Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
Jersey
I watch Icer out of my peripheral vision, wishing he’d give me a second of his time so I could explain to him why I latched onto him the way I did back then.
The silence between us is a jagged, uncomfortable thing, a far cry from the quiet strength I used to draw from his presence when the world outside my hiding spots felt too loud.
He’s so focused on the kids, his movements with Elodie and the baby carrier surprisingly gentle.
I want to tell him that his silence wasn’t a burden to me back then, it was soothing. Comfortable.
Every time he steps around me or fixes me with that cold, blue, icy gaze, it feels like a dismissal of the girl who once saw him as her only source of relief.
I want to explain that I didn't mean to be a nuisance, that I was just a child looking for a white knight who wouldn’t weave lies like my parents did.
But the words get stuck in my throat, crowded out by the fear that he only sees the jumpy, broken version of me that still wants to scramble into a dark abyss of nothingness.
I need him to know that I’m trying to be brave, but it's hard when my history feels like a constant reminder of how bad caregivers can be.
Watching him with Boston and Carolina, I see the protector I once knew, but now that protection isn’t aimed at me.
Not that it ever really was considering we weren’t friends.
It hurts more than I’m willing to admit, feeling like an interloper in a family dynamic I’m supposed to be helping build.
I wish I could bridge the gap, to show him that the soft woman standing here today is the same one who once trusted him with her life, whether he knew that or not.
But for now, I’m just an observer to his patience, praying that one day he’ll stop looking through me and start seeing me so we can have an adult conversation and clear the air.
Icer tracks me with a side-eyed glare, his focus locked on the perimeter of the fortress he’s erected between us.
That look is a physical barricade, a silent warning for me to keep my distance from the peace he’s found.
Even as he radiates a jagged tenderness for the little ones in his care, those internal walls remain absolute.
Slayer claims it’s just a lack of knowing how to navigate my world, but to me, his coldness is a sharp rejection of a history I carry alone.
It’s a one-sided memory, mine and not his, that still lurks in the corners of my mind.
“You need to talk to Letti,” Slayer suggests, his voice pulling me back from the edge of my own dark thoughts. “She’s the only one that can get through to him.”
A soft smile tugs at my lips at the mention of Letti.
That woman is a warrior in every sense of the word, her resilience after the horrific brutality she endured is a testament to her unbreakable spirit.
She navigated a living nightmare and emerged with an internal fire that even Icer’s frozen exterior couldn’t extinguish.
If anyone understands the crushing weight of a traumatic history and the desperate need for a silent guardian to finally find his voice, it’s her.
Maybe Slayer is right, maybe she’s the only bridge capable of spanning the chasm between the ghost of the girl I was and the woman I’m struggling to become within these gates.
If there’s a single soul who can convince Icer to lower his guard and hear me out, it’s Letti.
She’s his entire world, his absolute everything, and the only person capable of keeping him grounded and sane.
“I’ll talk to her the next time I see her,” I promise.
I say the words with a conviction I don’t entirely feel, but seeing the way Slayer looks at me makes me want to be that version of myself—the one who doesn't shy away from the hard conversations. Maybe I should start with him, because he knows there’s a reason but he doesn’t know the why behind it.
“Good,” he says, giving me one of his blinding, encouraging smiles. It’s the kind of smile that makes me believe, if only for a second, that everything is going to be alright.
Carolina catches a flash of sapphire up in the branches and lets out a high-pitched squeal of delight, and before I know it, Icer is breaking down the history of the bird for the girls.
He speaks in that gravelly, low rumble of his, a voice that commands every ounce of your attention without ever needing to bark.
It’s a side of the club’s most lethal enforcer that only a lucky few ever get to witness—a deep well of quiet knowledge hidden behind a wall of stone and serrated scars.
As he explains the bird’s migratory patterns and its fierce, territorial streak, Boston leans in, his face a study in unfiltered wonder.
Carolina’s exuberant noise settles into a captivated silence, her wide eyes tracking the vibrant blue feathers against the canopy of the landscape as she hangs on every single word Icer offers.
In this small moment, the looming shadow of the Dragons and the heavy weight of the club’s expectations seem to melt away, replaced by a simple lesson in nature from a man who understands more about protection and territory than any handbook could ever teach.
I watch them from the corner of my eye, my heart swelling at the unexpected tenderness of it all, realizing that even in a world defined by brutality, there’s still room for a little bit of magic and a hell of a lot of heart.
Clearing my throat, I manage to snag Slayer’s attention, voicing the heavy question that’s been running rampant in my mind.
It’s the one shadow that won’t quit, the persistent danger lurking just outside our gates.
“The Dragons,” I whisper, my tone tight with nerves.
“What’s the real story with those assholes, and is there any light at the end of the tunnel for finally putting an end to their threat? ”
“We're working on it, babe. I can't tell you much, club business is sacred between the men. We don't share because it puts a target on our women's heads, but what I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty, is that they’ll never touch you... any of you,” he promises. He reaches out, his thumb tracing a soothing path over the back of my hand, a silent vow reinforcing his spoken one. “The Kings have a long reach and even longer memories. Those Dragon fuckers think they’re ghosts, but every ghost leaves a trail. We’re just waiting for them to trip over their own shadows.” His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, soften as they hold mine, offering a glimpse of the fierce protectiveness that defines him. “You, Boston, Carolina... you’re under the protection of the club now. That means you’re untouchable.
