Chapter 8
The compound rose out of the South Philly darkness like a fortress—three stories of brick and iron, security cameras glinting in the streetlights, a gated lot full of chrome machines that gleamed like weapons.
Mandy should have been terrified.
Instead, as Riot's bike rumbled through the gates, she felt something in her chest loosen for the first time in hours. The brick walls that should have felt like a prison felt like protection. The men in leather cuts who turned to watch them arrive didn't look like threats.
They looked like an army. Her army, if she was lucky.
Riot killed the engine and helped her off the bike. Her legs were shaking—had been shaking since they'd left the burning safehouse—and she had to grip his arm to stay upright.
"Easy." His voice was rough, gentle in a way that made her throat tight. "I've got you."
She looked down at herself and felt her stomach lurch. Blood on her shirt—not hers, she remembered with horrifying clarity. Kyle Renner's blood from when Riot had beaten him to death. The man she'd stabbed in the hallway. The spray from bodies falling in the front room.
She was covered in death, and she couldn't feel anything about it except tired.
"Mandy." Riot's hand came up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You with me?"
"I think so." The words came out thin. Distant. Like someone else was speaking through her mouth. "I'm not sure. Is this shock? I feel like this might be shock."
"Probably." He didn't try to tell her she was fine. Didn't offer empty comfort. Just kept his hand on her face, solid and warm and real. "Let's get you inside."
The compound's interior was a blur of exposed brick and worn leather, industrial lights and the smell of beer and motor oil.
People moved around her—men in cuts, women who watched with knowing eyes—but Mandy couldn't focus on any of them.
Riot kept one arm around her waist, holding her up, guiding her through the maze of hallways and common rooms.
"This is Mandy." She heard him say it more than once, introducing her to faces that wouldn't stick in her memory. "She's with me."
With me. Two words that somehow carried more weight than everything else that had happened tonight.
Names floated past—Gunner, Gallows, someone called Powder who grinned at her like they shared a secret. Riot said something about the safehouse, about Kyle Renner, about the fight. Men clapped him on the shoulder. Someone laughed about the house cleaner with the kitchen knife.
Mandy felt like she was watching it all from underwater.
"Here." Riot stopped in front of a door on the second floor, pulling a key from his pocket. "This is yours. Lock on the inside, no one comes in without your say-so."
The room was small but clean—a bed with a worn quilt, a dresser with a mirror, a window that looked out over the back lot. Someone had left towels on the bed and a change of clothes that looked about her size.
"Bathroom's through there." Riot nodded toward a door she hadn't noticed. "Take as long as you need. I'll be right outside."
Mandy stared at him. At the blood on his knuckles, the bruise forming along his jaw, the way he held himself like he was ready to fight again at any second.
"You're not leaving?"
"Not unless you tell me to." His eyes held hers, steady and sure. "I'll be in the hallway. Anything happens, anything at all, you yell and I come through that door. Got it?"
She should have told him he needed rest too. Should have insisted he take care of himself, get cleaned up, do something about the wounds she'd seen him take during the fight. That's what the old Mandy would have done—put someone else first, made herself small and useful.
Instead, she just nodded. "Okay."
"Okay." He touched her face one more time—thumb brushing across her cheekbone, tracing a line through someone else's blood—and then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Mandy stood in the center of the room and tried to remember how to breathe.
The bathroom was tiny, just a shower stall and a sink and a toilet, but the water ran hot and the pressure was good. She stripped out of her ruined clothes and stepped under the spray, watching pink swirl down the drain.
Kyle Renner's blood. The man she'd stabbed. The people Riot had killed to keep her alive.
She scrubbed her arms first, then her face, then her hair. Used the whole bottle of cheap shampoo, working the lather through until her scalp burned. Watched the water run clear and kept scrubbing anyway, like she could wash away the memories along with the blood.
Twenty minutes. Maybe more. Time had stopped meaning anything.
When she finally turned off the water, her skin was raw and her fingers were pruned and she felt... not better, exactly. But cleaner. Like she'd washed away the victim she'd been and what was left was something harder. Sharper.
She dried off and pulled on the clothes someone had left—soft cotton pants, a faded t-shirt that smelled like detergent. Her reflection in the mirror was a stranger. Red-eyed, hollow-cheeked, with none of the cheerful optimism that had always been her armor.
But underneath the exhaustion, something else burned. Something that felt like steel.
