Chapter 8
Eight
Hawk
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet, either. This one felt heavy, like the walls had heard too much over the years and decided to keep their mouths shut about it.
I noticed shit like that.
Emma hadn’t said a word since we pulled up. Not on the bike ride, not during the walk to the front door. She moved like someone underwater—slow, distant, her eyes drifting past things instead of actually seeing them.
Shock.
I’d seen it before. Too many times.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she unlocked the door. The second it clicked open, she stepped inside without looking back.
I followed.
Habit made me turn and lock the door behind us immediately. Outlaw life didn’t allow you to believe you were safe just because you were standing inside four walls.
Emma didn’t check if I was behind her. Didn’t ask. She just walked. Straight through the house like she’d done it a thousand times before.
Stairs. Hallway. Bedroom.
Autopilot.
I stayed a few steps behind, watching the way she held her wrist tight against her chest, like it might fall off if she let go. It was already swelling. Bad.
Yeah, that thing was definitely broken.
She pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside. A small lamp glowed softly on the nightstand, casting warm light across the room. Old house. Clean. Well-kept. Family photos sat on the dresser—parents, maybe grandparents. Someone had loved this place once.
Emma moved toward the closet without saying a word, still clutching her wrist, still walking like she wasn’t fully inside her own body.
Something about it twisted deep in my chest.
Didn’t like it.
The second her hand reached for the closet door, I moved. My arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back before she could touch the handle.
Her body went stiff for half a second, but she didn’t fight me.
“Relax,” I muttered near her ear, my voice coming out rougher than I meant it to. I didn’t do comfort. Didn’t do soft conversations or reassuring speeches.
But the way she’d been moving all night—like she might shatter if someone breathed too hard around her—yeah, didn’t like that either.
She went still in my arms. Completely still.
Her back rested against my chest, and I realized just how small she was. The top of her head barely reached my shoulder.
Tiny thing.
Which made the memory of earlier hit harder. Because that tiny thing had dropped a grown man with one punch.
That almost made me smile.
Almost.
Minutes passed before she finally spoke.
“I punched him.”
Her voice was quiet, flat—like she was announcing the weather.
I didn’t interrupt.
“I’ve never punched anyone before,” she continued.
A small pause.
“Turns out I’m not very good at it.”
My eyes dropped to her wrist again. Yeah. That explained the break. She let out a quiet breath. “First fistfight of my life and I immediately break my wrist.”
A beat.
“Ten out of ten experience. Highly recommend.”
The corner of my mouth twitched.
She shifted slightly in my arms.
“Yeah. I think I broke it.” She repeats while looking at her wrist.
“You did.”
No point in lying.
She went quiet again for a moment, then said the words that made something dark wake up inside my chest. “He tried to force himself on me.”
My entire body went still.
My arm tightened around her waist before I even realized I was doing it.
“Fuck.”
The word left my mouth low and dangerous.
“He grabbed me out front,” she continued quietly. “Right outside the bar.”
My jaw tightened.
“I told him to let go. He laughed.”
A small breath left her.
“So I punched him.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Well… attempted to punch him.”
Silence filled the room again.
But my head was already ten steps ahead. Some drunk piece of shit thinking a girl standing outside alone meant easy prey. Bad move. Real bad move. Because now I was involved. And I didn’t walk away from shit like that. Not once it crossed my path.
I looked down at her face. Mascara smeared under her eyes, hair a mess. Exhaustion written all over her. And somehow… somehow she was still beautiful.
That annoyed me.
I didn’t do women. Didn’t take them home. Didn’t deal with their problems. Club girls existed for a reason—easy, temporary, uncomplicated.
But this girl? This girl punched a man unconscious. Then walked ten damn miles down a dark road with a broken wrist.
Something about that pressed against my ribs in a way I didn’t understand.
Didn’t like it.
But I wasn’t ignoring it either. And that right there was the problem.
My hand slid down to her injured arm and lifted it carefully. The second I touched her wrist, she sucked in a breath.
Yeah. Definitely broken.
“We’re getting that looked at.”
She snorted quietly. “With what? Duct tape and biker wisdom?”
My eyebrow lifted. “Hospital.”
“Oh good,” she muttered. “Because I was worried you were about to say whiskey and a wrench.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Ghost.
I answered without letting go of her. “Talk.”
“Got something,” Ghost said.
“Yeah?”
“That guy she punched.”
My eyes narrowed. “What about him?”
“Couldn’t find him,” Ghost said. “But I hacked the bar’s security cameras.”
Of course he did. “And?”
Ghost continued. “Got a clear shot of his face when he walked out front.”
My jaw tightened. “Black Reapers.”
Well, that complicated things.
The Black Reapers were a rival club two counties over. Not friendly. Not neutral. Enemies.
Ghost kept talking. “Name’s Cutter. Prospect. Been causing problems lately.”
I hummed quietly. “Still breathing?”
“Yeah. Took off before anyone got back outside.”
Pity.
“Keep digging,” I told him.
“Already am.”
I hung up.
Emma shifted slightly in my arms. “Is he dead?”
I looked down at her. “He will be.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly. Not relief. Acceptance.
Then she whispered one quiet word. “Good.”
Not scared. Not shaken. Just certain.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Yeah. That right there was the moment I realized something dangerous. This girl wasn’t weak. Wasn’t fragile. She was stubborn. Sharp-tongued. Mean when she needed to be. Strong enough to throw a punch even when she knew it might cost her.
And I liked that about her a little too much.
Which meant one thing.
I wasn’t just helping her tonight. I was already starting to feel like she was mine.
And once that thought got into my head… there was no getting it back out.