Chapter 7 - Claire
The safe room is larger than I expected.
More like a small apartment than the closet-sized space I'd imagined. There's a small kitchenette with bottled water and non-perishable food, a bathroom, several cots along one wall, and a bank of monitors showing security camera feeds from around the clubhouse.
"Better to have them here," King had explained tersely. "Last thing we need is Eagles figuring out where they are."
The kids sit on a pile of blankets in the corner now, oblivious to the tension filling the room. Anna, a sweet-faced little girl with blonde pigtails, shows Eli how to make a cat's cradle with a piece of string, their heads bent together in concentration.
Eli looks so much like his father. The same green eyes, the same determined set to his jaw. He glanced at me curiously when they arrived, but accepted Luna's brief explanation that I was "a friend who needs help" without question.
"How are your ribs?" Amelia asks, sitting beside me on one of the cots. She's pretty in a wholesome way, with kind eyes that remind me of a kindergarten teacher.
"Sore," I admit. "But the wrapping helps."
She nods knowingly. "Broken ribs are the worst. They take forever to heal, and there's not much you can do for them."
I don't ask how she knows this. The sympathy in her eyes tells me she's experienced similar injuries. Another survivor, like me.
Luna stands near the monitors, her eyes scanning each screen. Jenny paces the length of the room, unable to settle, stopping occasionally to check on the children before resuming her nervous circuit.
"They'll be fine," Amelia says softly, noticing my gaze following Jenny. "Rage and the others. They know what they're doing."
"I know," I say, though I don't, not really. How can anyone know how a gunfight will end?
The intercom on the wall crackles to life. "Luna, check camera three," King's voice, calm but urgent. "Movement at the east gate."
Luna leans closer to one of the monitors. "I see it. Two vehicles. Looks like they're setting up something... could be a battering ram."
"Copy that. Tank's on it."
This is real. Men with guns are surrounding the clubhouse, intent on killing everyone inside, and the woman beside me is discussing it like a weather report.
A sudden booming sound makes me jump. Distant but powerful enough that we feel it through the floor.
"What was that?" Jenny stops pacing, her face pale.
"Breaching the east gate," Luna says grimly, eyes still on the monitors. "They're using explosives."
My pulse races, fear climbing up my throat like bile. "Tommy's with them," I whisper. "He has to be."
Amelia places a gentle hand on my arm. "Even if he is, he can't get to you in here. This room is built like a bunker."
On the monitors, I can see figures moving around the perimeter of the compound. Dark shapes against the twilight, carrying weapons. The Savage Riders are nowhere to be seen, having taken defensive positions inside the building.
"Here they come," Luna says into the intercom. "Main approach, at least six, heavily armed. Two more groups circling to the west and south entrances."
"Copy that," comes King's response. "Stay alert. Eyes on all sectors."
The tension in the room is suffocating. Jenny has stopped pacing and now stands frozen, staring at the monitors. Amelia moves to the children, positioning herself between them and the door, her body language protective.
I remain on the cot, feeling useless and exposed despite the safety of our concrete surroundings. This is happening because of me, because I ran, because I came to the Savage Riders, because I told them what I knew.
No, I remind myself firmly. They already had this planned. This is happening because of Tommy and the Eagles. Because they chose violence and vengeance over peace.
Another explosion rocks the building, closer this time. The lights flicker but remain on.
"Generator's holding," Luna says, more to herself than to us. "West entrance breached. They're inside the outer perimeter."
Eli looks up from his game, suddenly alert. "What was that noise?"
"Just thunder, buddy," Amelia says smoothly. "We're having a storm tonight. That's why we're all camping in here, remember? Like an adventure."
Eli seems skeptical but returns to playing with Anna, who appears completely untroubled by the "thunder."
The first gunshots make us all flinch, a rapid staccato of automatic weapons fire, followed by the deeper boom of shotguns. The battle has begun in earnest.
"Mommy?" Anna calls, her small voice trembling. "Is that thunder too?"
"Yes, sweetheart," Amelia replies, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "Big storm tonight. But we're safe in here."
I admire her composure, her ability to maintain a calm facade for her daughter while men fight and possibly die just outside our sanctuary.
The gunfire intensifies, shouts and the occasional crash of something heavy falling or breaking. Through it all, Luna remains at the monitors, relaying information to King through the intercom.
"They've reached the main hall. Tank and Shadow engaging. Torch and Steel holding the west corridor."
"Where's Rage?" I ask before I can stop myself.
Luna glances at me. "North quadrant with Beast. They're holding well."
Relief floods through me, immediately followed by shame. Men are fighting for their lives out there. All of them someone's son, brother, friend. Why should Rage's safety matter more to me than the others?
But it does. Somehow, in the span of twenty-four hours, this man with his fierce protectiveness and unexpected gentleness has become important to me. The thought of him being hurt, or worse, twists something deep in my chest.
"I should be out there," Jenny mutters, resuming her pacing. "I know how to shoot now."
"Beast would lose focus if you were in danger," Luna reminds her gently. "You're helping by being here, keeping the children safe."
Jenny nods reluctantly, accepting the logic even as frustration radiates from her tense shoulders.
On the monitors, I catch glimpses of the battle—muzzle flashes in darkened corridors, men in leather cuts taking cover behind overturned furniture, shadows moving tactically through the building. It's impossible to tell who's winning, who's falling.