She'd survived. She'd fought. And when Kyle Renner had tried to take her, she'd driven a knife into his gut and refused to die.
Mandy touched the mirror, pressing her palm against the cool glass, and made a promise to the woman staring back at her.
Never again. Never again would she be prey.
When she opened the bathroom door, Riot was exactly where he'd said he would be—leaning against the wall opposite her room, arms crossed, eyes coming up the moment she appeared.
"Hey." His voice was soft. Careful, like he was talking to something wild that might bolt.
"Hey." She stepped into the hallway, suddenly aware of how small she must look in borrowed clothes with her hair dripping down her back. "You're still here."
"Said I would be."
"I know. I just..." She wrapped her arms around herself, the cool air raising goosebumps on her damp skin. "I didn't expect you to actually stay. People don't usually—"
She stopped herself. Didn't finish the sentence. But Riot's eyes went dark with understanding anyway.
"People don't usually what?"
"Keep their promises." The words hurt coming out. Foster homes and social workers and Derek, always Derek, who'd promised to love her while he sold her out to criminals. "People don't usually stick around."
Riot pushed off the wall and moved toward her. Slow. Deliberate. Giving her time to back away if she needed to.
She didn't.
He stopped close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body, smell the smoke and blood that still clung to his clothes. His hand came up to push a strand of wet hair back from her face, the touch so gentle it made her want to cry.
"I'm not people," he said.
"I noticed." She managed something that was almost a smile. "Most people don't beat men to death for threatening me."
"Most people are idiots." His mouth curved. "Kyle Renner got what he deserved. He won't be the last."
"Trevor's still out there."
"For now." The darkness in his eyes wasn't frightening anymore. It was comforting—the promise of violence pointed in the right direction. "He lost his intimidation specialist tonight. Lost eight of his men. He's going to know the Sons are coming for him, and he's going to be scared."
"Good." The word tasted like fire. "I want him scared."
Riot's smile widened, something proud in his expression. "There she is. There's that backbone."
Mandy felt warmth bloom in her chest—stupid, inappropriate, given everything that had happened. But she couldn't help it. This man had killed for her tonight. Had burned down a building to keep her safe. Had stood in a hallway for twenty minutes just so she'd know she wasn't alone.
"Thank you," she said. "For everything. I don't know how to—"
"Don't." He cut her off, not unkindly. "Don't thank me. This is what the club does. What I do. You don't owe me gratitude."
"Then what do I owe you?"
His eyes held hers, and the air between them went thick with something that had nothing to do with violence.
"You owe me a chance," he said finally. "When this is over. When Trevor's dead and you're safe and you can think about something other than survival. You owe me a chance to show you that not everyone breaks their promises."
Mandy's breath caught. It wasn't a declaration—not yet—but it was the closest thing to one she'd ever received. A chance. A future. Something beyond the next threat, the next fight.
"Okay," she whispered. "You've got it."
Riot nodded, satisfied, and stepped back. The intensity in his gaze dimmed to something more manageable, though the heat underneath never fully disappeared.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be long—Patriot will want a debrief, plans to make. You're going to need your strength."
"What about you?"
"I'll be here." He nodded toward the floor outside her door. "Anyone comes up those stairs, they go through me first."
"Riot, you can't sleep on the floor—"
"Watch me." That stubborn set to his jaw again, the one that said arguing was pointless. "You're in there, I'm out here. That's how this works."
She should have pushed harder. Should have insisted on some other arrangement, something that didn't involve him spending the night on cold concrete to guard her door.
But the truth was, knowing he was there made the fear smaller. Made the darkness waiting behind her eyes less terrifying. Made the compound walls feel like safety instead of just another cage.
"Goodnight, Riot." She paused in the doorway, looking back at him. "And... thank you. For keeping your promise."
"Always." The word was rough. Absolute. "Get some rest, sunshine. I'll be here when you wake up."
She closed the door and climbed into the narrow bed, pulling the worn quilt up to her chin. The mattress was lumpy and the pillow smelled like industrial detergent, but it was the most comfortable she'd felt in weeks.
Through the door, she could hear Riot settling onto the floor. The rustle of his jacket. The creak of him leaning back against the wall.
He was there. Right there. Between her and anything that might come through that door.
She was safe here. For the first time since Kyle Renner had shown up at her apartment, she was actually safe.
Mandy closed her eyes and let herself almost believe it.