Chapter 33
Sadie
Consciousness returns slowly, as though I’m clawing my way upwards through thick, black tar.
Every thought is muffled beneath a heavy fog that refuses to lift.
For a long time, I don’t even attempt to open my eyes.
My body aches in a way I’ve never experienced before, every muscle protesting as though I’ve been beaten from the inside out, while a deep soreness burns through my throat every time I swallow.
Somewhere nearby, a machine emits a slow, steady rhythm, the repetitive beeping weaving its way into my dreams until I can no longer tell whether I’m asleep or awake.
The smell reaches me before the memories do, antiseptic, fresh linen, and the odor of disinfectant that seems to cling to every hospital I’ve ever visited.
It wraps itself around me, familiar enough that my heart begins to race before I’ve even opened my eyes.
Slowly, painfully, I force my eyelids apart, squinting against the unforgiving white lights overhead.
Everything swims in and out of focus, blurred around the edges, as if I’m underwater.
It takes several long blinks before the ceiling settles into place above me and the room finally stops spinning.
For one blissful moment, I simply lie there, confused but safe, unable to remember why I’m here.
Then it all comes rushing back with a sickening clarity that makes my pulse spike, the monitor frantically beeping in time with my heart.
A strangled sound escapes me, somewhere between a gasp and a sob, and suddenly the room erupts into movement.
Chairs scrape across the floor, footsteps hurry toward me, and the blur surrounding my bed gradually resolves itself into a familiar face.
Shadow doesn’t rush, doesn’t overwhelm me, doesn’t start firing questions the way I know the others desperately want to.
Instead, he simply steps quietly to my bedside, his gray eyes searching my face with the careful, methodical thoroughness I’ve come to associate with him.
He looks exhausted, his dark hair more untidy than usual, the stubble along his jaw noticeably thicker than when I last saw him, as though shaving had become an unnecessary luxury.
There isn’t a single visible injury on him, but somehow, he looks every bit as worn down as the others, and something about that unsettles me more than if he’d arrived covered in bandages.
“Hi,” he says softly, the corners of his mouth lifting into the smallest of smiles. “Welcome back.” His voice sounds rough, as though sleep has eluded him for days.
Only then do I drag my gaze away from him, taking in the rest of the room.
Dash is in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital gown.
For a second, I simply stare, my brain refusing to accept what I’m seeing.
Both of his forearms disappear beneath thick white bandages, angry red burns creeping up toward his elbows where the dressings don’t quite reach.
He looks exhausted, but when he catches me looking, he offers me a grin, but it lacks its usual effortless warmth.
It is the smile of a man who is trying very hard to convince everyone around him that everything is going to be alright, despite not quite believing it himself.
Chief is sitting beside the window, one ankle resting across his opposite knee.
However, the movement is awkward enough that I immediately notice the thick dressing wrapped around his calf beneath the rolled-up leg of his jeans.
Even injured, he radiates that same quiet authority I’ve always associated with him, but he looks older somehow, as if the weight of the past few days has been etched plainly across his face.
Trigger paces relentlessly between the foot of my bed and the window, his bandaged hands opening and closing at his sides as though he’s still searching for somewhere to direct all the fury simmering beneath his skin.
Bruises darken one cheekbone, his bottom lip is split, and there are shadows beneath his eyes so deep they almost look like bruises.
He catches me looking and stops so abruptly that it’s almost painful to watch.
For a heartbeat, neither of us speaks. The anger draining from his face leaves behind something infinitely more difficult to witness. Fear. Pure, unguarded fear.
“You scared the fucking life out of us,” he says quietly, his voice cracking despite the words.
The effort it takes to speak sends fresh pain shooting through my throat. I instinctively reach for my neck, wincing as my fingertips brush the tender skin there before I notice the cannula taped to the back of my hand.
“What…” I manage, my voice little more than a rasp. I swallow carefully, immediately regretting it as another wave of pain flares through my throat. “What happened?”
The question hangs in the room for several long seconds. Nobody seems eager to answer it. They exchange glances instead, each silently waiting for somebody else to begin, and the hesitation alone tells me the truth is worse than anything I can currently remember.
It’s Chief who finally breaks the silence.
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and although his expression remains as composed as ever, I catch the flicker of emotion that passes across his face before he speaks.
“Tyler kidnapped you,” he says quietly. “You were unconscious by the time we reached the house.”
The fragments of memory I still possess refuse to join together into anything coherent.
I remember Tyler offering me a lift, his maniacal rant about saving me, his face twisted with rage, I remember struggling to breathe as he choked me, and I have the vague recollection of the smell of kerosine so strong it burned my nose. After that… nothing.
My son. What happened to him? “Owen—”
“It’s okay,” Chief says. “He’s with Dani. He’s safe.”
“Thank God…” I whisper, looking from one battered face to another. “What happened to all of you?”
They carefully relay what happened, how they chose to go inside and rescue me rather than wait for the police.
How Tyler almost burned the house down with us all inside.
They mention that Trigger was the one who took Tyler down and that Dash and Chief got burned trying to smother the flames while Shadow got me outside.
I can tell there’s a lot they aren’t telling me, that they’re shielding me from the full horror of what happened in that house.
For once, I’m glad of their overprotectiveness.
