Chapter Seventeen
Ravage
Leaving church, I found Karlyn with Aunt Roxy and Melissa as Ghost, Eros, and Indigo stood in the shadows watching them intently. Walking straight over to them, Aunt Roxy stood, her face worried. “I know that look, Jackson. What happened?”
Shaking my head, I just looked at the woman who raised me, loved me, protected me as best she could.
When I said nothing, I watched as she took a deep breath and nodded, then she hugged me tight and whispered, “Promise me you’ll be careful.
Remember everything we taught you. Trust your family, Jackson.
You’re real family. We will always have your back. ”
Hugging her tight, I whispered, “I love you, Momma.” Her arms tightened around me as she stifled a sob.
Releasing her, she wiped her tears as Sypher and Phantom walked over to us. “We’re going with you,” Phantom said firmly. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I can’t sit on my ass anymore. Besides, you are going to need me. I can be useful.”
“Me too,” Sypher added. “I am not leaving my brother to fight this shit alone.”
“What about Dante and Danika?” Roxy asked, worry written all over her face.
“Dante’s already made the call,” Sypher said, then turned to Melissa, who nodded and quickly left the room. “Ghost, are you ready to leave?”
“Just waiting on you, brother.” The man smiled.
I looked at Aunt Roxy, who simply nodded. “I just need five minutes.” Then she too rushed from the room.
Karlyn walked over to me. “We’re not staying, are we?”
“No, baby. We’re not,” I admitted, pulling her close and wrapping my arms around her. “Indigo, Eros, this shit has nothing to do with you. I’ll understand if you want to walk away.”
“Fuck that.” Indigo stiffened as he firmly said, “We’ve been brothers our whole lives. Not leaving you to clean up this mess yourself.”
“Me either,” Eros stated.
“We’re gonna need a place to lie low for a while, gather information until we can come up with a plan,” I said as Melissa walked back into the room carrying Danika, with Dante beside her, carrying a small suitcase and a backpack. Moments later, Roxy reemerged, rolling a suitcase behind her.
“I know a place,” Sypher said as he threw Dante a set of keys, and we all headed for the doors. “Just follow me.”
“Jackson, wait!” Pops shouted, rushing over to me. Nodding at everyone else to go ahead, I said nothing until they all made it outside before I turned to the man I once admired and respected as he said, “Don’t do this. You will only make this shit worse.”
Smirking, I shook my head, then looked the man dead in the eyes and sneered, “Go fuck yourself, James.”
I didn’t wait for his response. The heavy silence between us lingered only a moment before I turned and walked out, each step fueled by anger and resolve.
The air outside was thick with dread, but the comfort of my friends and family waiting reminded me I wasn’t alone in this, no matter how dark things might get.
With every uncertain glance exchanged, we understood that what lay ahead would demand more than courage—it would require trust, sacrifice, and a willingness to face the unknown together.
The sun had barely crested the horizon as we all pulled up to an old country house in Albin, Wyoming.
The house wasn’t much, but it was off the radar, and no one would look for us here.
Getting off my bike, I looked around the area as Sypher walked over to me.
“Dante and I stayed here after my accident. The only people who know of this place are Bane, Haizley, and Reaper.”
Just then, the front door opened and out walked the one person I never imagined seeing. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, he looked out of place against the rural Wyoming backdrop.
“Pop-Pop!” Danika cried as Dante put her down, and we all watched the little girl run to Crispin Sinclair.
Scooping the little girl up into his arms, kissing and hugging her to him, he said, “The house is all stocked with everything you requested, Danny. Rowen is getting the plane ready. We will leave as soon as you all say your goodbyes.”
Sypher nodded, shaking the man’s hand. “Thanks for this.”
“You are my family too, even if you don’t like it. I will always protect what’s mine.”
“Mellie,” Ghost muttered, looking at his woman. “I want you to go with Sinclair. Take Dani and Dante and go.”
“What about you?”
“I can’t go with you this time, baby.”
“But you promised.”
Nav walked over to them. “Maybe you should sit this one out, Ghost. Melissa needs you.”
Ghost growled. “Not leaving my brothers to fight this war without me.”
“I’m pregnant,” Melissa muttered, and Ghost stiffened. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure, but I know I am, and I don’t want to raise this baby alone.”
