Chapter 5 - Amy
"Dead."
Charles is dead. The bastard who ordered my beatings, who planned to "make an example" of me, who treated women like we were just items on a shelf—gone.
I should feel something. Relief. Satisfaction.
Anything. But all I feel is numb, like someone took sandpaper to my emotions and wore them down to nothing.
Kelly squeezes my hand so hard it almost hurts. I wonder if she feels this weird emptiness too. Shouldn't endings feel more... final? Instead, I feel like I'm standing at the edge of a cliff in the dark, no idea what's waiting at the bottom.
The bikers are all business now: checking weapons, mounting bikes, exchanging brief words. No high-fives or backslapping. Just men who did what needed doing and now need to disappear before the consequences come knocking.
I catch Viper looking at me. He's filthy.
Soot on his face, blood splattered across his leather cut, but somehow still striking.
Our eyes lock, and something zips between us.
Not romantic, exactly. More like recognition.
Like we both know what it's like to stare into the dark and come out different on the other side.
"Police will be here soon," Reaper barks, already on his bike. "Time to move."
Blade guides Kelly to his motorcycle, his hand lingering at her waist a beat too long. She wraps her arms around him without hesitation, leaning into him like they've done this a hundred times before. My eyebrows shoot up despite my swollen face. Well, that's new.
Viper walks over to me, moving slow and deliberate like I'm a spooked animal he doesn't want to startle.
"You'll ride with me," he says, his voice gentler than before. "You okay with that? With your injuries?"
I straighten up, ignoring how my ribs scream in protest. "I'm good."
He studies me with those sharp green eyes, like he can see right through my bullshit. "Tell me if anything hurts too much. We can stop."
It catches me off guard, this hint of consideration from a man who probably has other people's blood under his fingernails.
These guys just shot their way through a compound, killed God knows how many Vultures MC, and now they're running from sirens, but he's worried about my comfort? Is he really a bad guy?
"I'm tougher than I look," I say, trying to smile but wincing when my split lip stretches.
"Yeah," he says simply. "I know."
He leads me to his bike. Sleek, black, all power and danger, and hands me a helmet. "Ever been on one before?"
"Nope."
"Hold onto me," he instructs, swinging his leg over. "Lean when I lean. Don't fight the bike."
I climb on behind him. My thighs bracket his, my chest pressed against his back, my arms with nowhere to go but around his waist. He's lean but solid, all muscle beneath my hands.
The engine roars to life between my legs, and holy shit, the vibration goes through my entire body. It's terrifying and thrilling all at once, like nothing I've ever felt before.
"Ready?" he asks over his shoulder.
I tighten my grip around his waist in answer. Viper kicks the stand and follows the others, our little convoy of outlaws speeding away from the burning compound and the wailing sirens.
The wind slams into us as we pick up speed, forcing me to plaster myself against Viper's back.
Despite everything—the pain, the fear, the uncertainty—there's something stupidly freeing about this.
Racing away from captivity with my arms wrapped around a dangerous man, the world blurring into streaks of color around us.
We stick to back roads, avoiding highways where cops might set up roadblocks. The powerful engine thrums between my thighs, sending weird sensations through my beaten-up body. Not exactly pleasure, but definitely not pain. Something new, something waking up.
I lose track of time. The world narrows down to Viper's breathing against my arms and the changing landscape around us. Eventually, the bikes slow down, turning onto a hidden road that winds through thick trees before opening up to a sprawling property surrounded by a tall fence.
A sign at the gate reads "OUTLAW ORDER MC".
Armed guys stand guard, nodding at Reaper as he leads us through.
On the other side is what looks like their own little compound, a big main building with smaller ones scattered around it, all built solid from concrete and wood.
Men and a few women stop what they're doing to watch us roll in.
The bikes circle up in front of the main building. When the engines cut off, the quiet hits me like a slap.
"Welcome to the clubhouse," Viper says, pulling off his helmet. "You'll be safe here."
Safe. Such a simple word for something that feels like a distant memory.
I slide off the bike awkwardly, my muscles stiff from the ride and my injuries screaming at me. Viper dismounts with easy grace, then offers his hand to steady me. I take it without thinking, surprised by how natural it feels.
Kelly rushes over and throws her arms around me so hard I can't help but wince.
