Chapter 8 - Judge
The sharp sting of a needle pierces my arm, and I try to protest, try to tell Saint I don't need whatever the fuck he's about to pump into me, but my mouth won't cooperate. Words come out slurred, meaningless.
"Easy," Saint says somewhere above me. "Just painkillers and something to help you sleep. You need rest, Judge. Real rest. Not the kind where you wake up swinging every hour."
I want to argue. Want to tell him I need to stay awake, need to watch over Nora and Grace, and need to make sure the Vipers don't come back. But Nora's hand is warm in mine, her fingers gentle around my battered knuckles, and that simple touch is enough.
It makes me want to hold on. Makes me want to resist the pull of whatever drug Saint just gave me long enough to tell her… To tell her what? That I'd do it again? That those broken ribs and dislocated shoulder were worth it? That I'd take a hundred beatings if it meant keeping her and Grace safe?
But the words won't come. The world is getting fuzzy around the edges, soft and distant, and the last thing I feel before I go under is Nora's hand holding mine.
Like an anchor.
Like something worth waking up for.
Days later…
When I open my eyes, everything hurts.
Not the screaming agony from before, but a dull, persistent ache that radiates through my entire body.
My ribs throb with every breath. My shoulder feels stiff, immobile, wrapped in something that keeps my arm pinned against my chest. My face…
Christ, my face feels like I went ten rounds with a concrete wall.
I blink slowly, trying to orient myself. The medical room. I'm still in the medical room. Dim lighting. The smell of antiseptic and something else, coffee, maybe. How long was I—
Movement in the corner catches my eye.
Nora and Grace.
They're on the small couch pushed against the wall, both of them asleep. Grace is curled into her mother's side. Nora's head is tilted back against the wall, one arm around Grace, the other hand resting on her daughter's shoulder.
They look beautiful.
Nora's face is softer in sleep, the worry lines smoothed away. Grace's mouth is slightly open, completely peaceful.
Fuck. I want this.
I want to wake up and see them every morning. Want to be the one they turn to when they're scared. Want to be the wall between them and everything terrible in the world.
I want to be part of their family.
Family. Grace said it so easily, like it was obvious. Like the three of us together made sense. And maybe to a five-year-old it does. She doesn't understand the complications, the age gap, the fact that I'm a biker in the middle of a war and Nora's a single mom running from her own demons.
But fuck if I don't want it anyway.
I was willing to die for them. Took that beating knowing it might kill me, knowing those ribs could puncture something vital, knowing I might never wake up. And I'd do it again. I'd do it a hundred times if it meant they stayed safe.
If I'd died, I would've regretted nothing except not telling Nora, not showing her, how much they both mean to me.
"You're awake."
Saint's voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn my head slowly, because everything still hurts like a bitch, and find him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, that professionally neutral expression he wears when he's assessing patients.
"How long?" My voice is rough, barely above a whisper.
"Two days." Saint walks into the room, keeping his voice low so he doesn't wake Nora and Grace. "You've been out for two full days. The drugs I gave you were strong, but you needed it. Your body needed time to start healing without you trying to get up and do something stupid."
"Two days?" I try to sit up. Pain shoots through my ribs and I bite back a curse.
"Easy." Saint's hand is on my good shoulder, pressing me back down.
"You've got two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder that I had to reduce, severe bruising across your torso and face, and a mild concussion.
You're lucky they didn't rupture anything internal.
So yes, two days of medically induced sleep was necessary. "
"Grace and Nora—"
"Have been here the entire time. Well, not the entire time.
They ate with the club, explored the compound.
Canvas made them his famous chili. Brick taught Grace poker with candy.
But Grace insisted on being here when you woke up.
" Saint glances at the couch. "Kid's stubborn. Wouldn't take no for an answer."
“She okay?"
"She's fine. Brave as hell, actually. Asked me about a hundred questions about medical procedures. Her mother translated" Saint's expression softens slightly. "She's a good kid."
"Yeah. She is."
