Chapter 47
The heavy door clicked shut behind us, and the world outside died instantly.
All the roar—the engines, the shouting, the raw, triumphant noise of Angels and Vipers celebrating Sterling’s retreat—muffled into nothing but a faint, distant hum.
It was like the walls themselves swallowed the chaos, wrapping us in thick, solid quiet.
The air here was warm, smelling of seasoned wood, dying fire embers, and the faint, sweet scent of Danika’s hair.
I stood still for a long moment, hand resting on the thick iron latch, letting the tension that had been coiled in my spine for hours begin to unfurl.
This was our space. Locked. Protected. Unreachable to anyone who didn’t belong.
I shrugged my cut off my shoulders, the leather worn soft in places, heavy with weight and history.
I set it slow over the back of the chair, my knuckles brushing the patches—RAGE bold white, the Iron Angels winged skull stamped deep over my heart.
I felt lighter without it, like I could stop being the Enforcer for just a little while and just be… me. Just be hers.
Danika sat right where I’d left her: perched on the edge of the wide bed, the firelight gilding the edges of her hair.
She wasn’t fidgeting, wasn’t looking over her shoulder anymore.
She just watched me—steady, clear, that quiet new strength shining bright in her eyes.
It wasn’t the scared, guarded wariness she’d carried when she first walked into my life; it was something deeper. Earned. Rooted.
“You’re quiet,” she said softly, her voice fitting perfectly into the hush of the room.
I took the two slow steps to reach her, kicking off my boots, them landing heavy on the floorboards, no need to hide my presence anymore. I sank down on one knee before her, bringing us level, my hands coming to rest firm and warm on her thighs.
“Just breathing,” I rumbled, the rough edge of my voice softening only for her. “For the first time since I walked into that coffee shop, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. No suits. No threats. No miles of road to watch.”
She leaned forward, her palms coming up to frame my face—her touch gentle, like she knew every scar, every rough edge, and didn’t mind a single one. Her thumbs brushed over my cheekbones, slow and sure.
“Is it really over?” she asked, quieter this time, like she was almost afraid to believe it. “My fath - Arthur… he doesn’t just walk away. He has lawyers, connections, money stacked high enough to buy whole armies. He won’t let go easily. Not when he thinks I’m still something he owns.”
I covered her hands with mine, pressing them harder against my skin so she felt real, felt solid.
“He walked away because he knew he’d lost,” I told her, firm and unshakable.
“He brought men, guns, pride. We brought family. He saw Vipers circle this lot, saw Angels stand wall-to-wall, saw you—standing tall, holding that paper like a weapon sharper than any blade. He knows he can’t get in.
He knows he can’t touch you. Not while I’m breathing. ”
I tilted my head, searching her eyes. “He ran with his tail between his legs. You’re safe here, Danika. This isn’t temporary. This isn’t hiding. This is home.”
A breath left her then—long, shaky, like she’d been holding it since the moment she first saw his car. She leaned into me, resting her forehead against mine, and I felt the last of her guard dissolve.
“Home,” she whispered, testing the word out like it was something precious she’d never been allowed to say before. “I spent so long thinking home was just a place to lock yourself in. A place where no one finds you. But this… this feels like something else.”
“Something else?” I prompted, shifting to sit beside her on the bed, our shoulders pressing close.
“Like I don’t have to hold the walls up,” she said, turning to face me fully. “Like I can let them fall and you’ll still be there. Like I don’t have to watch the door because you’re already watching it for me.”
My arm curled around her waist, pulling her tight against my side, feeling the warmth of her through our clothes. I rested my jaw on the top of her head, letting the peace of the moment sink deep into my bones.
“I’ve lived my whole life watching doors,” I admitted, the words coming out rougher than I intended.
“Grew up with locks and bolts and people you couldn’t trust. Thought safety was never letting anyone close enough to hurt you.
Then you walked in—quiet, fierce, carrying coffee and attitude—and turned it all upside down. ”
I pulled back just enough to look at her, to let her see every truth in my gaze.
