Chapter 14
The compound looked different in daylight.
Riot sat on the roof's edge, legs dangling over the side, watching brothers move through the courtyard below. They were rebuilding already—patching bullet holes, replacing the gate Trevor's men had smashed through, erasing the evidence of war like it was just another Tuesday.
Maybe it was. Maybe that's what life in the Sons looked like—violence and recovery, destruction and reconstruction, the endless cycle of protecting what mattered.
He heard footsteps behind him and didn't turn. He knew the sound of her walk by now.
"Found you." Mandy settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. She was wearing one of his shirts, the fabric swimming on her small frame, and something primal purred in his chest at the sight. His clothes. His woman.
"Wasn't hiding."
"Could've fooled me." She bumped his shoulder. "I woke up alone. Didn't love that."
"Couldn't sleep." He stared out at the city skyline—Philadelphia spreading toward the horizon, all row houses and church steeples and the distant glint of the Delaware. "Brain wouldn't shut off."
"Want to talk about it?"
The question was simple. The answer wasn't.
Riot turned his hands over, studying the damage.
Split knuckles, bruised fingers, the permanent calluses from years of hitting things.
These hands had killed two men yesterday.
Had killed Kyle Renner a week before that.
Had hurt more people than he could count, going all the way back to a Kensington apartment and a man who wouldn't stop hitting his mother.
"You ever wonder why I'm like this?" he asked. "The energy, the fighting, the part of me that can't seem to stop once it starts?"
"I've wondered." Mandy's voice was soft. "But I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."
He wasn't ready. Might never be ready. But she'd killed for him yesterday, bled for him, stood beside him in a war zone and refused to break. She deserved the truth.
"My mom had terrible taste in men." The words came out flat, matter-of-fact. Easier that way. "After my dad left, she cycled through boyfriends like they were disposable. Most of them were fine. Some of them weren't."
Mandy's hand found his, her fingers threading through his battered ones.
"The ones who weren't fine... they liked to use their fists. On her. Sometimes on me, when I got in the way." Riot's jaw tightened. "I was too small to stop it for years. Had to just sit there and listen to her cry through the walls, knowing there wasn't a damn thing I could do."
"Riot..."
"I swore I'd get big enough to protect her.
Trained every day, fought every kid who looked at me wrong, turned myself into something that could fight back.
" He laughed, bitter and sharp. "And then one day, I was fifteen and one of her boyfriends—Carl, I think his name was—he hit her in front of me.
Right there in the kitchen. And I just.. . snapped."
He could still feel it. The red haze descending, the world narrowing to a single point. His fists against Carl's face, again and again, until someone pulled him off.
"I almost killed him. Would have, if the neighbors hadn't called the cops.
" Riot turned to meet Mandy's eyes, letting her see all of it—the shame, the fear, the part of him that still didn't regret it.
"That's what's inside me. That's the thing I can't control.
The fear of becoming exactly like those men while trying to stop them. "
Silence stretched between them. Riot waited for the horror. The careful distance. The moment when she realized she'd given her heart to a monster.
Instead, she lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to his scarred knuckles.
"You're nothing like them," she said quietly.
"How do you know that?"
"Because they hurt people who couldn't fight back.
People who trusted them. People who loved them.
" Her eyes were fierce in the morning light.
"You fight for people who can't protect themselves.
You put yourself between me and death without a second thought.
That's not the same thing. That's the opposite thing. "
Something cracked in Riot's chest. A wall he'd been building for years, brick by brick, suddenly developing fault lines.
"The violence doesn't scare you?"
"The violence is part of you. I love all of you." She squeezed his hand. "Besides, I've got my own damage. You don't have a monopoly on traumatic childhoods."
He turned toward her, giving her his full attention. "Tell me."
Mandy was quiet for a moment, staring out at the city. When she spoke, her voice was distant. Remembering.
"I was in the foster system from age four. My mom overdosed; my dad was never in the picture. Twelve different homes before I aged out at eighteen." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Some of them were fine. Some of them really weren't."