"Now. Try sitting up. Slowly. Let's see how your body's handling movement."
I push myself up, gritting my teeth against the pain. My ribs scream, my shoulder protests, but I manage to get vertical without passing out. Progress.
Grace stirs on the couch. Her eyes open slowly, bleary and confused. Then she sees me sitting up, and her whole face lights up.
She's off the couch and running toward me before Nora even wakes up.
"Judge!" She doesn't sign it.
Her hands are reaching for me, wrapping around my middle in a hug that makes my ribs howl but I don't care. I wrap my good arm around her, holding her close.
When she pulls back, she raises her voice. "You're awake! You're okay! I knew you would be! I told Mama you'd be okay because you promised and you keep your promises!"
I sign back, my hand movements slower than usual. "Of course I am. I told you I'd be fine."
"It's been two whole days! Saint said you needed to sleep to heal but two days is a very long time and I was worried you'd sleep forever like Sleeping Beauty but without the kiss to wake you up."
Despite everything, the pain, the exhaustion, the way my body feels like it's been through a wood chipper, I smile. "No kiss needed. Just good healing."
Nora's awake now. She's sitting up on the couch, one hand pressed to her mouth. Grace turns to her mother, signing triumphantly. "See, Mama? I told you! Judge keeps his promises!"
A tear falls down Nora's cheek. Grace doesn't see it. She's already turned back to me, asking if I'm hungry, if I want water, if my ribs still hurt a lot, but I see it. See the way Nora's trying to hold herself together and failing.
Saint must see it too because he crouches down next to Grace, getting her attention.
"Hey, Grace. Want to see something cool?" He says and I sign it for him.
Grace looks at him suspiciously. "What?"
"The secret chocolate hiding spot. Every club has one. But you can't tell anyone where it is. Top secret."
Grace's eyes go wide. She looks at her mother. "Can I go, Mama? Can I see the secret chocolate?"
Nora wipes her eyes quickly, nods and signs. "Yes, baby. Go with Saint."
Grace throws her arms around my neck one more time. I bite back a groan at the pressure on my ribs before she follows Saint to the door.
Saint pauses in the doorway, looks back at us with a knowing expression.
"Behave, you two." Then he winks. "But if you don't want to behave, I'll make sure Grace takes an hour to get back."
The door closes behind them.
Silence.
Nora and I stare at each other across the room. She's still on the couch, arms wrapped around herself. I'm sitting on the edge of the medical table, barely upright, feeling like I got hit by a truck.
"I'm sorry," I say. "About Saint. He's—"
"Don't." Nora laughs softly, wiping at her eyes again. "Don't apologize for him. I'm just glad we can joke around now instead of me sitting here terrified you were going to die."
"I wasn't going to die."
"You don't know that. You were barely conscious when they brought you in. You've been unconscious for two days." Her voice breaks. "I thought…"
She doesn't finish. Just stands and walks over to me. Slowly. Like she's not sure if she's allowed.
I shift over slightly on the table, making room. "Sit with me?"
She hesitates. "Your ribs—"
"Are fine. Well, not fine. But they'll hurt whether you're sitting next to me or not. Might as well hurt with you close."
Nora moves to the small couch in the corner instead. I follow, sliding off the table with a grunt of pain, crossing the short distance on unsteady legs. My body protests every movement, but I make it to the couch and lower myself down beside her.
Close enough that our thighs touch.
"Did you really spend the last two days here?" I ask.
"Grace wanted to be here when you woke up." Nora's voice is soft. "She insisted. Said she needed to make sure you were okay because you're part of our family now and family doesn't leave each other."
My chest tightens. "Grace said that?"
"She did. And I—" Nora's voice breaks. "I didn't correct her. I should have. Should have told her that you're just helping us, that you have your own life, that we can't expect you to—"
"But you didn't."
"No. I didn't." She looks down at her hands. "Because I wanted it to be true too. Because when I think about leaving here, about you not being there, it hurts. And that's insane. We've known each other for two days. Two days, Judge. I have no right to feel—" She stops. Swallows hard.
