Chapter 6
EVERLY
Christmas music is playing when I step into the Savage Reign living room, and it feels like some kind of cruel joke.
Not because the song is wrong. Who doesn’t love Bing Crosby, right? And it’s not because the decorations are too much or the laughter coming from the kitchen sounds fake.
It doesn’t. But this place does not reflect the hell this night has been. I look around and can not see any tension or worry among the Savage crew. Or the women.
I’m standing here with snow melted into my hair, gunpowder in my pores, and three years’ worth of sins stacked on my shoulders like bricks… while a warm fire crackles in the stone hearth and the air smells like browned butter, cinnamon, and something savory that makes my stomach ache with hunger.
I don’t know if I want to cry, beg for forgiveness, or ask Phantom to stop at the nearest gas station so I can run far and fast with my daughter.
This life is not for her.
My father made it very clear the second he found out his second child betrayed him like his first, he would put them in the ground.
Well. I did that in spades in his eyes. And if he finds out his granddaughter is the child of a Savage… there is no telling what he will do to us. It’s why I’ve stayed away.
But my brother needs me. I side-eye at Phantom as he talks with Reaper, his president. I hate being blackmailed, but here we are.
My brother has caused me a lot of grief, but family is family and Micah is only trying to do the right thing. In our father’s eyes, Micah is the only one of his children who hasn’t betrayed him and we all paid the price for his choices.
Now I’m paying again, only this time I’m paying in heartbeats and bullets and the way Phantom’s hand is still burning into mine like he has a claim he never stopped believing in.
Thirty minutes ago, I’m in his SUV with Kaylee curled up between us, fighting sleep like it’s a personal enemy. Phantom drives one-handed through the storm like he owns the road, and with his other hand he holds mine, thumb rubbing slow circles into my skin like he’s grounding himself.
Like he’s grounding me.
The whole drive over, my daughter asks a million questions in a whispery, stubborn little voice that sounds like mine but carries his calm.
“Why do you smell like smoke?”
Phantom glances at her in the rearview mirror, eyes softer than I remember. “Because I was near a fire tonight, baby girl.”
“Who put that scar on your cheek?”
She cuts a few syllables here and there like toddlers do while learning to speak that has Phantom smiling.
His jaw tightens, but his voice stays even when he goes to answer her. “A bad man a long time ago.”
“Do you know my mommy?”
The question punches straight through me. I stare out the window so she won’t see my face break or the freaking tears in my eyes.
Phantom’s hand squeezes mine. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know your mommy.”
“Are you my friend, too? I like friends.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “She never met anyone she didn’t like.”
He exhales like he’s been waiting his whole damn life to earn that title. “I’m your friend forever.”
“Shh now, baby girl,” I whisper, kissing her forehead when she finally slumps against my coat. “Rest. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m not tired,” she mumbles all the while her eyes are drifting closed again.
If she asks any more questions, my tears won’t be able to hold.
We pass through the parish roads like ghosts, the snow turning the bayou edges into a black-and-white nightmare. Then the compound appears out of the darkness the way it always does, like it’s rising out of the land instead of sitting on it.
High walls. Floodlights. Cameras that track movement. A wrought-iron gate guarded by men who look like they were built in a war zone and never learned how to relax afterward.
The tires crunch over gravel as we ease past the gate. A familiar smell hits me next, even through the closed windows.
Woodsmoke. Leather. Diesel. Wet earth. Pine from the trees and something faintly metallic that always clings to places where violence lives.
Phantom slows and rolls down the window. A prospect leans down, checks the interior with a quick scan, then his gaze lands on me and Kaylee. His brows shoot up, but he doesn’t ask questions. He just nods like he understands that whatever this is, it’s above his position within the crew.
The gate opens with a groan that vibrates through my bones.
We drive in, and the compound unfolds beyond the walls like a kingdom Savage Reign built with blood and stubbornness.
The plantation mansion is fortified, historic beauty wrapped in winter’s hold.
There’s a wide, welcoming porch. Thick pillars on either side of the entrance.
Windows that look decorative until you notice the reinforced frames.
To the right of the entrance is a huge garage with the door left open.
Bikes lined up like loyal beasts at rest. SUVs tucked into the shadows.
The main house glows with warm light like it’s inviting you in, while the land around it stays dark and watchful.
Home.
