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.
