Chapter 8
The roar of the Iron Angels’ bikes faded slow into the distance, leaving the air thick and ringing with silence. Rain, damp leather, and cold metal hung sharp in every breath I took.
My hands shook so hard I had to press them flat against the cool counter just to stay upright. The threat was gone – those men were racing back home – but the realisation of how close I’d come to being dragged back to my father’s suffocating world hit me in crashing waves.
I looked up… and my breath caught.
Rage hadn’t gone to sit at his table. He stood right in front of me, looming large over the counter. The terrifying Enforcer who’d just torn threats apart had vanished, replaced by that quiet, watchful biker who’d been seeing me this whole time.
“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” he rumbled, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
I swallowed hard, tucking my hands out of sight into my apron pockets, trying to still the tremors. “Just… bit of a shock. I should get back to work. Your coffee will be cold. I’m fine, just mopping, and—”
“You’re closing early,” he cut in, tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. He didn’t wait for me to agree, just stepped round the counter edge and plucked the damp cloth straight from my grasp. “Go flip the sign. Lock the door. I’ll handle the rest.”
Heat rushed up my neck at how close he stood. Normally if someone cornered me like this, every warning bell would scream. But all I felt was the warm earthy scent of him wrapping around me, and a shy, fluttering sort of nervousness low in my ribs.
“Okay,” I whispered.
My legs felt wobbly as I went to the door, flipping the sign and sliding the heavy deadbolt home. That sharp, solid click brought a flood of relief. Safe. Locked in here with him.
When I turned back, the sight that met me was so absurd, so perfect, I almost forgot how to breathe.
Rage – covered in ink and scars, feared across three counties – was carefully stacking the dainty wooden chairs upside down on the tables.
Moving so gentle, like he was handling something precious, muscles shifting beneath his cut with every quiet motion.
I leaned my hip against the counter, crossing my arms, a small smile tugging at my mouth. That old wariness still lingered, but it was softening into something warm, something new.
“You know,” I teased gently, “you’re surprisingly handy at tidying up a coffee shop for such a big man.” The walls I’d spent years building finally cracked open a little further.
He paused, holding a chair suspended in one huge hand, and glanced over his shoulder, a faint boyish smirk pulling at his mouth. “Don’t go tellin’ the brothers. Got a reputation t’keep.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I murmured, stepping closer.
He set the last chair down and came back over, leaning his forearms on the counter so we were eye to eye. Up close I could see faint pale scars slicing through the stubble along his jaw – proof he’d seen his own share of battles. Yet the way he looked at me was nothing but gentle.
“That bloke from London,” Rage said quiet. “Said your father’s a powerful man.”
The mention of him twisted my stomach tight with old fear, but looking at Rage, that dread didn’t stick.
“He is. Down in London, the Sterling name opens every door. Old family line with old money. Treats people like assets on a balance sheet. Arranged a marriage for me with some old business partner to tie up a deal. I was just… property to be traded.” My voice steadied.
“So, I packed a bag in the middle of the night, climbed out the window, and got the first train. Changed my name. Wanted something that was just mine.”
Rage listened in heavy silence, jaw clenching tight beneath his stubble. When I finished, he reached over, rough calloused fingers brushing light against my wrist.
“He ain’t never takin’ you back, Danika,” he vowed, voice dropping low and rough, thick with absolute certainty that vibrated right through the counter. “Iron Angels don’t let outsiders hunt on our land. And I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ no one drag you back to no cage.”
My throat tightened up, emotion rising fast. For so many years I’d fought this battle all alone. Standing here with this brutal honest outlaw, I suddenly realised I didn’t have to carry it all on my own anymore.
“Why’re you doing’ this?” I whispered, eyes glistening as I looked up at him. “You don’t even know me.”
He leaned in a fraction closer, his thumb brushing soft over my pulse point one more time before he pulled back just enough to meet my gaze.
“I know enough,” he rumbled deep and sure. “I know you’re the first thing round here that ain’t scared of me. Told you before – you got a fire in you. Always been partial to a good flame.”
A soft breathless laugh fell from my lips, heat rising high in my cheeks. The shy girl who hid away was blushing, but the fierce woman who’d run away from London was completely captivated.
“You know,” I teased quiet, “you talk an awful lot when you actually get started.”
His smirk widened, giving my hand one last firm reassuring squeeze before letting go. “Yeah, well. Little bird told me I oughta use my words.”
He straightened up, glancing toward the door. “C’mon. Grab your coat. I’ll walk you home. Check the perimeter first. You’re safe now, Danika. Get used to it.”
I turned to fetch my wool coat from the back, heart beating a brand-new rhythm.
The shadows that used to terrify me were still out there…
but for the first time, stepping out the door didn’t feel like walking into danger.
It felt like walking out with someone who’d burn the world down to keep the monsters far away.