Nitro
He had constant reminders that she was gone.
Aurora’s things were gone. Not everything was missing.
She hadn’t wiped herself clean from his life, but she had erased enough of herself to make his entire life feel empty.
The spare toothbrush missing next to his was the biggest reminder that she was gone.
The jacket she wore when nights turned cold was missing from the hook near the front door, and the duffel bag she’d sworn she kept packed just in case was gone.
Still, his chest ached like something vital had been cut loose, so he searched anyway.
Not like a man hunting prey—but like someone checking every place he knew she visited, hoping he might find some trace of her.
He rode the back roads she liked. Checked the quiet diner outside town where she sometimes sat alone with coffee she never finished.
He asked questions carefully, never pushing, never demanding, and always got the same answer. No one had seen her.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked.
Ghost looked him over as though he had lost his mind. “You do know that it’s only eight, right?” he asked. He was well aware of how early it was, but he had a long day trying to track down Aurora, and honestly, he was exhausted.
“I’m aware,” he said. “It’s been a long fucking day,” he grumbled.
“Still no sign of her?” Ghost asked. His friend had been searching for her, too, in his spare time. Most of the guys down at the Iron Vipers were looking for her, but she was good at disappearing. He had a feeling that if Aurora didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be.
“No, and I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind,” Nitro admitted.
Ghost crossed his arms over his chest. “You want me to dig deeper?”
Nitro shook his head. “No, it would just be a waste of time. If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.”
Ghost studied him. “You’re letting her disappear, aren’t you?”
“No,” Nitro replied quietly. “I’m letting her choose.” That didn’t make any of this easier. “She’s been told what to do her entire life. She was a prisoner, and I don’t ever want her to feel that way with me.
Sure, he sounded confident with his decision, but it was killing him.
Nights were the worst. He lay awake in the bed they used to share, staring at the ceiling, replaying every conversation, every look, every moment he might’ve mistaken her calm for silent closure.
He wondered if loving her meant knowing when not to reach out.
And God help him—he did love her. Not the way men loved possessions.
He loved her the way you loved something wild and wounded and strong enough to walk away.
Still, he kept her number unsaved but memorized and even stopped reaching out to her.
He left the porch light on and stayed where he knew she could find him, if she decided she wanted to.
Some days, that felt like strength. Other days, it felt like torture.
He caught himself touching the empty space beside him at night.
Pausing mid-sentence when he remembered she wasn’t there to hear what he was saying.
He spent his nights listening for footsteps that never came until he finally fell asleep.
“She might never come back,” Ghost said gently.
“I know,” Nitro replied. “But I refuse to give up on her.”
Ghost hesitated. “You want her back anyway.”
Nitro didn’t answer right away. “Yeah,” he finally breathed.
After the first month of Aurora disappearing, he decided that the only thing he could do as more weeks passed was to go on with his life.
The world moved on around him, and he wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines waiting for her.
Missions came and went. He had even signed up for extra missions, hoping that work would take his mind off Aurora, but it didn’t.
Nitro functioned the way he always had—efficient, lethal when necessary, and calm under pressure.
But something in him waited for her. Not obsessively and not desperately. Just faithfully.
He stood on the porch each evening as dusk settled in, watching the road stretch out in front of the house like a question that hadn’t decided how to answer yet.
If she came back, he wouldn’t cage her. She had already lived that way, and he wouldn’t do that to her again.
But if she didn’t come back to him, he’d find a way to survive the pain that she had left behind.
But God—if she chose him again? Nitro exhaled slowly and let the hope stay. Because loving Aurora had taught him something he’d never learned in war, blood, or brotherhood. Sometimes, the bravest thing a man could do was leave the door open and trust that the woman he loved knew where home was.
Another two weeks had passed, and he felt as though he was losing his damn mind.
He had called off the guys from going out to look for Aurora.
There was no sense in looking for someone who didn’t want to be found.
He even exhausted his government resources, and they had turned up nothing.
She was gone, and each passing day took a little bit of his hope away.
He sank onto the sofa and popped open his beer, deciding that he’d drink himself to sleep again tonight.
It had been his go-to while trying to forget about how much he missed Aurora.
Nitro was about to turn on the television when he heard a bike pull up to the front of his house.
He wasn’t expecting any of the guys to show up tonight since they were all down at the clubhouse for church.
He had once again made up a lame excuse to get out of going, but sooner or later, Torque was going to demand he show up.
He peeked out the front door and found that the bike had rolled to a stop at the end of the driveway. He squinted to try to make out who it was but came up lacking. Until she removed her helmet and let her hair spill down her back. Aurora—it had to be her.