“I don’t want walls between us, Danika. I don’t want secrets or distance. Whatever comes next—lawyers, threats, whatever he tries—we face it together. You’re not the runaway heiress anymore. I’m not just the Enforcer. We’re us.”
She smiled then—soft, real, lighting up her face brighter than the fire. “Us. I like the sound of that.”
We sat there for a long stretch, the fire crackling low in the grate, the world outside still quiet, just us being us. I traced patterns on her hip, she rested her head on my shoulder, and for a minute, I truly believed we could have this peace. That we’d earned it. That the worst was behind us.
But the quiet didn’t last.
It never does, not in this life.
Then we heard it—sharp, sudden, cutting through the calm like glass breaking.
A heavy crash from out in the corridor, loud and hard, followed by a cry that wasn’t fear—it was pain.
Instantly, my body snapped to high alert, every muscle coiling tight again, instincts screaming before I even registered the sound.
I was on my feet before the echo faded, hand dropping to my hip, ready for a fight.
Danika was up beside me in a heartbeat—no hesitation, no shrinking back. She matched my pace as we moved to the door, opening it fast.
The hallway was dim, lit only by lamps on the walls.
Halfway down, Ivy leaned against the plaster, looking small and terrified.
Her face was pale as paper, lips pressed thin, sweat beading on her forehead.
A hand pressed hard into her swollen belly, knuckles white, body swaying like she might collapse.
At her feet lay a shattered mug—ceramic fragments scattered, dark tea pooling dark on the floorboards.
And down low, spreading fast over her trousers, was a damp, dark stain.
“It hurts…” she gasped, her breath coming short and ragged, panic rising sharp in her voice. “It’s too soon… way too soon.”
Her eyes darted wild up and down the empty corridor, searching for a face she knew. “Where’s Bones? Rage, where’s my husband?”
Her voice cracked, thick with fear. She was alone, and she was hurting, and the man she needed most wasn’t there.
I moved fast down the hall, Danika right on my heels. I reached Ivy just as her knees buckled, catching her weight easily, holding her steady against my side. She was trembling, her whole-body tense with the effort to hold on.
“Bones is out on a supply run down the valley,” I told her, keeping my voice low, steady, commanding—no panic, no doubt. “But I’ve got you. Danika’s got you. We’re not leaving you.”
Danika stepped in close on her other side, her hand coming gentle but firm to Ivy’s shoulder. She didn’t flinch at the mess or the fear; she just leaned in, her tone calm and grounding.
“Listen to me, Ivy. You’re safe. Dr Cole is already down at the clinic wing; he’s got everything ready. Just breathe, okay? Nice and slow. We’ve got you.”
Ivy twisted in my grip, looking back toward the entrance, tears spilling over. “Bones! Please… I need him! I can’t do this without him.”
“Someone’s already calling him,” Danika said, reassuring, staying right in step as I shifted Ivy in my arms. “Reapers got the radio. He’ll be riding hard as soon as he hears. But right now, we’re your people too.”
I scooped her up fully then gentle but fast, supporting her weight, careful not to jostle her too much. She was heavy, rounded with life, but I held her secure against my chest.
“Hold on tight,” I told her, my voice solid. “We’re going now.”
We moved fast down the corridor, striking a steady rhythm, Danika walking right beside us, never leaving Ivy’s side.
Outside, far off, the noise of celebration still hummed brothers laughing, engines revving, the taste of victory still sweet.
But inside our walls, the mood had shifted entirely.
The relief of one battle was replaced instantly by the urgency of life coming fast.
We reached the end of the hall, and there it was: the clinic doors, solid and professional.
As we stepped through, the rest of the world fell away completely—noise vanishing, replaced by warm soft lighting, clean air, quiet purpose.
Dr Cole moved toward us ready, but even as we entered, my focus stayed rooted where it mattered: Danika beside me, steady as steel, and the truth that we don’t just fight wars—we hold each other through the good parts too.