Aurora
God, it felt like just yesterday that they took her to live at their compound. She was only a child when her father sold her to the Saints, and although no one touched her at first, they didn’t wait long to break her in. She quickly became Salis’s pet, and she hated him the most.
Salis liked her compliance, so she let him believe that she was.
He liked to believe she was broken enough not to try to run.
That was his first mistake, but every night she made plans to do just that.
She waited until his breathing deepened—until the weight of his arm slackened where it draped over her waist. The smell of alcohol was strong and sour on his breath, as he snored softly.
He was a man utterly convinced of his ownership of her.
She moved like a shadow they’d trained her to be.
At the back door, she hesitated only once—pressing her palm flat against the cold metal.
Freedom waited on the other side. So did the consequences of running.
They had been ingrained in her from the first day that the Saints took possession of her, but she was willing to risk every punishment that the Saints might pile on her for the taste of freedom.
By the time the sun rose, Renee no longer existed. She changed her name three days later. Her hair, two weeks after that. Her life became her own every single day that followed. Still—sometimes, in the darkest moments, one thought surfaced uninvited.
Aurora wished she could’ve seen the look on Salis’s face when he woke up that morning to find her gone.
He’d find the bed empty, the key missing, and the realization would hit him that the girl he thought he owned had vanished into the world without his permission.
Aurora imagined the rage and panic he’d have when he realized what had happened.
The way control would’ve slipped through his fingers like sand would have been fun to watch, but she’d never have that pleasure.
She’d never be his again, and although that thought didn’t heal her, it sustained her. Because even now, as she got ready to meet with her father, Aurora knew one thing with absolute certainty—she had already beaten them once, and she would never belong to the Saints again.
Nitro made her wait in the truck until he cleared the area.
She counted over a half dozen guys there, and a truckload of about five more guys showed up before they went in.
He introduced them as his military buddies, and she wondered if they were in the same line of work as Nitro.
He had pulled out all the stops in her protection.
Maybe he was being overly cautious, but she appreciated his protection more than he’d ever know.
Aurora recognized her father before she saw his face.
It was the way he stood with his shoulders hunched, hands clasped too tightly in front of him like a man forever bracing for the next blow.
He was smaller than she remembered, and much older.
He looked like the kind of man who looked like regret had hollowed him out and left nothing worth saving behind.
For a moment, she stayed in the shadows, not because she was afraid, but because she needed to remember that she was no longer the girl he had handed over like currency.
Nitro’s hand brushed hers—brief and grounding.
He didn’t look at her, but he didn’t need to.
He was there by her side, and that was enough.
Aurora stepped out of the shadows of the abandoned mill.
The building loomed behind her father, its windows dark and its paint peeling.
It seemed a fitting backdrop for a meeting that should never have been necessary.
Gravel crunched beneath her boots as she crossed the distance, each step measured and deliberate.
Her father looked up and nodded when he saw her. “Renee,” he breathed.
She stopped several feet away from him, not sure if she wanted to respond or not.
Aurora needed to remember that she was there to settle things with her father, and then, she’d walk away and never look back.
She needed to do this for herself, and allowing him to have the power to silence her again wasn’t part of the plan.
“That’s the name you sold me with,” she said calmly. “But it’s not my name anymore.”
He flinched. “Renee—”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “You don’t get to use any of my names. You lost that right when you gave me to the Saints.” Her voice didn’t shake, and that surprised the hell out of her.
“I didn’t know they’d hurt you like that,” he said quickly, words tumbling out like rehearsed lines. “They told me you’d be safe with them. That you would just be doing some work around the club—”
“Stop lying,” Aurora shouted.
“Aurora,” Nitro breathed, reminding her that they might not be alone.
She had almost forgotten that he was still standing by her side.
She hated that he had to hear this side of her life—all the ugly parts.
But Nitro had told her about the parts of his life that not many people knew about.
She knew that he would stand by her, the way that she had stuck by him—no questions asked.
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute. Her father sagged, his shoulders slumping. “I owed them,” he whispered. “They said they’d kill me if I didn’t find a way to pay them.”
Aurora laughed softly, a sound stripped of humor. “So you paid them with my life. I was a little girl,” she breathed.
“I knew that you’d survive,” he said, seeming more desperate now. “You were always strong.” Hearing him say that nearly broke her. She shouldn’t have had to be strong at such a young age. He should have been there to protect her at all costs, just like other father’s protected their daughters.
“You didn’t think,” she replied. “You decided my life was worth less than yours, so you traded me for your debt.”
Tears streaked down his face. “I came here to get you out.” That was laughable. Hell, maybe he believed that he was there to help pull her out of the Saints, but she didn’t need his help for that. She had found her way out all on her own.
“No,” Aurora said. “You came because they sent you to find me. They’re using you as bait.” He froze, and for a second, she wasn’t sure if she felt bad for the guy or if she wanted to laugh at him.
“I was held captive by the Saints long enough to know how they work,” she continued. “I know the way they wait for someone to let their guard down. You didn’t suddenly grow a conscience. You’re following orders.” His silence was the loudest answer of all.
Aurora felt the final thread snap—not rage, not grief, but relief. “You don’t get my forgiveness,” she said. “You won’t get me to do what you want me to do, just to save your ass again. And you don’t get to pretend you were a victim in all of this. I was.”
He dropped to his knees. “I’m your father,” he sobbed. “They’ll kill me. I had no choice.”
