"You're really a nurse?" Maddie asks, climbing in behind me. Her tone carries skepticism mixed with hope.
I nod, focused on James. "I need to stop this bleeding and re-stitch the wound as soon as possible."
"We've got supplies at the clubhouse," Dice says, sliding into the driver's seat. "Twenty minutes."
The van starts moving, bouncing slightly on the rough service road before turning onto a less-traveled dirt path. James winces with each jolt, his face pale and drawn. I place my hand on his forehead—clammy and too cool. Early shock symptoms.
"I need blankets," I say, my nurse voice taking over. "He's going into shock."
Maddie immediately shrugs off her leather jacket, draping it over James. Another rider who climbed in with us adds his jacket as well.
"Hey," Maddie says, leaning over James with surprising gentleness for someone who moments ago had a gun trained on a man's head. "Don't you dare check out on us now. Not after all this."
James's eyes flutter open, focusing on her with effort. "Maddie. You came."
"Of course I came, idiot. You're my best friend." Her voice is rough with affection. "Been waiting eighteen months for you to get out. Wasn't going to let some Irish thugs ruin our reunion."
A weak smile crosses his face. "Always did have perfect timing."
I press the bandage more firmly against his wound. "Don't talk. Save your strength."
"You don't need to worry anymore, James. We've already dealt with Walsh," Dice continues. "But he had already set this in motion. Vengeful bastard."
"But he won't be back," the other biker adds. "Reaper made that very clear. You're safe."
Relief flashes across James's face, followed quickly by confusion. "But what happened? It's been years since those watches. And why did the whole MC come for me? I'm not a member."
"Because you're family," Dice says simply. "My family makes you their family. That's how it works. And about Walsh... Well, a story for another time. Now, rest, please."
"Thank you," he whispers.
I continue monitoring his pulse, which is rapid but steady. His breathing is labored but not critical. With proper care, he'll recover, though the repeated trauma to his wound increases the risk of infection.
"Where did you learn to stitch like that?" Maddie asks, nodding toward my handiwork on James's wound.
"I'm a registered nurse," I answer, still focused on James. "I work in the prison infirmary."
"Worked," Maddie corrects gently. "Pretty sure that job's in the rearview now."
The reality of my situation hits me anew. My career, my apartment, my life—all gone in the span of a few hours. I swallow hard, pushing down the surge of panic. One crisis at a time.
The van continues down increasingly remote roads, eventually turning onto what appears to be little more than a dirt track through dense trees. After several more minutes, we emerge into a clearing where a large, warehouse-style building stands, flanked by several smaller structures. The property is surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. A dozen motorcycles are parked in a neat row near the main building.
"Home sweet home," Maddie says as the van stops. "For now, at least."
"Where are we?" I ask, looking out at the compound.
"MC property," Dice answers, killing the engine. "Off the grid. Safe."
Several men in leather vests emerge from the main building as we pull up. They gather around the van, faces grim when Dice opens the side door and they see James's condition.
Everything moves quickly after that. Two of the larger men lift James from the van while I stay close, monitoring his wound. We enter the main building, which opens into a large common area with mismatched furniture, a pool table, and a makeshift bar along one wall. The space is filled with more bikers, some playing cards, others cleaning weapons, all looking up as we enter.
"Medical room's ready," a voice calls out, and we're directed down a hallway to a room that's been hastily prepared.
It's basic but functional—a bed, bright overhead lights, a metal table with medical supplies laid out. Nothing like a proper hospital setup, but better than the forest floor.
"Will this work?" Dice asks as they carefully transfer James to the bed.
