7. Jade
Jade
I can’t sleep.
I lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening to the cabin settle around me. Every creak of wood, every whisper of wind against the windows, every distant sound makes my heart race.
I should be exhausted. My body certainly is—every muscle aches, bruises throbbing with each movement. But my mind won’t shut off. Won’t stop racing through scenarios and possibilities and the thousand ways this could end badly.
Voices drift up from downstairs. The men are still awake.
I throw off the covers and move to the door, pressing my ear against the wood. The voices are muffled, but I can hear the tone. It’s tense and urgent.
I ease the door open just a crack, listening harder.
“—can’t believe they fucking raided us—” That’s Hawk. His voice is tight with anger.
“When?” Shadow asks.
“Two hours ago. Full tactical team. Had warrants for everything—clubhouse, personal residences, storage units. They tore the place apart.”
“Did they find anything?”
“Enough to cause problems. Not enough to stick major charges. Yet.” A pause. “But they’ve got forensics now. They’re building a case.”
My stomach clenches. Forensics means evidence. Evidence means trials. Trials mean witnesses.
Witnesses like me.
“What about the prospect?” Razor’s voice, dark and flat.
“Ruthless Saints grabbed him yesterday afternoon around three. Took him to one of their safe houses.”
“And?”
“Tortured him.” Hawk’s voice drops. “They wanted to know everything about the gun deal. Who set it up, who was supposed to be there, what went wrong?”
“Did he talk?”
“Eventually. Everyone talks.” A bitter laugh. “They broke his ribs one by one. Shattered his kneecap with a hammer. Started cutting off fingers when he tried to hold out.”
Bile rises in my throat. I press my hand against my mouth, fighting nausea.
“How many fingers?” Shadow asks.
“Three. Before he gave them everything.”
“Is he alive?”
“Barely. They dumped him at the ER this morning. Critical condition. If he survives, he’ll give the Feds everything to save himself. Names, locations, and the meet at the gas station.” Another pause. “He knows about the witness.”
My blood turns to ice.
“How much does he know?” Razor asks.
“That I grabbed someone. A woman. That we took her with us when we scattered.” Hawk’s voice is grim. “He doesn’t know where we are. But he knows she exists.”
“Which means the Feds know.”
“And the Ruthless Saints.”
Silence. Heavy, terrible silence.
I’m shaking now. I can’t stop. They know about me. Both sides know about me. The men who tortured someone know I exist.
“This is war now,” Hawk continues. “Official. Ruthless Saints are claiming we tried to set them up with the Feds. Our guys think they’re the ones who tipped off the ATF in the first place.”
“Were they?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Either way, blood’s been spilled. Lines are drawn. The prospect who got tortured? He’s got family in our club. His brother’s calling for retaliation.”
“Reaper approve?”
“What do you think? We’ve got three trucks heading to Ruthless Saints territory tonight. This ends bloody.”
I press closer to the door, heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my temples. This is so much worse than I thought. This isn’t just about me witnessing a gun deal. This is about war.
I’m caught in the middle of something that’s going to get people killed.
Maybe including me.
“Reaper wants an update,” Hawk says. “I need to call him back. Tell him where we stand.”
“What are you going to say?”
“The truth. We’ve got the witness secured. No one’s found this location yet. We’re keeping her contained until we figure out next moves.”
The sound of a phone dialing. Then ringing.
A voice answers. Tinny and distant, but clear enough through the phone speaker.
“It’s me,” Hawk says. “We’re secure. No one followed us. She’s contained. No phones, no contact with anyone except that one supervised call to her sister.”
“Which was a fucking stupid risk.” The voice on the phone is sharp. Angry. “You let her make contact with the outside world?”
“Shadow thought it was smart to give her something. Keep her cooperative.”
“Shadow thinks with his dick, not his brain. You know better, Hawk.”
“It was supervised. She said exactly what we told her to say. Her sister doesn’t suspect anything.”
“Yet. When she doesn’t show up to collect her kid, the sister’s going to call the cops. Then the Feds connect those dots, and suddenly they know exactly who their mystery witness is.”
Fuck. I didn’t think about that. Linda will call the police when I don’t come for Mason. And then?—
“We’ll handle it before that happens,” Hawk says.
“How?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Work faster. What about the girl?”
My hands are shaking. I press them flat against the door.
Silence. Long, terrible silence that stretches on and on.
Then Hawk’s voice, carefully controlled: “What about her?”