Walking over to the couple, I placed my hand on Ghost’s shoulder. “You need to go with them. Someone needs to have their backs. If shit goes sideways, take them and disappear. Vanish. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Jackson’s right, Ghost,” Roxy added. “I don’t know where the fancy suit is taking us, but I know Melissa is going to need you. So will Dante, Danika and I.”
I could see his turmoil, the war between staying and fighting with us and protecting his woman.
It wasn’t an easy decision to make, and I really felt for the man.
When Melissa reached for his hand, Ghost nodded and his shoulders slumped.
I didn’t claim to know what that decision cost him, but it was his cross to bear.
Turning to my woman, I gathered her in my arms, the familiar scent of her hair a comforting anchor in the storm brewing around us.
“Baby,” I murmured, my words feeling hollow even to me.
“I want you to go with them too.” My own gut twisted with the unspoken truth: I was asking her to leave me because I believed it was the only way to keep her safe, a terrifying gamble with her life and my own heart.
“No.” Karlyn’s voice was sharp, laced with a defiance that both thrilled and terrified me. She shrugged me off, her rejection a physical blow. “No,” she repeated, her eyes flashing, “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”
The accusation in her voice, the unwavering certainty, gnawed at me. Did she not see the danger?
With that, she stormed off into the farmhouse, slamming the screen door behind her. Eros and Indigo, ever loyal, quickly followed her, leaving me in the ringing silence.
Aunt Roxy chuckled. “I like her.”
I liked her too, so much that the thought of her being hurt, even by my hand, was an unbearable burden. And yet, I refused to risk her. My failure to convince her, my agonizing need to push her away for her own good, was a defeat I already felt in my bones.
I found her upstairs in one of the bedrooms, looking out of a window over the vast Wyoming hillside. She stood rooted in place, unmoving, her arms crossed over her chest. I knew she heard me close the door and approach, and yet she didn’t even flinch.
Instead, I watched as her back stiffened. “I heard you.”
“What?”
Barely turning her head to the side, she clarified, “When I was in my coma. I heard you. I felt your hand in mine. I heard everything you said, what everyone said. It was like being trapped in a glass box. I screamed and screamed, but no one heard me. I felt trapped inside my own body. Everyone who came to see me talked about how sorry they were, how they were praying I woke up, but not you. You talked to me as if I were alive. You told me all your fears, your dreams, your hopes for the future but, more importantly, you included me in those dreams. So much so that I believed you. Over time, I looked forward to your visits, the time you would spend with me. Mainly, I craved your touch. I depended on it and grew to need it like a drug. So you see, I can’t be separated from you.
Ever. If you send me away, you might as well put a bullet in my head and kill me yourself, because I can’t live in this fucked-up world without you. I’m addicted to you, Jackson.”
Her words hung in the air, raw and potent—a confession that shattered the fragile truce between us. Her addiction to me, a dependence she’d developed while trapped in that liminal space between life and death, was a testament to the bond we’d forged in the crucible of our shared trauma.
I couldn’t deny her, couldn’t push her away when her very existence seemed intertwined with mine.
The thought of her withering without me, of her spirit breaking under the weight of this war, was a price I refused to pay.
My protective instincts, already screaming to keep her safe, now warred with the desperate need to keep her near, to be her shield against the storm that threatened to consume us both.
I reached for her, my hand wrapping around her slender neck as I pulled her close. Her confession ripped open my soul, a fierce affirmation of a love that had been tested and forged in the fires of Hell.
“You’re mine, Karlyn,” I rasped, my voice rough with emotion, the possessiveness in my tone a stark contrast to the gentle lover I knew she needed me to be. “I can’t be gentle. I don’t know how.”
My gaze met hers, and in her wide blue eyes, I saw not the fear of a victim, but the quiet strength of a survivor, a phoenix rising from the ashes. She was no longer the girl I’d found broken, but a woman who had found her voice, her resilience, and a love that had become her anchor.
“Then don’t be.”
Growling, I slammed my lips down on hers, unable to stop the inferno she’d just ignited.
My kiss was a raw, desperate affirmation, a claiming that transcended words.
The pain, the fear—it all dissolved in the heat of this moment, leaving only the fierce, undeniable truth of our connection.
Her confession had unlocked something within me, a need to possess, to protect, to claim her as my own with a ferocity that had been simmering for far too long.