, they hadn’t expected someone to come after it so fast. That was their mistake.
Dasher clenched his hands into fists inside his gloves, rage simmering beneath his skin. They had taken Ellie’s truck. Her toys. The ones she’d spent weeks gathering, prepping, counting down like every piece mattered. Because it did matter to her, to the kids, to the entire damn town.
Dasher knew, better than anyone, that this wasn’t just about a few stuffed animals and donated bikes. This was her hope. Her second chance. Her fight to make something good, and the Red Hounds had spit on it.
He scanned the area. The truck was parked under a sagging carport behind the gas station, partly hidden by the tall brush and overgrown weeds. Snow clung to its edges, and he could see the faint silhouettes of two figures smoking near the open back doors.
“Idiots,” he muttered.
There were probably more inside. Maybe a lookout in the station itself. Maybe not. They were bold, but not smart. Not if they thought stealing from Iron Sentinels territory wouldn’t get them burned.
His phone buzzed in his jacket. A text from Beast: Need backup? Say the word.
Dasher stared at the screen for a beat, then turned it off. He didn’t want backup. This was personal.
He crept through the trees lining the property, boots crunching softly through snow. Every step tightened the knot in his gut. Not because he was scared. He’d done far worse jobs with far worse odds.
Ellie’s voice kept echoing in the back of his mind. She had thought things between them were different now. He’d shut her out the morning after their night together. Seeing her face when the truck went missing had gutted him.
She hadn’t cried. Ellie wasn’t the crying type. She’d just gone quiet, and that was worse. So now he was here, risking his neck for a bunch of donated teddy bears and toy trucks, because if there was one thing he could still do for her, it was this.
Dasher drew the knife from his boot and moved. Fast and silent, cutting around the back toward the gas station’s service entrance. The old side door creaked but didn’t stick. Inside, the building was dark and cold, reeking of oil, mold, and something sharp and chemical.
He paused, listening. Voices filtered in from the front. Two guys, laughing about something. Betting how much the toys would get flipped for. His blood turned to fire.
One of them said, “I still don’t get why we bothered. Ain’t like they can trace it back to us.”
“You dumb? It’s about the message. We move in, stir shit up. MCs get nervous.”
“Red Hounds don’t answer to no one.”
That’s all Dasher needed to hear.
He moved, fast and brutal. Knife to the first guy’s throat before he could even reach for his gun. The second spun, wide-eyed, but Dasher slammed him against a rusted vending machine and knocked him cold.
“Don’t answer to no one, huh?” Dasher muttered, wiping his blade clean.
He found the keys on one of them and made his way outside, keeping to the shadows. No sign of the other two by the truck. He checked the back. Still full. Bins of dolls, action figures, puzzles. Dozens of carefully wrapped packages. Ellie’s neat labels on every box.
He climbed into the cab and started the engine. Headlights flared. That’s when he heard shouting behind him.
“Hey! What the—”
Two more Red Hounds ran toward the truck, but Dasher didn’t wait.
He slammed the gas, tires skidding across the icy pavement as the truck roared forward.
Gunfire cracked behind him, but nothing hit.
He tore down the back road, heart pounding, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing holding him together.
He didn’t slow until he hit Steelhaven town limits. By then, the snow was falling hard, blanketing the windshield, turning the road slick and treacherous.
He pulled into the Sentinels storage yard and cut the engine. Silence. Dasher sat there, hands trembling slightly. Not from fear. From adrenaline. From rage. From something deeper, bone-deep relief.
He got the truck back. He did something right. The door to the yard opened, and Beast stepped into view, flanked by Rook and Gauge. The three men stared at the truck, then at Dasher as he stepped down from the cab.
Beast raised an eyebrow. “Alone?”
Dasher just nodded.
Rook whistled low. “Damn.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself gutted,” Beast said, but his tone wasn’t harsh. It was ... approving.
Dasher looked back at the truck. “They took it for a reason. Message or not, it was personal.”
Beast didn’t argue. Dasher exhaled and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Where’s Ellie?”
“She’s still at the hall. Trying to reorganize everything for the event. Thought the truck was long gone.”
“I’ll take it to her,” Dasher offered.
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Nope,” Dasher muttered, climbing back in. But it was the right one.