“You know what about her. She’s a liability. A witness to a federal weapons sting who can identify all of you, testify about what she saw, and put the entire club in prison for the next twenty years. You really need me to spell this out?”
“She’s a civilian. She didn’t ask to see what she saw.”
“Don’t care. She’s a loose end. You know what we do with loose ends.”
The words hang in the air like a death sentence.
“You’re serious?” Hawk’s voice drops lower. “Eliminate her?”
“What did you think was going to happen? We give her a new identity and a pat on the ass? Hope she doesn’t decide to collect that federal witness money and burn us all?
” The voice on the phone is cold. Flat. “She’s a witness and a liability.
You know the rules, Hawk. Loose ends get cut.
That’s how we survive. That’s how we’ve always survived. ”
My legs go weak. I slide down to sit on the floor, back against the door, trying to breathe through the terror clawing at my chest.
They’re going to kill me.
“Reaper, she’s got a kid.” Hawk’s voice has an edge to it now. “Four years old. You want that on your conscience?”
“My conscience is clean. I didn’t kidnap her. You did. That was your call, not mine. Now you deal with the consequences.”
“There has to be another way.” Shadow this time, voice urgent. “We can hide her. Relocate her. Give her a new identity. We’ve done it before.”
“With club members. With family. With people who understand the code and know what happens if they break it.” The voice on the phone is firm.
Final. “Not with outsiders who can put us all in federal prison. You’re asking every member of this club to trust a stranger not to save herself by giving us up the second the pressure’s on. ”
“She won’t talk,” Shadow insists. “She just wants to go home to her kid. Let her go, and she’ll disappear. She won’t risk bringing heat down on herself.”
“You willing to bet your freedom on that? Your life?” A pause. “Because that’s what you’re asking. All of us to stake everything on the word of a woman we’ve known for one day.”
Silence.
“She won’t talk because she’ll be dead.” Razor’s voice cuts through, flat and cold. “Problem solved.”
“Jesus Christ, Razor—” Shadow starts.
“What? You want to be the one explaining to the Feds why we kidnapped a witness? You want to be the one in prison for the next thirty years?” Razor’s tone doesn’t change.
Still flat. Still reasonable. Which somehow makes it worse.
“Or we find out what she knows and who she’ll talk to before we make any permanent decisions. ”
“How?” Shadow asks, but I can hear the dread in his voice. He knows the answer.
“The usual ways.”
Torture. He’s talking about torture. Six hours of broken ribs and shattered kneecaps and fingers cut off one by one until I tell them everything they want to know.
I’m going to be sick.
“No.” Hawk’s voice cuts through, sharp and absolute. “We’re not doing that.”
“Then what are we doing?” Razor asks. “Because Reaper just gave an order. You planning to disobey a direct order from the club president?”
“I’m planning to find a third option.”
“There is no third option. Either we eliminate the witness, or we don’t. Either we follow club protocol, or we go rogue.” Razor’s voice is quiet. Patient. Like he’s explaining a concept to a child. “You’ve got to pick one, Hawk. Can’t have it both ways.”
“I need time.”
“You’ve got twenty-four hours.” The voice on the phone. “After that, if she’s still breathing, you’re all in violation of direct orders. And you know what that means.”
The threat hangs in the air. Violation of direct orders. In a motorcycle club, that’s treason. That’s getting your patch pulled, getting beaten, getting?—
“Understood,” Hawk says, but his voice is tight.
The call ends. The sudden silence is deafening.
“Fuck.” Shadow’s voice breaks the quiet.
“Yeah.” Hawk.
“So what now?” Razor asks.
“Now we figure out how to keep her alive without getting ourselves killed in the process,” Hawk says.
Shadow scoffs. “Any brilliant ideas?”
“Working on it.”
“Work faster. Clock’s ticking.”
Footsteps. Someone moving.
I jerk back from the door, scrambling to my feet, heart racing so hard I think it might burst out of my chest.
They’re going to kill me.
In twenty-four hours, if Hawk doesn’t find a “third option,” they’re going to eliminate me. And even if he does find something, even if he manages to convince his club president, there’s no guarantee it’ll work.
There’s no guarantee any of them actually want to save me.
Maybe the argument was for show. Maybe they’re just deciding the cleanest way to do it.
I back away from the door, my breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. The room feels too small suddenly. The walls are too close. I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
Mason. I have to get back to my son.
My eyes land on the kitchen knife I stole earlier, hidden under the mattress. I grab it, the metal cold and heavy in my hand.
Not much of a weapon against three armed men. But it’s better than nothing.