Chapter 15 #2
Eventually Zay pulls out carefully and rolls us so I'm sprawled on top of him instead of being crushed into the questionable carpet. His arms come around me immediately, holding me close against his chest where I can hear his heartbeat still racing.
"You okay?" he murmurs into my hair, one hand stroking lazily up and down my spine.
"Yeah." I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "More than okay."
We lie there in comfortable silence for a while, just breathing together, my fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin while his do the same on mine.
This is my favorite part sometimes—not the sex, though the sex is incredible, but this.
The after. The quiet intimacy of being held by someone who knows all my broken pieces and chooses to stay anyway.
Zay's phone rings, shattering the moment. He groans but reaches for his jeans to fish it out of the pocket, squinting at the screen. "It's Jackie."
"Answer it," I say, already rolling off him even though I'd rather stay right where I am forever.
He puts it on speaker. "Yeah?"
"Zay." Jackie's voice is tight with stress. "I need you back ASAP. The Vipers just sent a message. A very clear, very violent message. Three of our guys are in the hospital. George's bar is on fire. This is escalating fast."
My stomach drops. The war between the Raiders and the Vipers has been getting worse over the past four months—territory disputes turning into actual violence, protection rackets becoming battlegrounds, the kind of escalation that ends with bodies in alleys and funerals for people too young to die.
"I'm on my way," Zay says immediately, already sitting up, already shifting into the version of himself that belongs to the club instead of to me. "Twenty minutes."
"Make it ten if you can. Xavier's calling an emergency meeting." A pause. "Is Val there?"
"Yeah, I'm here," I call out, trying to keep my voice steady even though hearing Xavier's name still makes my chest ache.
"Hey, sweetheart. You staying safe?"
"As safe as I can be in this neighborhood," I reply, forcing some lightness into my tone even though the anxiety is already building.
The Vipers know where I live—not officially, but information like that has a way of spreading when there's a war on.
And I'm vulnerable here, alone, without the protection of the club I'm no longer affiliated with.
"Good. Keep your doors locked. Don't answer for anyone you don't know." Jackie's voice softens slightly. "We've got eyes on your building. If anything happens, we'll know."
The knowledge that they're still protecting me despite everything should be comforting. Instead it just makes me feel more alone—like I'm some responsibility they haven't figured out how to shed yet instead of someone they actually want around.
Zay hangs up and starts pulling on his clothes with quick, efficient movements. I watch him from the floor, still naked, anxiety curling in my stomach like smoke.
"You okay?" he asks, catching my expression as he zips his jeans.
"Fine," I lie, pulling my knees to my chest in a way that probably broadcasts exactly how not-fine I am.
"Val." He crouches down beside me, catches my chin to make me look at him. "Talk to me."
"I just—" I swallow hard against the fear trying to climb up my throat. "I don't like being alone when things are heating up with the Vipers. I know that's stupid, I know I can take care of myself, but—"
"It's not stupid." He kisses me, soft and sweet and completely at odds with the rough way he just fucked me. "And you won't be alone for long. I promise. Either me or Asher will be back here by morning. Before you wake up, even. You won't be alone."
The promise settles something in my chest, makes the anxiety marginally more bearable. "Okay."
"Okay." He kisses me again, this time letting it linger, his tongue sweeping into my mouth in a way that makes me wish he didn't have to leave, that we could just stay here on this dubious carpet pretending the outside world doesn't exist.
But he does have to leave. The club needs him. Xavier needs him. And I'm just the girl they're protecting out of obligation, out of some lingering sense of responsibility that hasn't quite died despite everything.
Zay must sense where my thoughts are going because he kisses his way down my jaw to my neck, teeth scraping against my pulse point in a way that makes me shiver. "Stop spiraling," he murmurs against my skin. "I can practically hear your brain overthinking from here."
"I'm not—"
"You are." Another kiss, this one on the sensitive spot just below my ear.
"But here's what you're going to do. You're going to lock the door behind me.
You're going to get in bed. You're going to sleep.
And when you wake up, either me or Ash will be here making you breakfast and reminding you that you're not alone. "
"Promise?"
"I promise." He pulls back to look at me, his eyes serious despite the gentle smile on his lips. "One of us will be here by morning. You have my word."
I nod, not quite trusting my voice.
He stands and helps me up, pulls me into one more hug that I sink into with probably too much desperation. "I love you," he murmurs into my hair, and even after months of hearing it, the words still make my chest tight with emotion I don't know how to name.
"I love you too," I whisper back, meaning it completely even as part of me aches for the person I can't say those words to anymore.
Zay leaves with one last kiss and a reminder to lock the door. I do, turning the deadbolt and the chain with hands that are already starting to shake now that I'm alone. The apartment feels bigger without him in it, colder, the beige walls pressing in with their sad neutrality.
I make it to the bedroom and crawl under the covers still naked because finding clothes feels like too much effort. The sheets smell like Zay—woodsy cologne and clean sweat and safety—and I bury my face in the pillow trying to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible.
But as always happens when I'm alone in the dark, my thoughts drift to Xavier.
I still dream about him almost every night. I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin, can still hear the way he used to say my name like it was something precious. The memory of him telling me to get out, of him saying I was no longer his, still cuts just as deep as it did that first day.
I wonder if he thinks about me at all. If he lies awake at night missing me the way I miss him, or if he's moved on completely, found someone else to fill the space I used to occupy.
I wonder if he hates me less now or more, if time has softened his anger or hardened it into something permanent and unforgiving.
I wonder if I'll ever stop loving him, or if this is just my life now—carrying this ache everywhere I go, feeling the absence of him like a phantom limb that still hurts despite being gone.
Sleep pulls at me eventually, dragging me down into dreams that are always the same. Xavier's hands on my body. Xavier's voice in my ear telling me I'm his. Xavier looking at me with love instead of devastation, with warmth instead of the cold shutdown that ended everything.
But even in my dreams, even in the fantasy where he forgives me and takes me back and we find our way through the wreckage of what I did, there's guilt.
So much guilt. Because he should hate me.
I killed his brother. I lied about it for weeks.
I destroyed his trust in the most fundamental way possible.
His hatred is justified. His anger is earned. And no amount of wishing things were different will change the fact that I deserve exactly what I got