The contact burns. I nod, throat too tight to speak. But I don’t let go of him right away. His breath fans against my cheek, and for a split second, I think he might kiss me. This time, he does. His lips press to mine, fierce and urgent. Not a goodbye but a promise. The kind you feel in your bones.
When he pulls back, my fingers are still curled in his cut. I let him go. Only because I have to.
He pulls back and signals to Kyle. “Get a couple of the prospects from the shop. I want eyes on every door.”
“Already on it,” Kyle says, moving.
Malachi turns back to us, eyes sweeping the room. “They protect you with everything. No questions. If anything looks off,you call me. You don’t try to play hero. Not this time.” His eyes find mine again. “Promise me, Sour Patch.”
“I promise,” I whisper.
He gives me one more look, something deeper than fear. A tether. A vow. Then he’s out the door, the other guys following in a rush of footsteps and steel.
The sound of engines tearing into the street rattles the windows. And just that fast… they’re gone. The silence that follows feels too loud.
Ruby exhales slowly. “Well. So much for game night.”
But no one laughs this time.
I move toward the front window, watching the bikes disappear around the corner. My hands are shaking. Not just because Donovan’s resurfaced. Not just because of what this could mean. But because this? This is our life now. Waiting. Watching. Hoping we all come home.
I press a hand over my heart, still feeling the echo of Malachi’s goodbye against my skin.Please come back to me. Please don’t let this be the time we break.
We stand there in the clubhouse, still tense, still waiting. No one’s talking anymore. The air feels thick with the kind of stillness that holds its breath with us.
Ruby paces by the window. Frankie’s tapping her pen against her thigh. Sloane’s arms are crossed, jaw tight. Darla keeps checking her phone, hoping a faster refresh might deliver good news. Maggie’s setting out mugs again, using warm drinks to anchor us to something real.
I’m still standing where Malachi left me, the echo of his voice playing on a loop in my head. Stay safe. You hear me? I do. But I hate this. This waiting, this helplessness. The knowing without the doing.
Then—BOOM.
The windows shake. Glass rattles in the frames. The floor beneath us gives a sickening lurch, the kind that hits deep and heavy, like something massive just tore through the earth.
One of the overhead lights swings on its chain. Ruby lets out a startled, “What the hell was that?”
Screams ring out from outside. A car alarm wails.
My ears are ringing. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Because I know, I know in my bones, that explosion has Donovan written all over it.
Then... all of our phones go off at once. That high-pitched blare. Emergency alert. My stomach drops as I fumble to pull mine from my pocket.
EMERGENCY ALERT: There has been a bombing. Please remain calm and remain where you are currently located. More details will be released soon.
“Oh my god,” Sloane breathes. Her hand flies to her mouth.
Maggie is already grabbing her phone, dialing someone. Frankie sinks into the arm of the couch, eyes wide but steady.
“Holy shit,” Ruby whispers, reading her phone. “This is real. This is right now.”
“What if they were near it?” Darla’s voice cracks on the last word. “What if—”
“They’ll be okay,” I say, but it feels more prayer than promise.
My chest is too tight. My pulse is everywhere; in my ears, in my throat, in the tips of my fingers. I sink down onto the edge of the couch, my hands shaking so badly I almost drop my phone.
The clubhouse feels too small. The walls are closing in.Please be okay, Malachi. Please, all of you, come back.Ruby drops next to me and grabs my hand without a word. Because that’s what this is now. No more charades. No more games.
This is war. I’m not sure we’re ready. But I know this. If he comes back to me, I’ll never let him go again. If he doesn’t? I close my eyes, gripping the phone with the desperation ofsomeone clinging to a lifeline, and start to tap a beat against my leg.