Aurora cut the engine and sat there. Not rushing to find him, but not running away either. She was choosing whether she wanted to stay or go, and he didn’t want to rush her decision.
Nitro stayed where he was, leaning against the porch rail, arms loose at his sides.
He didn’t want to come off as pissed off, so he didn’t cross his arms. He wouldn’t make any claims to her or push her into anything that she really didn’t want.
He just gave her the space that she needed to decide for herself.
He noticed subtle changes in her appearance.
Her hair was shorter now, and her face seemed leaner.
Her eyes steadier—but not untouched. Healing never erased everything from a painful past. The question was—had she done the healing that she needed in order to come back to him?
God, he hoped so, because letting her go again might just kill him this time.
She met his gaze across the distance. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he replied, back, trying to calm his racing heart.
That was it. There were no speeches or accusations.
No questions about where she had been and why she hadn’t called him.
Those things could come later—or never if she chose to stay.
He didn’t care about any of that now that she was there with him.
All his questions seemed to disappear, and left in their place was longing and a painful need to touch her.
Aurora dismounted her bike and walked toward him, her boots crunching softly on the gravel driveway.
He was hyperaware that she seemed timid around him—almost as though they were strangers.
Maybe they were now that she had been gone for so long, but he hoped like hell that she’d remember he’d never hurt her.
She stopped a few feet away, close enough to feel her presence but far enough to leave room for her to still make the choice to leave.
“I didn’t leave because of you,” she said as though reading his mind and picking up all the questions running through it.
“I know,” Nitro answered immediately. That seemed to surprise her. He could see in her eyes that she wasn’t expecting him to say that. Maybe she thought that he’d give her a fight or be angry with her, but that wasn’t going to happen.
“I left because I didn’t know how to stay without disappearing into someone else’s life,” she continued. “I needed to figure out who I was when no one was forcing me to be someone I wasn’t.”
“For the record, I never asked you to be someone you weren’t, honey,” Nitro breathed. “Did you figure out who you are? Is that why you’re here?” he asked.
She seemed to consider the question. “I’m closer to figuring everything out.
” She smiled at him, but he noticed that it didn’t reach her eyes.
He wasn’t sure what to say, so he waited her out, giving her time to figure out her next move.
It felt like hours, not seconds, that had passed before she spoke again.
She took a breath and let it out again. “I missed you.” Something tight loosened in his chest, hearing her say that to him.
He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he didn’t reach for her.
Not yet. He needed to hear her out completely, and then, he’d make sure that she wasn’t planning on taking off again.
“I hoped you would,” he said. “I’ve missed you, too, honey.”
Her mouth curved into a small, unsteady smile. “You’re really not going to make this hard for me, are you? I expected a fight, or maybe even your anger, but you’re not going to give me any of that, are you?” she asked.
“I can,” he said mildly, shrugging. “But I won’t.” Aurora stepped closer into his space then, not because he pulled her there, but because she chose to cross the line herself. His fucking heart felt as though it was going to beat out of his damn chest when she reached for him.
“I don’t want to disappear again,” she said quietly. “But I need to know that if I stay, it’s because you want me, not because you think that I need to be saved from something or someone.”
Nitro met her eyes. “I want you because you’re you, Aurora.
And I know that you don’t need my protection.
You never did, if I’m honest. From the beginning, I knew that you were capable of handling yourself with the Saints.
You had proven that you were good at hiding, and if they showed up, fighting.
You never needed me to protect you, but I’m so glad that you let me help when the time came.
” He couldn’t imagine Aurora facing all the Saints that had shown up to claim her at the abandoned mill all those weeks ago.
It practically took an army—the one that he had assembled, to bring down the Saints.
She searched his face, and he knew that she’d find only the truth staring back at her. “Okay,” she said. “Then I’m not afraid either. I’d like to stay, if that’s okay with you, Nitro. I’d like to stay with you,” she whispered.
This time, he reached for her. He was careful not to spook her by moving too quickly, just letting his hand settle at her waist, grounding him in place, and keeping them both steady.
She rested her forehead against his chest, breathing him in like she was reminding herself she was allowed to be there.
They didn’t kiss. Not yet, because this wasn’t about hunger.
It was about coming back to each other without losing themselves.
It was about reconnecting and forgiveness.
The door behind him creaked as the evening wind shifted.
The house stood open—unclaimed, unguarded, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to breathe.
The night air seemed sweet after weeks of feeling stale, and that had everything to do with the fact that Aurora promised to stay.
Nitro knew, without needing promises from Aurora, that some reunions weren’t about reclaiming what was lost. They were about meeting again and moving forward as the people they had become.
He just hoped like hell that Aurora felt the same way, because he wanted a future with her, and moving forward was the only way to make that happen.