Chapter 33
By seven that evening, the pale grey of the afternoon had faded away, turning into a deep bruised purple dusk.
Warm soft light filled the common room, and the rich savoury smell of Aysel’s slow-cooked stew drifted through the air.
But even that couldn’t quite hide the hum of nervous energy thrumming through the floorboards.
Waiting was the worst part. Rose’s words about their fast, all-or-nothing kind of love kept spinning round and round in my head.
My hands shook a little as I set heavy bowls out along the long tables. Every few seconds I found myself glancing up at the high reinforced windows, watching the dark empty yard.
Then a low mechanical groan cut straight through the quiet.
My heart slammed up into my throat, thudding fast and hard against my ribs. Beside me Rose kept laying napkins out, slow and steady. Ivy and Diamond came in from the kitchen, then froze – just like me – as heavy footsteps sounded from outside.
A few long agonising seconds later, the big side doors swung open with a loud clang.
The room went quiet all at once, then filled with the heavy thud of work-worn boots on wood.
Pres walked in first, broad shoulders like he carried the whole world on his back.
His cap was pulled low, his face hard and unreadable – until he spotted Rose, and crossed the room straight to her, pulling her close against his chest like he needed to make sure she was really there.
Bear, Shadow and the new Prospects followed him in, then Aysel’s husband Tank. Their cuts were dusted with road dirt, their knuckles scraped raw. The women stepped forward straight away to meet them.
But I couldn’t see him.
I scanned the doorway again and again, cold panic curling tight in my chest. Where is he? Please God, let him be alright. Just as the thought left my mind, a shadow filled the frame.
Rage.
He looked terrifying, and breathtaking all at once. His vest hung open, shirt clinging tight to his broad chest, dark hair messy and wind-tousled. But when he stepped into the light, my heart gave a sharp painful squeeze.
A dark bruise bloomed high on his cheekbone, and a jagged cut split the corner of his swollen lip, with a tiny fleck of dried blood still there. His hands were wrapped tight in worn black cloth, stained with grease and something darker.
He looked exactly like the man he was – hard, dangerous, like he’d just spent hours tearing something apart that threatened what was his.
But the second he stepped inside; he didn’t look at anyone else. Not Pres, not the others, not even the door. His gaze cut straight through the room, right to me.
Everything inside me melted away. That cold hard mask he wore out there just fell apart. His eyes went soft, bright, like nothing else existed but me. He breathed hard, like he’d run miles just to get back here.
He didn’t care who was watching, or what was proper. He started walking straight towards me, heavy boots thudding slow and sure on the floorboards, claiming every step.
All that usual shyness just vanished. I didn’t step back or hide behind the table. I remembered what Rose told me – this was my whirlwind. I stepped forward too, meeting him halfway across the room.
He loomed over me, casting his shadow all around me, and suddenly all I could smell was rain, cold air, leather and him.
“You’re bleeding,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Before I even thought about it, my hand lifted up. I brushed my fingers soft against his unhurt cheek, my thumb hovering just millimetres from the cut on his lip.
Rage froze right where he stood.
A rough sharp breath tore out of him, his eyes going wide. That terrifying, untouchable side of him just crumbled right down at the touch of my hand. He looked at me like I was something precious, something he never thought he’d get to have.
“It ain’t nothing, sweetheart,” he rumbled, his voice deep, rough and raw. Slowly he lifted one of his wrapped hands and covered mine, pressing it firm against his face. “They won’t be coming round here again. I promise you.”
A huge wave of relief washed over me so strong my knees went weak. I knew how dangerous he was, how much power was in him – but none of that would ever be turned on me. He was a beast, yes… but he was my beast.
“Thank you,” I breathed, holding his gaze. I didn’t pull my hand away. I let it rest there, letting him feel I wasn’t going anywhere.
Then a loud dramatic cough broke the moment.
“Alright break it up!” Tank called out from the table, grinning like mad. “Some of us spent half the night in that damp basement and we’re starving! Save the romance for later!”
The whole room burst out laughing, brothers slamming their fists on the tables, cheering and teasing him.
Rage never took his eyes off me, a wicked little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He let out a low growl that rumbled right through me, then slowly let go of my hand.
“Go get some stew, Enforcer,” I teased softly, my voice light and sure. “You look like you need it.”
“Aye, lady,” he rumbled back, giving me one last look so full of possession and promise it made my stomach flip, before he went to join the others.
I walked back to the counter, my hand still tingling where he’d been. Rose was leaning there, grinning, lifting her glass up in a quiet toast.
The fight with my father wasn’t over – they wouldn’t let this go easily. But as I looked out at the loud laughing room, at Rage sitting right where he belonged, I felt safe in way I’d never known. My walls have crumbled down, my beast was home – this is where I stood now, no doubt left.