"There!" I gasp suddenly, pointing at one of the screens. "That's Tommy!"
Luna's attention snaps to the monitor I'm indicating. A tall figure moves confidently through what looks like a storage area, two Eagles flanking him. Even in the grainy security footage, I'd recognize that swagger anywhere.
"North storage," Luna says into the intercom. "Three Eagles, one matches Claire's description of Tommy Reeves."
"Copy that," comes King's terse reply. "Rage, Beast, intercept and neutralize."
My heart leaps into my throat. Rage is going after Tommy. Or Tommy is about to encounter Rage. Either way, a confrontation is imminent between the man who abused me and the man who rescued me.
"He's dangerous," I say, my voice sounding thin and panicky to my own ears. "Tommy. He's... he enjoys hurting people."
"So does Rage, when it's necessary," Luna says quietly. "And Beast is with him. Tommy won't stand a chance."
Another explosion rocks the building, this one close enough that dust sifts down from the ceiling. The lights flicker again, longer this time, before stabilizing.
"What was that?" Jenny demands, her face pale.
Luna checks the monitors. "They've breached the garage. Using explosives to force entry."
"The kids," Amelia says, gathering Anna into her arms. Eli looks frightened now, the game forgotten as he moves closer to Amelia's protective embrace.
"It's okay, buddy," Luna says, crossing to kneel beside him. "Your dad and the others are taking care of everything. This room is the safest place in the whole building."
Eli nods solemnly, but his small hand clutches Anna's tightly. "Dad said he'd come get me when it's over."
"And he will," Luna assures him. "Rage always keeps his promises, doesn't he?"
"Always," Eli agrees, his confidence in his father absolute.
I turn back to the monitors, searching for any sign of Rage or Tommy. The feed from the north storage area shows only empty space now, the figures having moved beyond the camera's range.
"Where did they go?" I ask, unable to keep the anxiety from my voice.
Luna checks each monitor. "I don't see them. They must be in a blind spot between cameras."
The gunfire has intensified, concentrated now in what sounds like the central part of the building. Shouted commands mix with the battle sounds. Impossible to distinguish words or voices through the reinforced walls of our sanctuary.
"How long has it been?" Jenny asks, checking her watch despite the question.
"Twenty-three minutes since they breached the perimeter," Luna answers. "Feels longer."
It does. Each minute stretches like an hour, each moment without information about what's happening, about who's alive and who isn't, a small torture.
I close my eyes, unable to watch the fractured glimpses of violence on the monitors any longer. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I see Tommy's face as it was the last time I saw him—cold with rage, promising retribution if I ever tried to leave.
The memory sends a shudder through me. I open my eyes, forcing myself back to the present, to this room where at least for now, I'm safe from him.
A commotion on one of the monitors catches my attention.
Three figures grappling in what looks like a narrow hallway.
Two in Savage Riders cuts, one in Eagles colors.
Even on the small screen, I recognize Beast's massive frame and Rage's distinctive movement.
The third man, facing away from the camera, can only be Tommy.
"They've got him," Luna says, leaning closer to the screen. "North corridor."
We watch in tense silence as the fight unfolds. Beast pins one of Tommy's arms behind his back while Rage delivers a brutal punch to his midsection. Tommy doubles over but manages to break Beast's grip, lunging toward Rage with something in his hand—a knife, glinting in the dim light.
"No!" I cry out, as if Tommy could hear me, as if I could somehow stop what's happening.
Rage sidesteps the blade, grabbing Tommy's wrist and twisting until the knife clatters to the floor. Beast moves in again, and together they force Tommy to his knees, his face finally visible to the camera.
It is Tommy, his handsome features contorted with rage as he struggles against the two larger men. Even without audio, I can tell he's shouting, spitting curses and threats as Rage forces his arms behind his back.
"They've got him," Luna says into the intercom. "North corridor."
"Alive?" comes King's terse reply.
"For now. Rage and Beast have him contained."
There's a pause before King responds. "Bring him to the chapel. We need information."
Luna confirms the order, and we watch as Rage and Beast haul Tommy to his feet, marching him down the corridor and out of the camera's view.
The knot of tension in my chest loosens slightly. Tommy is captured. He can't hurt me now. But the fighting continues elsewhere in the building, the gunfire undiminished.
"What happens now?" I ask quietly.
Luna's expression is grim. "They'll question him about the Eagles' numbers, positions, whether Vulture is here personally. Then they'll decide what to do with him."
I know what she's not saying: that these decisions will likely end with Tommy's death. Despite everything he's done to me, the thought brings no satisfaction, only a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"How's it looking out there?" Amelia asks, still cradling Anna, who has fallen asleep against her shoulder. Eli remains wide awake, watching the adults with solemn eyes.
Luna surveys the monitors. "We're holding. They breached the outer defenses but haven't penetrated the main areas. The brothers are driving them back at the west and south entrances."
A sudden burst of static from the intercom makes us all jump.
Five figures move through the shadows. One in the lead, tall and imposing, the others fanned out behind him in protective formation.
Even from a distance, there's something menacing in the leader's posture that sends ice through my veins.
He's coming. For his cousin. For me. For everyone.
"That's Vulture," I say, though no one asked.