Chapter Ten
Jade
I dreamed about Jason. My brain dug him up to prove how much he could still hurt me.
He stood in the doorway of our old apartment wearing his familiar grin -- the smug one which meant he’d already decided the rules and expected me to play along.
A notebook filled one hand, cheap coffee the other, his shoulders loose as though the world had never managed to catch him.
Mom sat on the couch behind him, laughing at something on TV. Blue light from the screen washed over her face, softening wrinkles which had deepened over the past few years. For a few seconds, everything seemed normal enough my chest loosened.
The door behind Jason began to change. Wood became chain link. The deadbolt turned into a thick steel bar. The apartment doorway stretched into the Savage Raptors’ gate, tall and unforgiving, the kind of barrier you only built when you expected someone to try to break it.
And dripping across the metal in red spray paint, big enough to read from a distance, was one word. Owned.
I woke up gasping for breath, as though someone had shoved me underwater and yanked me out by my hair.
My heart hammered against my ribs until they ached.
Air refused to enter my lungs no matter how hard I tried to breathe.
Reality blurred at the edges -- dream mixed with memory while fear crawled across my skin with phantom fingers.
Why had I seen that word at the end? Was it because of Roth acting like he had rights to me because of my brother’s debt? Or was it something more?
Darkness filled the room except for a thin seam outlining the curtains, the only sign morning existed beyond our walls. Kane slept with his arm heavy around my waist. Warmth radiated from his chest against my back while his breath remained steady on my neck, counting seconds in perfect rhythm.
Safe, my body insisted.
Owned, the old fear tried to answer.
I forced air into my lungs and counted the way I’d taught myself when my apartment walls felt too thin.
One: I lay in Kane’s house, not my old place.
Two: sounds outside came from a compound full of people who knew my name, not an empty hallway where footsteps meant danger.
Three: Mom had been gone for a while now.
Dreaming about her didn’t bring her back from the dead.
Kane’s arm tightened around me. His subconscious sensed my panic before I could mask it. Words rumbled from his chest, rough with sleep and barely formed. “You okay?”
My instinct reached for the lie, quick and practiced. The lie had kept me alive for a long time. It had also kept me trapped.
“Yeah.” The word left my mouth anyway. Then I swallowed and forced the truth to follow it. “No. But I’m trying.”
Kane’s breath left him in a low sigh. The mattress shifted when he rolled, careful not to jostle me as though he sensed my raw nerves.
“I’ll accept nothing else right now.”
He moved me with an easy strength -- gentle without asking permission. My body wanted to flinch, but his careful handling gave me no reason. Within seconds I found myself on my back, staring up at him through dim light.
His hair stuck up on one side while stubble shadowed his jaw. Clear eyes met mine, which almost made me angry -- how dare he remain so steady while I unraveled?
His gaze searched my face without pressure or impatience, simply waiting. “Nightmare?”
“My brother,” I scraped out.
Something hard settled in his expression, aimed not at me but outward, as though he’d mentally placed a target on someone beyond these walls.
“Fuck Diaz, Roth, and anyone else who put you in this situation.” A laugh tried to happen and turned into something weak. His mouth twitched, but the anger didn’t leave his eyes. “Come here.”
“I’m already here,” I muttered, but I curled into him anyway because the truth was my body had already chosen him.
My forehead pressed against his chest. His arm wrapped around me again, and his hand started rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades.
My nervous system stopped screaming with each pass of his palm.
“Want to talk about it?” Kane asked, chin resting on my hair, voice soft but question genuine.
“Not really.” I breathed in, out. “Greatest hits tour. Jason. Mom And for some reason, a spray-painted word right before I woke up. That last part was new.”
His hand traveled up my spine and stopped, palm spread wide across my back as though checking I remained solid beneath his touch. “So we won’t pretend you’re fine.”
My chest constricted and released simultaneously. Terror and relief tangled together when someone truly saw me.
The quiet settled around us for several breaths. Beyond our room, the world continued.
“Spade’s going to want me in the office soon,” I murmured, because my brain liked to latch onto tasks when my emotions got too big. “He looked way too excited about those notes.”
A low huff against my hair. “You sure you’re up for it?”
“If I sit around doing nothing, my brain will eat me alive.” I closed my eyes. “Numbers and symbols feel safer than… thinking.”
