14. Jade
Jade
I haven’t slept.
The storm passed sometime during the night, leaving everything washed clean and sharp. The sky is that brilliant blue that only happens after heavy rain, and sunlight streams through the cabin windows in a way that feels almost offensive given everything that’s happened in the past five days.
Five days since I ran from Tyler. Five days since my life exploded.
Feels like five years.
I’m up before dawn, too anxious to sleep. Today I see Mason. Today Hawk drives me two hours north to the safe house where my son is waiting.
Today I hold my baby again.
The thought makes my chest tight with something between relief and terror. Relief because he’s safe. Terror because I have to leave him again before this is over.
Hawk’s already in the kitchen when I come downstairs. He’s got coffee brewing, and he’s studying a map spread out on the table, tracing routes with his finger.
“Morning,” he says without looking up.
“Morning.” I pour myself coffee and wrap my hands around the mug for warmth. “What time do we leave?”
“Thirty minutes. I want to be there by eight, back here by noon.” He finally looks up at me. “You ready?”
Am I ready to see my son after five days of hell? Am I ready to explain to Linda why I’m traveling with a man in a Satan’s Reapers cut? Am I ready to hug Mason and then leave him again?
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m ready.”
Hawk studies me for a moment, then nods and goes back to his map.
Twenty minutes later, we’re on his bike heading north. The air’s cold enough to sting my face, but the sun’s warm on my back, and the roads are clear. Hawk drives fast but controlled, leaning into curves with the kind of confidence that comes from thousands of miles on two wheels.
I hold on to him because I have to, arms wrapped around his waist, pressed against his back. I can feel the heat of him through his jacket, feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, feel every shift of muscle as he navigates the road.
It should feel impersonal. Mechanical. Just transportation.
It doesn’t.
I’m hyper-aware of every point of contact. My thighs pressed against his. My hands locked together over his stomach. My chest against his back with every breath syncing us together.
I try to focus on the scenery instead. The trees rushing past. The mountains in the distance. The small towns we pass through, with their quiet main streets and shuttered storefronts.
Anything but the man I’m holding on to like my life depends on it.
We arrive at the safe house at eight fifteen. It’s a small cabin tucked into the woods, isolated and surrounded by pine trees. There’s a car parked outside that I don’t recognize, and Viper’s Harley next to it.
Hawk cuts the engine, and I climb off, legs shaky from two hours of riding.
The front door opens before we can knock.
And there he is.
Mason.
My son.
He sees me, and his whole face lights up. “MAMA!”
He barrels down the porch steps and crashes into me so hard I stumble back. I drop to my knees and wrap my arms around him, breathing in the smell of his hair, feeling his small body solid and real against mine.
He’s safe. He’s here. He’s okay.
“Mama, Mama, Mama,” he’s saying over and over, his face buried in my neck. “I missed you so much. Where were you? Why didn’t you come get me?”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” I’m crying, and I don’t care. “But you’re safe now. That’s what matters.”
Linda appears in the doorway, arms crossed. She looks exhausted, angry, and relieved all at once.
“Jade.” Her voice is tight.
I stand, keeping Mason attached to me like a barnacle. I lift him and he wraps his legs around my waist even though he’s really too big for this now.
“Linda.” I meet her eyes. “Thank you for keeping him safe.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She looks past me to where Hawk’s standing by his bike, watching. Her eyes narrow when she sees his cut, the Satan’s Reapers patch clear in the morning light. “We need to talk. Inside. Now.” She disappears back into the cabin.
I look at Hawk. He nods once, and I carry Mason inside.
The cabin’s small but clean. One main room with a kitchenette, a couple of doors leading to what I assume are bedrooms, and a bathroom. Viper’s sitting at the table drinking coffee. She’s maybe thirty, with short dark hair and sharp eyes, wearing jeans and a leather jacket.
“Jade,” she says with a nod.
“Viper. Thank you for getting them here safely.”
“No problem.” She stands. “I’ll give you some space.”
She heads outside, probably to talk to Hawk.
Linda waits until the door closes. Then: “What the hell is going on, Jade?”
Mason’s still clinging to me, but he’s quiet now, listening.
“Can we talk privately?” I ask, glancing at him.
Linda’s jaw tightens, but she nods. “Mason, honey, why don’t you go play with your dinosaurs in the bedroom? Mama and I need to have a grown-up talk.”
“But I just got Mama back,” Mason protests.
“I know, sweetie. Just for a few minutes, then you can have Mama all to yourself. I promise.”