She looked at him, really looked, and honestly felt nothing for the man. “No,” she said quietly. “You were my jailer.” Behind her, a faint movement caught her attention, and she knew that her instincts were spot on about her father. He was working for the Saints and had set her up.
Aurora’s pulse spiked as she took a step back, getting behind Nitro, exactly as he had instructed.
“I hope they were worth it,” she said, turning away from the man who had already lost her. “Because I survived you and I survived them. I wonder if you’ll be able to say the same thing when the dust settles.”
As she walked back toward Nitro, the air shifted.
It felt charged and electric, like the moment before a storm broke.
Aurora didn’t look back. She didn’t need to.
The old man standing behind her was her past—her ugly, vindictive past. She had said everything that mattered and had the man she wanted walking right beside her, holding her hand.
And somewhere in the shadows, the men who thought they still owned her were about to learn just how wrong they were.
Aurora felt it before she saw it. The air changed—pressure building, the quiet bending inward like it was being pulled toward something ugly. Her instincts screamed at her, a full-body alarm she’d learned to trust the hard way.
She was ten steps behind Nitro when the first engine roared to life.
Not one, but three headlights flared from behind the abandoned building, washing the gravel lot in blinding white.
Tires spun as doors slammed and shapes moved where there should’ve been nothing but darkness.
The Saints had followed her father to the old mill.
They were there, and she knew that meant one thing—they wanted her back and would stop at nothing to make that happen.
She turned to find her father on his knees, terror wiping his face clean.
“I—I didn’t know they’d come now,” he shouted after her.
Aurora didn’t bother to answer him. What would she say now that she hadn’t already said to him?
Whatever happened to her father now was on him because she had wiped her hands of him.
“Nitro!” she shouted as gunfire cracked around them. It didn’t seem to be aimed at her, not yet—but into the air, as a declaration of war. Men poured out of the shadows wearing cuts she recognized instantly. The Saints’ patch burned into her vision like a brand she could still feel on her skin.
“Renee!” someone yelled. “That’s far enough!” That voice hit like a punch to her gut—Salis. Aurora stumbled, and Nitro was there to keep her from falling, grabbing her arm, yanking her hard against his chest as bullets chewed into the dirt where she’d been standing a second earlier.
“Down!” he barked. She dropped with him, gravel biting into her palms as he shielded her, his body a wall between her and the chaos.
The Saints were shouting into the air, barking orders, and spreading out like they were in their own territory.
But they hadn’t counted on one thing—her bringing back up.
They didn’t see the Iron Vipers, not yet, at least. Aurora’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might tear free from her chest. The old mill echoed with engines and boots, the Saints confident and careless—exactly like Nitro had predicted they would be.
Her father tried to run out the side entrance, and he made it three steps before a gunshot rang out, and he went down screaming, clutching his leg. She looked around to find one of Nitro’s military buddies standing behind her father, his gun still trained on him if he tried to run again.
Everything around her felt as though it had frozen for half a second, and then the night erupted into chaos.
The Iron Vipers surged from concealment, pouring out from tree lines, rooftops, and vehicles she’d never clocked on their way in.
Gunfire answered gunfire. The Saints shouted in confusion as their formation shattered, sending men diving for cover.
They no longer controlled the situation.
Aurora pressed her face into Nitro’s chest as he started to move them, fast and precise, toward the door.
He half-dragged her behind the engine block of a truck for cover.
His voice was calm in her ear, impossibly steady.
“Stay with me,” he ordered. “Just breathe. This will all be over soon.” She did as he told her to do because she trusted Nitro with everything she had.
Aurora knew that if she wanted to get out of this mess alive, she’d have to do just as he told her and let Nitro take care of the rest.
A Saint rushed their position, wild-eyed and furious.
Nitro pulled his gun from his hip holster and fired just one shot—clean and controlled.
The man dropped to the concrete floor, his body limp and lifeless.
She knew that he was dead, and Nitro wouldn’t hesitate to take out anyone else who came in her direction.
Aurora shook—not from fear alone, but from the awful clarity that this violence was happening because of her. Because of what had been done to her, and because she had chosen not to run anymore.
“Nitro,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t look at her. “Don’t do that. Not right now.” Another explosion rocked the far side of the lot—someone’s vehicle going up in a fiery blast, lighting up the night sky. Heat rolled across the night as the Saints scattered, their confidence gone, replaced with panic.
This wasn’t just a battle; it was a war zone.
Through the chaos, Aurora saw Salis. He stood near the old mill doors, tall and unmistakable, watching the fight with cold interest rather than fear.
His eyes locked on hers across the distance, and he smiled.
The sight of him turned her stomach as he raised his hand to wave at her.
His men shifted, and guns seemed to turn toward her. Nitro seemed to see it at the same moment she did. He swore and pulled her down as shots tore through the air, splintering metal and shattering glass. The Saints were regrouping, focusing, and trying to end things fast.
Aurora clutched Nitro’s jacket, her heart in her throat. This fight wasn’t over. This was the moment everything she’d survived was converging into one violent point, and whether she lived through it depended on the man holding her and the choice she’d made to stop running.
The Saints had revealed themselves. And now there was no going back.
They were going to have to stand their ground and fight this time.
There would be no more running, and Aurora just hoped like hell that Nitro had brought enough backup because Salis wasn’t going to give up the fight easily—not when she was the prize.