He kissed my forehead. His lips lingered an extra beat -- a promise without words.
“Tell Spade when you need a break.” His voice sharpened, as though the man who could handle a cartel somehow found himself more irritated by an overcaffeinated hacker. “He’ll push you past your limits if you let him. The man forgets most humans can’t survive on caffeine and spite alone.”
“Says the ex-military biker who woke before dawn two days straight,” I shot back.
A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Yeah, but I came pre-programmed this way. You’re still adjusting to our circus.”
“Fair enough.”
Kane held me a second longer, then released me with obvious reluctance, though he never complained. I slid out of bed and paused, waiting for my legs to remember how to work properly.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes before I come in there and steal the hot water,” he called as I grabbed a clean T-shirt and my jeans.
I looked over my shoulder, and the words slipped out before I could stop them. “You love me and my hot shower habits.”
His answer didn’t hesitate. It didn’t come dressed in jokes. “Yeah.”
My stomach flipped as though I belonged back in high school, believing foolishly love happened only to other people. I shut the bathroom door, leaned against the wood, and grinned stupidly before forcing my legs to move.
The shower routine grounded me. Hot water cascaded down my back while soap bubbles gathered between my toes. I scrubbed my hair and focused on the bathroom tiles until my brain stopped replaying the nightmare.
Kane had already dressed when I walked out.
His boots stood planted on the floor, dark jeans hugged his thighs, and a worn shirt stretched across his shoulders.
The leather cut lay tossed over a chair as naturally as a second skin.
He glanced up from tying his laces, eyes sweeping over me with practiced efficiency, searching for tremors and shadows.
“You good enough?” The question didn’t pretend I was fine. It offered a smaller, reachable goal.
I nodded. “Good enough.”
He moved in and kissed my temple. Not demanding. Not hungry. Just a mark of presence. “Let’s go feed you before Spade eats your brain.”
* * *
The clubhouse felt like someone had turned the volume down and the tension up.
Life still moved through the space. Men talked near the bar.
Someone barked at a kid to stop running with crayons.
Bacon sizzled on the stove. Coffee filled the air with a scent that should have meant normal, but everything had an edge now, like the whole building listened for the next shoe to drop.
Casey and Marci were both in the kitchen already. Marci spotted me and called out, “Morning. You appear less truck-smashed today.”
I slid into a chair at the corner of the massive table. I traced one of the gouges with my fingers while I searched for something solid to anchor me. “Half a truck ran me over instead of the whole fleet. Progress counts, right?”
Kane moved past to grab a mug. His hand brushed my lower back as he passed, casual and automatic. The touch grounded me when nothing else could. My body recognized him as safety incarnate, his presence more real than my nightmares.
Casey dropped a plate in front of me. Eggs, bacon, toast. No questions.
“Eat,” she ordered. “I don’t want you passing out on Spade and giving him an excuse to whine.”
“He whines anyway,” I muttered.
Her grin flashed. “True.”
I started in on the eggs, savoring the taste.
Across the room, two guys lingered near a doorway, talking low.
I hadn’t learned their names yet. I recognized their cuts, their faces, how they stood with ownership of the space.
The pair existed somewhere between inner circle and Prospect status -- men who’d been around long enough to believe their opinions deserved oxygen.
Their voices dipped, though not enough.
“… locked down for one girl,” the shorter one muttered. “Seems overkill.”
My fork froze halfway to my mouth.
“Prez says nobody leaves alone,” his buddy answered. “You want to argue with him? Go ahead.”
“Kids climb the walls,” the first continued, frustration sharpening his tone. “Old ladies snap at everyone. We run groceries in teams as though war broke out. For what? A waitress who pissed off the wrong men?”
Heat crawled up my neck. My stomach twisted so hard the bacon turned to ash on my tongue.
The second guy shifted, tone harder. “Shut it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The first guy’s voice scraped against my ears. “Diaz never gave a damn about us before she appeared. Now a cartel mess sits on our doorstep. We became shields for someone who didn’t exist to us a month ago.”
My knuckles turned white around the fork. Shame burned through me, hot and immediate. Guilt followed close behind. Part of me wanted to offer myself as a sacrifice so others could breathe easier. But I knew Kane wouldn’t want that.