“Is Tyler… did you?” I gulp, glancing at Trigger. I know that he’s capable of violence. Part of me is afraid to hear the answer.
“Did I kill him?” Trigger asks, eyes narrowing as he comes to a standstill and studies my face.
I nod slowly.
He scrutinizes me for a second longer, as if wondering what my reaction will be. He shakes his head once. “No. I came close. I wanted to… but no. I knew you’d want me to stop.”
He’s right. As much as I hate Tyler for what he did, a part of me feels sorry for him.
He’s sick, and he needs help. I want him to pay for what he’s done, but in the right way.
“The last thing I would want is for you to rot in jail because of that bastard. He’s the one who deserves to be locked up. ”
Trigger nods again slowly, processing. He lets out a breath, shoulders visibly relaxing. “I’m so glad you’re okay. If you hadn’t…” he shakes his head, unable to finish.
I hold out my hand in a silent invitation, and he walks over and takes it. We don’t need to say anything more. Someday, but not now.
“Does Owen know what happened?” The aching yearning to see my son is overwhelming, but I also don’t want to scare him by seeing me in the hospital like this.
“He knows you’re safe,” Shadow assures me. “We figured it was best to tell him as little as possible for the moment. All he knows is that Mommy had to go to the hospital.”
I nod, breathing out slowly and sinking back down onto the pillows. “Good. That’s good.” I know that Owen must have sensed something was wrong, but if I can shield him from the worst of this, I will.
“Ethan and Brielle are there too,” Dash adds, briefly explaining how they helped figure out that it was Tyler who took me, and that Ethan had found out Tyler’s address.
“We feel terrible for how we treated Ethan,” Shadow says quietly. “You were right to be mad at us for it.”
I blink, surprised by the turn of events.
I try to find the words to express how I feel.
How grateful I am to them for saving my life.
How much I regret ever walking out on them.
How much I care about them all. “Thank you. I understand why you did what you did; Ethan will too, I hope, given time.” I look between each of them as I speak.
“I’m so sorry I left. I’m sorry for everything. ”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Trigger says, stroking my hand.
“No, I do. You were just trying to protect me, and look what happened. Owen could have been left without a mother because of my stupidity, my stubbornness, my refusal to let you protect me your way.”
“None of this is your fault,” Chief says fiercely, eyes burning.
Shadow nods. “The only person to blame is Tyler. You shouldn’t have needed protection in the first place.”
I nod slowly, willing myself to believe it. “What happens now?”
“Well, the police will want to interview you, and the doctor will probably want to keep you in for a couple of days,” Chief takes a deep breath, “But after that, you’ll be free to go home.
Tyler isn’t getting out of jail any time soon, not with all the evidence against him. You’re safe, Sadie. It’s over.”
I lie there processing his words. It’s finally over. I can go home. “But what if my house doesn’t feel like home anymore?”
Identical looks of surprised hopefulness cross the guys’ expressions, and I feel an overwhelming desire to kiss all of them for that raw, unfiltered emotion that gives me the courage to continue. “What if my home is with you all, with the Wild Riders?”
There’s a pause, as if they can’t quite believe it.
Dash speaks first, breaking into his signature grin. “Well, of course it is!”
Trigger leans down and kisses me. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that.”
“You have a home at the Wild Riders for as long as you want. You and Owen are family,” Shadow says softly.
“Even if I don’t sign the contract to be your old lady?” I ask, glancing over at Chief.
“Fuck the contract. You’re our old lady, all four of us. We don’t need a piece of paper to know that.” Chief stands, wincing as he walks over to me. “Do you want that?”
Shadow frowns. “Chief, she doesn’t have to answer that right now.”
Trigger shoots Shadow a filthy look.
I smile at him, grateful for his looking out for me. “It’s okay, Shadow; I want to answer. After everything that’s happened, I’ve never felt clearer about what I want. I’m tired of second-guessing it or worrying about what others think. I’m falling for each of you, and I want to be with you all.”
Trigger whoops, hollering like he’s just won the lottery. “Fuck yeah!” he cries, making all of us laugh. If I weren’t in a hospital bed right now, I think he’d be spinning me around the room.
The guys’ enthusiastic kisses and gentle hugs are like a balm for my soul. Their excited chatter attracts the attention of a stern-faced nurse who bustles in and scolds them. The guys are cowed like schoolboys. “Sorry, ma’am,” they mutter, staring at their feet, making me grin.
The nurse shoos Chief, Shadow, and Trigger outside.
Dash remains behind waiting for patient transport to take him back to his room.
They each peck me on the forehead, prompting Dash to ask, “Where’s mine?
” Trigger chuckles and wetly kisses Dash’s head.
Chief and Shadow affectionately flip him off, grinning as they leave, assuring me they’re right outside.
The nurse checks over my vitals and gives me pain meds, issuing strict instructions to rest. “I’ll be back later with the doctor,” she says with a sniff before flouncing off.
The pain meds soon kick in, and exhaustion overwhelms me as I feel my eyelids getting droopy. “I’m glad you’re okay, Sadie. I don’t know what we would have done if…” Dash says softly. I want to open my eyes to look at him, but they’re so heavy.
“S’okay, you rescued me,” I mutter sleepily.
“You rescued us first.”
Sleep comes for me, and when I wake, I can’t be certain whether or not I dreamed his next words.
“I love you, Sadie.”