"Sorry," she mumbles, loosening her grip but not letting go. "I just kept thinking something would happen, that I'd lose you again."
"I'm here," I tell her, hugging her back despite my protesting ribs. "We both are."
A young woman walks over carrying a medical kit. She can't be much older than Kelly, maybe early twenties, but her eyes look like they've seen some shit.
"I'm Evelyn," she says with a gentle smile. "Let's get you inside and check out those injuries."
I glance at Kelly, who nods. "She helped me when I first got here too."
Evelyn leads us into the clubhouse while the men huddle outside. The inside surprises me. It's clean and well-kept, with worn but comfortable furniture, pool tables, a fully stocked bar, and motorcycle stuff on the walls. Masculine, but not gross or threatening.
She takes us to a back room set up like a mini clinic.
"We keep this ready," she explains, gesturing for me to sit on the exam table. "Hospitals ask too many questions."
As Evelyn cleans the cuts on my face, I study her. There's something in her eyes I recognize. The look of someone who's seen how ugly people can be and lived to tell about it.
"You were one of them," I say quietly. "Before. Like us."
She doesn't stop working, but her eyes meet mine steadily. "Yeah. Reaper rescued me. I was being auctioned off." She says it matter-of-factly, no self-pity. "The club raided the place and killed everyone involved."
"And now you're with him? The president?" I can't hide my surprise. She's barely older than me, and Reaper's obviously in his forties.
A small smile tugs at her lips. "It happened fast. Sometimes the person you least expect turns out to be exactly who you need." She dabs antiseptic on a deep cut, making me hiss. "Sorry. This one needs stitches."
Kelly hovers nearby, worrying her bottom lip. "How bad is she?"
"I've seen worse," Evelyn says honestly. "Two, maybe three cracked ribs. Lots of bruising. The cut on your cheekbone needs stitches, and we should watch for concussion with that swelling around your eye." She looks at me directly. "I have to ask. Did they sexually assault you?"
Kelly gasps at the bluntness, but I appreciate Evelyn cutting through the bullshit.
"No," I answer. "Mike wanted to, but Charles was saving me for something... worse. Some kind of 'lesson' for Kelly's escape that he wanted to deliver personally." I swallow hard. "They were keeping me 'presentable' until the swelling went down."
Evelyn nods, clearly relieved. "Small mercies. Let's get those ribs wrapped and that cut stitched, then get some food in you and let you rest."
The door opens while she's working, and Viper walks in. He's cleaned up, the blood and soot gone, his dark hair still damp from a shower.
"How is she?" he asks Evelyn, not looking at me.
"She'll heal," Evelyn answers. "Tougher than she looks."
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "I know."
Kelly clears her throat, giving me a look with raised eyebrows that I pretend not to see.
"Reaper wants to talk to you both when you're ready," Viper says. "Nothing urgent. Just to discuss what happens next."
What happens next. The question I've been avoiding since we escaped. Where do we go from here? What life can Kelly and I possibly build after all this?
"I'll finish up here," Evelyn says, threading a needle for my stitches. "Give us fifteen minutes."
Viper nods, hesitating at the door like he wants to say something else. Instead, he just says, "I'll be outside when you're ready," and slips out.
Kelly waits until the door closes before giving me a pointed look. "What was that?"
"What was what?" I try to sound innocent, wincing as Evelyn starts the first stitch.
"That," Kelly gestures toward the door. "The intense eye contact. The whole silent conversation thing."
"There was no 'thing,'" I protest weakly.
Evelyn smiles but keeps quiet, focusing on her work.
"Uh-huh," Kelly sounds completely unconvinced. "Well, when you're ready to admit there was definitely a 'thing,' I'll be here to say I told you so."
I shake my head at my sister for a moment, noticing something lighter about her, something that wasn't there before.
"Speaking of 'things,' what's going on with you and Blade? You two seem... cozy."
Kelly's cheeks flush pink, but she doesn't deny it. "It happened fast. He found me on that road, saved me from the Vultures MC who were after me. He's been... protective."
"Protective," I repeat, raising an eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"He's a good man, Amy," she says defensively. "I know it sounds crazy after only two days, but there's something between us. Something real."
I reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Hey, I'm not judging. If anyone deserves something good after all this shit, it's you. But…aren’t you afraid? He’s a bad guy, too."