I’ll burn this whole state to the ground before I let one of those low-life’s breathe the same air as you. ”
“Wow,” I whisper, the weight of his words hitting me like none other have before.
I look over at Boston and Carolina, who are still captivated by the sapphire flash of the bird in the trees, blissfully unaware of the storm Slayer is promising to keep at bay.
The intensity in his gaze makes me believe him—that he really would lay waste to everything to keep this small patch of peace intact.
For someone who has spent her life looking for nooks and crannies to melt into, the idea of being “untouchable” because of a man's devotion is a concept that makes my heart flutter with a terrifying, beautiful hope.
“Trust me, trust us,” he pleads. “We’ve covered all of our bases, Jersey. If the war comes to us like we’re suspecting it will, we’ll be ready. You remember where all of the safe rooms are, right?”
I nod, the layout of the compound flashing through my mind like a tactical map.
I’ve memorized every heavy-duty door and reinforced wall, not because I enjoy the thought of needing them, but because being prepared is the only way I can keep the panic from swallowing me whole.
Seeing the way the brothers have turned this place into a fortress gives me a measure of peace, but it’s Slayer’s unwavering presence that truly makes me feel secure.
He isn’t just giving me a place to stay, he's giving me a reason to stop looking over my shoulder.
“I do trust you,” I assure him, my voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I reach out, my fingers briefly brushing against the rough denim of his sleeve, reminding myself that he’s here with me.
Then, I gesture toward the edge of the clearing where the youngest members of our family are currently kneeling in the dirt, their faces alight with discovery.
“It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s them.
” I watch Boston and Carolina as they share a quiet moment of wonder over a wildflower, their innocence so sharp it feels like a physical weight in my chest. “They don’t understand the blood and the history that built these walls, they only know the kindness we show them.
Protecting that purity from the storm the Dragons are brewing is the only thing that matters now. ”
“Fuck, Jersey. Could you be any more perfect?”
His words hit me like a physical blow, the weight of the compliment staggering me.
I’ve never been called perfect before, in the life I lived with my parents, that term was only for the dolls my mother collected or the fake reputations they maintained while they all but checked out on their only kid.
Hearing it now has my skin prickling with heat and a heavy dose of disbelief.
I’m not sure how to process it, especially when I feel so damn fractured and held together by nothing but sheer willpower and the desperate hope that I don’t fail the two people relying on me.
I shift my gaze back to Boston and Carolina, needing to ground my thoughts in their pure joy so I don’t spiral from the intensity burning in Slayer’s eyes.
To a man like him, maybe my willingness to be their protector looks like perfection, but to me, it just feels like the first time I’ve actually done something that matters.
I want to tell him I’m a long way from perfect, that I still have nightmares about those scald marks and the predators who let their hands roam, but the silence of the woods is too damn peaceful to ruin with the wreckage of my history.
Instead, I just stand there, letting the word settle over me and wondering if I can ever truly be the woman he sees.
That night, Slayer stayed for dinner, filling the small space of my trailer with a presence that was both grounding and overwhelming.
We crowded around the tiny dining room table, our knees occasionally brushing in the cramped quarters, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel the urge to retreat into a corner.
The simple banter flowing between Boston, Carolina, and Slayer created a symphony of normalcy that left me feeling more complete than any academic achievement ever had.
I watched as Slayer patiently helped Carolina navigate her plate, his large, scarred hands moving with a gentleness that seemed to baffle and soothe her all at once.
I was no longer a bystander watching life from the sidelines.
As Boston recounted his discovery of the “blue birds” with a wide-eyed enthusiasm that had us all grinning, the isolation of my childhood felt like a fading nightmare.
Sitting there, sharing a meal I had prepared with my own hands for people who truly saw me, I realized that the crevices I once called home could never compare to the refuge we were building right here.
Slayer, catching the way I’m spiraling into my own head, leans in, his shoulder brushing against mine in a way that sends a jolt of heat through my veins. The sheer proximity of him is both a comfort and a mind-boggling distraction. “You alright there, Jersey girl?”
“Yes,” I reply, my head bobbing as I try to find my center amidst the swirling emotions of the day.
“I’m just trying to connect some dots and make sense of everything.
” The transition from my solitary trailer life to this bustling, shared existence is a lot to process, even if it is exactly what I've always craved.
“Need to talk it out?” he asks, sounding genuine and sincere. His gaze is steady, searching mine with a level of concern that makes my breath hitch. He isn't just asking out of politeness, he wants to be the sounding board I need when my thoughts get too loud and I need to talk them out.
“Nope, I think I’m getting there all on my own,” I announce, giving him a shy smile.
“But if I do need you, I’ll seek you out.
” I realize then that for the first time, I don't have to handle the heavy lifting of my life in total isolation. Having him at my back, even if I’m not ready to divulge every piece of my history just yet, gives me the strength to keep moving forward.