I reach over with my good hand, cover hers. "To feel what?"
"Like you're mine to keep."
Fuck.
The way she says it, vulnerable and terrified, does something to me. It makes that hole in my chest crack wide open.
"I can never repay you for what you did," Nora whispers. "Taking that beating. Protecting us. Keeping us safe. I don't know how to—"
"You don't have to repay me anything. I told you, I'd do it again. I'd do it a hundred times." I turn my hand over, lacing my fingers through hers. "When you choose to protect a whole town, you can't decide who to protect. It's either everyone or no one."
"Is that all we are? Part of everyone?"
I could lie. Could tell her yes, that she's just another civilian under Iron Phoenix protection, that what I feel is purely professional. But I almost died. And if I had, I would've regretted not telling her the truth.
"No," I say. "You're not just part of everyone. You're more than that. Both of you."
She places her other hand on top of mine. "You're my knight in shining armor. You know that?"
I huff a laugh. It hurts. "Pretty sure knights don't wear leather jackets."
"You're a very modern knight."
We both laugh, and Christ, I've never had a moment like this with anyone. Never felt this rightness. Like every terrible thing I've been through was worth it to get here. To this moment. To her.
Her lips are right there. Soft and slightly parted.
I'm probably fucking this up. Probably misreading everything. She's vulnerable, grateful, caught up in the moment—
But I almost died.
And I can't let her walk away without showing her how much she means to me.
My hand comes up, cupping her cheek. She doesn't pull away. Doesn't flinch. Just leans into the touch, her eyes falling closed for a brief second.
I move forward. Slowly. Giving her time to stop me.
She doesn't.
Our lips meet.
And fuck.
It's incredible. Her lips are soft, warm and she tastes like vanilla, sweet and perfect. She makes this small sound in the back of her throat, and her hands come up to my chest, careful of my injuries, her fingers curling into the front of my shirt.
My ribs are screaming, but I don't care. I'm about to apologize, to tell her I shouldn't have done that, when she speaks.
"I'm glad you did that," she whispers. "Because if you hadn't, I was going to have to make the first move. And I wasn't sure if I was brave enough."
I stare at her. "You were thinking about kissing me?"
"Of course I was. I'm not made of iron, Judge." Her cheeks flush. "You protected me and my daughter. You took a beating for us. You've been nothing but kind, strong and… And I'm attracted to you. Very attracted to you."
"I don't want you to feel like you owe me—"
"I don't." She looks up, meeting my eyes firmly. "I don't feel like I owe you. I feel like I want you. There's a difference."
Something in her expression shifts. Becomes heated. Her eyes drop from my face down to—
Fuck.
I follow her gaze. To the very obvious bulge in my jeans. I'm hard. Rock fucking hard, straining against the denim.
"I'm glad to see your body's still working," Nora says. Her hand moves from my chest, trailing down. Lower. "And since we have an hour..."
She slides off the couch. Onto her knees between my legs.
My brain short-circuits.
"Nora—"
"I want to show you how thankful I am," she says, her hands moving to my belt. "For everything. For protecting us. For being you." She looks up at me, and the heat in her eyes could burn me alive. "For making me feel seen."
"You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to." Her fingers work my belt buckle, confident despite the slight tremor. "I want to. I've wanted to since I watched you stand in front of my house waiting to protect us."
My belt comes undone. She pops the button on my jeans. Lowers the zipper. And fuck, I should stop this. Should tell her we're moving too fast—
Her hand wraps around my cock through my boxers and every thought evaporates.
"Christ," I hiss. My head falls back against the couch.
"Still want me to stop?" Nora asks. There's a smile in her voice.
"No. Fuck no."
She pulls my cock free, and, damn it, I'm already leaking, the head flushed and desperate. Her hand wraps around me properly now, stroking once, twice, and I have to bite back a groan.
"You're beautiful," she whispers. Then she leans forward and takes me into her mouth.