He looks between us, then reluctantly slides down from my arms. “You won’t leave?”
“I won’t leave,” I promise. “Not yet.”
He heads into the bedroom with Spike clutched in one hand. The door closes.
Linda rounds on me immediately. “Five days, Jade. Five days of not knowing if you were alive or dead. Five days of Tyler’s people showing up at my house, threatening my nephew, and making me run to a neighbor’s house in fear.
And now you show up with a biker from Satan’s Reapers? What the actual fuck?”
“I know. I know it’s been hell, and I’m sorry?—”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I need answers.” She steps closer, voice dropping. “Are you in deeper than you were with Tyler? Because that man outside looks dangerous, Jade. More dangerous than Tyler ever was.”
“He is dangerous,” I admit. “But not to me. Not to Mason.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I trust him.”
The words come out before I can stop them, and they’re true. Somewhere between Friday night and now, I started trusting Hawk. Started believing he means what he says when he promises to keep me safe.
Linda stares at me. “You trust him. A man you’ve known for what, a week?”
“Five days.” I meet her eyes. “And yes. I trust him more than I ever trusted Tyler.”
“That’s not saying much.”
“No, it’s not.” I take a breath. “Linda, I can’t tell you everything.
But here’s what I can say: Tyler’s dangerous.
More dangerous than you know. He’s involved in illegal activities, and he’s hunting me because I know too much.
The people I’m with—Hawk and the others—they’re helping me disappear for good.
New identity, new life, far away from here. ”
“And Mason?”
“He comes with me. Once this is over, we both disappear. Tyler never finds us. We start fresh.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “How long?”
“How long what?”
“How long until this is over? Until you can take Mason and leave?”
“I don’t know. Soon. Maybe a week. Maybe less.”
“And what happens to me?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“When you disappear with Mason, where does that leave me? I’m his aunt, Jade. I’ve been part of his life since he was born. And you’re just going to vanish, and I’ll never see him again?”
Guilt twists in my stomach. I hadn’t thought about that. Hadn’t thought about what my disappearance would cost Linda.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“Well, figure it out.” Her voice breaks. “Because I love that kid. And losing both of you—” She stops, wipes her eyes. “Just figure it out.”
Mason’s voice calls from the bedroom. “Mama? Can you come read to me now?”
“Yeah, baby. I’m coming.”
I look at Linda. She nods once, then turns away.
I spend the next two hours with Mason. We read his favorite dinosaur books three times. I hold him while he tells me about the cabin and Viper and how Jerry’s dog can do tricks.
“Is that man outside nice?” Mason asks suddenly. “The one with the motorcycle?”
I glance out the window. Hawk’s leaning against his bike, talking to Viper. “You saw him?”
“Yeah. When we got here yesterday. He looks scary.”
“He’s not scary. Not to us.” I brush Mason’s hair back. “He’s… he’s going to help us, baby. Help us get somewhere safe where mean Daddy can never find us.”
“Is he nice?”
I think about Hawk catching me when I collapsed. About him holding me while I sobbed. About the way he looks at me sometimes, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle he can’t solve.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “He’s nice.”
Mason seems satisfied with that. He goes back to making his dinosaurs fight.
When it’s time to leave, saying goodbye breaks my heart all over again. Mason cries, clings, and begs me not to go.
“I have to, baby. Just for a little bit longer. But I’m coming back. I promise I’m coming back and we’re going to go somewhere new and fun and Daddy will never bother us again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Linda takes him gently. “Come on, Mason. Let’s make lunch. Mama will be back soon.”
I kiss his forehead one more time, breathing in his little-boy smell. Then I force myself to walk out the door before I change my mind and refuse to leave.
Hawk’s waiting by the bike. Viper’s already gone.
“You good?” he asks.
“No.” I wipe my eyes. “But let’s go anyway.”
The ride back is different.
I’m silent for the first hour, processing everything. Seeing Mason. Promising him a future I’m not sure I can deliver. Leaving him again, even though every instinct screams to stay.
But somewhere around the hour mark, something shifts.
I can’t go back to who I was. Tyler’s made sure of that. The woman who let herself be controlled and manipulated and hurt because she was afraid—that woman doesn’t exist anymore.
Maybe she never really existed. Maybe she was just a survival strategy.
And maybe I don’t want to be her again.
“I can’t go back to who I was,” I say out loud.
Hawk doesn’t respond immediately. We ride for another mile before he slows down and pulls off onto a forest service road. The bike rumbles to a stop. He cuts the engine, and the sudden silence is loud.
“What did you say?” he asks, turning to look at me.