My heart swells with all the pain that’s lived in there for so damn long. The truth is this is not mine. Not anymore.
Phantom parks and kills the engine. For a second, none of us move. Kaylee’s breathing is soft and steady. My pulse is not.
“You ready?” Phantom asks in a husky voice.
I’d looked at him then, exhausted and bitter and terrified. “No, but you blackmailed me, so here we are.”
He didn’t deserve that.
But it’s easier keeping up a wall when it comes time to walk away.
He’d turned his head just enough to flash me a dark look that said if we were alone, he would treat me to his special brand of punishment.
Rough hands. Harsher kisses. No mercy until I saw things his way.
Mm. Tempting.
I’d touched my lips unconsciously, hating myself for it, and I didn’t even realize I did it until a dark smirk lifted the corner of his mouth like he could read every filthy thought I tried to bury.
Now he’s moving with quiet purpose, lifting Kaylee carefully into his arms like she weighs nothing, like he’s done this a hundred times.
Like he was made to be her daddy.
He carries her into the house, and I follow with my heart in my throat.
The moment we step inside, sound and warmth slam into me.
Christmas music humming low from speakers tucked somewhere above the rafters. Laughter rolling out from the kitchen. The clink of glass. The scent of food is so good it makes my mouth water and my eyes sting at the same time.
I’m painfully aware of myself. My clothes. The grit under my nails. The faint smell of smoke and gunpowder clinging to my hair.
I’m painfully aware of what I did three years ago, too. And frankly, I’ll be honest here. I’m tired. Bone tired.
And then Phantom walks into the living room with my sleeping daughter in his arms, and the entire house changes in a heartbeat.
He stops just inside, gaze sweeping the room like a warning. “Be quiet,” he says, voice low but absolute. “The baby’s asleep.”
My pulse spikes at the protective tone to his words.
Silence hits like someone reached over and flicked a switch off.
Shit. That is so not what I wanted. I tremble as everyone’s eyes fall on me and then jump to my daughter.
Then everything fast forwards and the Savage living room turns into a rush of chaos.
Someone gasps. That’s Storm, I see.
Another Savage swears. Beast. He gives me a wink and a two-finger salute as welcome.
A chair scrapes across polished wood. Haze. Savages. Hacker. He grabs a sandwich off a nearby table and his laptop in the other. Before he leaves, he dips his head and then vanishes around the corner. He never was one for group events.
And then Charli appears like a force of nature, pushing through bodies with a grin so big it looks like it might split her face.
“Everly?” she breathes, like she’s not sure I’m real.
I barely get my arms up before she’s on me, hugging me hard enough to bruise, and I deserve it. I deserve to be shaken. I deserve to be screamed at.
But she just holds me tighter.
“You’re freezing,” she scolds, hands sliding up my arms like she’s checking me for injuries. “You look like you got dragged behind a damn truck.”
I gulp air. It’s better than letting all my tears have free rein. “Feels like it,” I manage, my voice thick with all the emotions flooding my system.
Charli pulls back, eyes shining. “We thought you were gone for good.”
I swallow, my throat burning. “I was. I never thought I would be back here.”
Before she can say anything else, the club candy rushes in like I’m some kind of miracle.
Angel Baby is the first one to throw her arms around me, smelling like vanilla lotion and a hint of whiskey. Jinx follows, all sharp eyes and sharper smile, her hug quick but very real. And welcoming.
“You look like hell,” Jinx announces.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
“Welcome back,” she adds, quieter, and something in my chest cracks.
Then Reaper steps in.
The club president doesn’t have to raise his voice.
He doesn’t have to do anything dramatic.
His presence is the kind that fills a space without permission.
Tall. Built for protection and violence.
It’s what he and Phantom have in common.
Reaper has eyes that have seen too much and decided mercy is a privilege. It’s how Phantom says he runs his crew.
He looks at Phantom first, then at Kaylee tucked against Phantom’s chest, then at me.
And his mouth tilts into something that looks suspiciously like approval.
“Good to see you in one piece after tonight,” he offers in a hushed tone.
My breath catches. I didn’t realize until this very second how nice it is to feel seen and cared about. It’s been a long while since anyone cared whether I was dead or alive.
Reaper closes the distance and pulls me into a hug that is careful but firm, like he’s letting me know I’m in the circle even if I don’t think I deserve it. The man is way too perceptive for his own good.