Chapter 6
Chapter Six
RYDER
Elena Delmont trusts like a wounded animal.
Carefully and slowly. Ready to bolt at the first wrong move.
And somehow, every tiny bit she gives me feels heavier than a loaded gun.
By morning, the rain had stopped. Mist hangs low over the trees, hiding the dirt track from the road.
Good cover. Temporary cover. Not enough.
Grant’s men will find the trail eventually.
Men with money always think money makes them good hunters. They’re wrong.
I make coffee while Elena sits at the table, knees tucked under my oversized hoodie, hair damp from the shower.
The bruising on her cheek is clearer now the makeup is gone.
Fingerprints on her wrist. Yellowing marks near her collarbone.
Old damage beneath new. Each bruise is a reason. I add them silently to the list.
“What?” she asks softly.
I look away. “Nothing.”
“You get a certain look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re deciding where to hide a body.”
I pause. She blinks.
“Oh.”
I sip my coffee. Her mouth parts, then closes again. Then, to my surprise, she smiles faintly.
“Should I be worried?”
“Not about me.”
The answer comes too fast. Too honest. Her smile fades into something softer.
I don’t like it. Not because it’s bad. Because it’s good.
And good things have a nasty habit of bleeding out in my hands.
I step outside before I do something stupid like touch her face.
The perimeter is clean. No fresh tracks, broken brush or cigarette butts, no boot prints, no sign of a lazy tail.
Still, the back of my neck prickles. I learned a long time ago not to ignore that.
Inside, Elena is standing by the table with the legal papers spread out in front of her. Her fingers trace the name at the top. Elena Margaret Delmont.
“You don’t have to look at those again,” I say.
“I do.”
Her voice is quiet but firm. Good. There she is. The spine beneath the fear.
“My grandparents raised me,” she says. “Mostly. My mother liked the idea of being rich more than being a mother.”
I say nothing. People talk more when silence gives them room.
“Granddad bought the ranch when he was twenty-five. Built the company from nothing. Grandma painted wildflowers on every windowsill. She said ugly places behaved better when you made them beautiful.”
Her mouth trembles.
“They wanted me to have something no one could take from me.”
I glance at the papers. “But someone found a way.”
“Grant did.”
“How did you meet him?”
“A charity dinner.” Her face twists. “He was charming. Perfect. Everyone loved him. He listened to me like I mattered.”
“And then?”
“And then he slowly made sure he was the only person I had left.”
There it is. Isolation. Classic move.
“He didn’t hit me at first,” she says. “That came later. After I’d already started defending him to everyone.”
My hand tightens around the mug. “First time?”
She looks down. “He shoved me into a wall because I disagreed with him in front of his father.”
I set the coffee down before I crush the cup. “Elena.”
“I stayed.”
“You survived.”
Her eyes lift. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Her throat works. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel true.”
Before I can answer, the burner phone on the counter buzzes. Not mine. Hers. The one I stripped, checked, and locked down last night. Unknown number. Elena’s face drains. I pick it up and put it on speaker without speaking. Grant’s voice fills the cabin.
“Elena, sweetheart. Enough now.”
She goes rigid. My blood cools.
“I know you’re scared,” he continues, smooth as oil. “I know you’re confused. That man has taken advantage of your fragile state.”
Elena grips the edge of the table. I watch her, not the phone.
“You need to come home before this gets worse,” Grant says. “Before people get hurt because of you.”
There it is. The hook. Guilt. Elena swallows hard. Then she reaches out and ends the call. My brows lift. She stares at the phone like it might bite.
“I don’t want to hear his voice.”
“Good.”
Her hands shake. But she did it. She ended the call herself. Pride hits me so hard I have to turn away.
“Ryder?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want him to win.”
I turn back. She stands there bruised, barefoot, swallowed by my clothes, looking terrified and furious all at once. Beautiful. Dangerous thought.
“He won’t,” I say.
She nods once. Then the cabin phone rings. The landline. Nobody should have that number. Elena and I look at each other. My gun is in my hand before the second ring. I answer. Bishop’s voice comes through.
“Road’s compromised.”
I go still. “How far?”
“Ten minutes. Maybe less. Three SUVs asking around two towns over. Knuckles found traffic cam hits.”
I move instantly. “Send me the alternate route.”
“Already did. Beast and two brothers are rolling toward you.”
I hang up. Elena stands frozen.
“They found us?”
“Not yet.”
“But they will.”
“Yeah.”
Her breathing speeds up. I cross to her but stop an arm’s length away.
“Elena. Look at me.”
She does. “Pack only what matters.”
Her eyes flick to the papers.
“Those.”
“Then grab them.”
She moves fast despite the pain in her feet. Good girl. No. Not good girl. Don’t go there. I load weapons, wipe surfaces, kill lights, and check the back trail. Elena stuffs papers into her backpack with shaking hands, but she doesn’t fall apart.
We’re out the rear door in under three minutes. My Harley waits beneath the trees. The second Elena sees it, some of the panic eases. That shouldn’t do something to me. It does. She climbs on behind me without being told. Her arms wrap around my waist. Tighter this time. Trusting.
I kick the engine to life. As we tear away through the trees, headlights appear at the far end of the cabin road. Too late. They found us. Elena presses her face between my shoulder blades. I twist the throttle. The bike roars. And the hunt begins.