Riot's hands curled into fists. The urge to find every person who'd ever hurt her and make them bleed was overwhelming.
"The bad ones taught me that no one was coming to save me.
That if I wanted to survive, I had to make myself useful.
Likeable. Impossible to throw away." Her smile softened into something more genuine.
"That's where the cleaning thing started, actually.
I figured out early that if I kept the house spotless, if I made myself indispensable, they were less likely to send me back. "
"Jesus, Mandy."
"It's fine. I mean, it's not fine—it was terrible—but it made me who I am.
" She turned to face him, her expression open and honest. "When I aged out, I had seventeen dollars and a duffel bag.
No family, no safety net, no one in the world who gave a damn whether I lived or died.
And I told myself I was going to build a life anyway.
That I wasn't going to let the system break me. "
"And you did it."
"I did it." Pride flickered across her face.
"Six years of scrubbing toilets and making friends and proving that I was worth something.
Every client on my list represents someone who trusted me.
Someone who let me into their home, into their life.
" Her voice cracked slightly. "Trevor tried to use that against me.
Tried to make my strength into a weakness. But he failed."
"He failed because you're stronger than he ever expected."
"He failed because you found me." She reached up and touched his face, palm warm against his jaw.
"I spent my whole life being optimistic because it was the only armor I had.
Smiling through the fear because breaking down wasn't an option.
And then you came along, and for the first time, I didn't have to pretend. "
Riot covered her hand with his, pressing her palm harder against his face. Grounding himself in her touch.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you see me. The real me. Not the cheerful house cleaner who makes everyone comfortable, but the terrified girl underneath who's been fighting to survive since she was four years old." Tears glistened in her eyes. "You don't need me to smile through the pain. You just need me to be honest."
"That's all I've ever wanted." His voice came out rough. "Just you. No masks, no armor, no bullshit. Just you."
"Same." She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his. "That's why this works. We're both damaged. Both built ourselves into something that could survive. And somehow, we found each other."
They sat there for a long moment, breathing together, the morning sun warming their skin. Below them, the compound bustled with recovery. Brothers laughed and cursed and went about the business of putting their world back together.
But up here, on the roof, it was just the two of them. Two broken people who'd somehow made something whole.
"You know what the crazy thing is?" Riot said finally.
"What?"
"The noise in my head. The restless energy that never stops. The violence that's always scratching at the walls." He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. "When I'm with you, it goes quiet."
Her breath caught. "Quiet?"
"Not gone. Never gone. But... manageable.
Like you're the thing I was always fighting to find.
The purpose I needed to make it all make sense.
" He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall.
"You make the chaos quiet, Mandy. You make me feel like I'm not a monster. "
The tears fell faster now, but she was smiling. Really smiling, not the armor-smile but the genuine one that lit up her whole face.
"You make me feel safe," she whispered. "Not because you protect me—though you do. But because you see me. The real me. And you don't run away."
"Never." He kissed her softly, gently, a promise sealed with touch. "I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."
She melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her body fitting against his like they'd been designed for each other. Riot held her close and felt something shift in his chest. The walls that had been cracking finally crumbled, leaving something raw and new in their place.
Love. Real love. The kind he'd never thought he deserved.
They stayed on the roof until the sun climbed high, talking about nothing and everything, sharing the small stories that made up a life.
His first fight in the schoolyard. Her first client who became a friend.
The moment he'd seen her for the first time and known, somehow, that everything was about to change.
"We should go down," Mandy said eventually. "Patriot probably has plans to make. Wars to win."
"Probably." Riot didn't move. "Don't want to."
"Me neither." She grinned up at him, that fierce spark he loved. "But the sooner we take care of Trevor, the sooner we can start building something real."
"We already have something real."
"Something more real, then." She kissed him again, quick and sweet. "A life. A future. All the things I never let myself want."
Riot stood and pulled her up with him, keeping her close. The city stretched before them—their city, their territory, the place they'd both claimed as home.
"Let's go end this," he said.
Mandy's smile was steel and fire.
"Let's."