The thought of Tommy discovering my whereabouts sends a chill through me. I remember the look in his eyes after Vincent died. Cold, empty, like whatever humanity he had was gone. He'd described in graphic detail what he'd do if I ever tried to leave him, taking a perverse pleasure in watching me flinch at each escalating threat.
"If you ever run, I’ll find you," he'd promised, his voice almost gentle as he traced a finger along my bruised cheekbone. "And when I do, I'll make sure you can never run again. Maybe I'll start by breaking those pretty ankles of yours."
I shudder at the memory. Tommy isn't just violent. He's methodical in his cruelty. And he has resources, an entire MC with eyes throughout the region.
My heart rate accelerates, sweat beading on my forehead despite the room's comfortable temperature. I force myself to take deep breaths, wincing at the pain in my ribs.
Think rationally. Even if Tommy knows I'm still in town, that doesn't mean he knows where I am. And the Savage Riders' compound is secure. Tank assured me of that. I'm safer here than anywhere else in Blackwater Falls.
But what if they decide I'm too much trouble? What if they verify my information, use it to prepare for tonight's attack, then decide the risk of harboring me outweighs the benefit?
No. Luna wouldn't let that happen. The way she looked at me, with genuine empathy, that wasn't faked. And Rage... he's put himself out on a limb for me, bringing me here, defending me to his brothers.
Thinking of Rage calms me slightly. There's something solid about him, trustworthy despite his intimidating appearance and road name. The gentle way he wrapped my ribs, the respect he showed for my boundaries, the fierce protectiveness when he learned who hurt me… All of it suggests a man with a strong moral code, not the ruthless criminal Tommy described.
A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.
"Claire?" A female voice I don't recognize. "It's Jenny. Can I come in?"
I move to the door and unlock it, opening it to find a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair and a friendly smile.
"Hi," she says. "I'm Jenny. Beast's old lady and Tank's sister. I brought the clothes."
"Thank you," I say, stepping back to let her in. "They fit perfectly."
She enters, her gaze taking in the room and then focusing on my face, briefly registering the bruise before looking away politely. "I wasn't sure what you'd need, so I grabbed a bit of everything."
"It's more than enough." I gesture to the pile on the bed. "I really appreciate it."
Jenny shrugs. "No problem. I remember what it was like when I first got to town. I had nothing but what I could fit in a backpack."
Her easy manner puts me at ease. "You're not from here originally?"
"Nope. I came here with a friend who was running from her abusive ex, actually." Her expression turns serious. "Tank helped us. The whole club did."
This surprises me. "So they... they do this kind of thing regularly? Help women in trouble?"
Jenny considers the question. "Not as a service or anything. But they protect people under their care. Family, friends." She pauses. "People who need it and deserve it." She glances at her watch. "I should go. I have a lot to do."
As she moves toward the door, she pauses. "Just so you know, Rage was really insistent about making sure you had everything you needed. He's a good guy. One of the best in the club."
Before I can respond to this unexpected information, she's gone, closing the door behind her. I move to lock it, my thoughts swirling.
Why would Rage be "insistent" about my comfort? Is it just his nature to be protective, or is there something more to it? And why did Jenny feel the need to tell me this?
I sit on the edge of the bed, fatigue finally catching up with me despite my racing mind. The adrenaline that's kept me going for days is wearing off, leaving me bone-weary and emotionally drained.
I lie down, intending to rest for just a few minutes, but sleep claims me almost immediately. My dreams are a chaotic blend of memories and fears. Tommy's fist connecting with my face, the Eagles surrounding the clubhouse, Rage's gentle hands wrapping my ribs.
I wake with a start, disoriented and panicked until I remember where I am. The clock reads 2:17 PM. I've been asleep for nearly two hours.
A soft knock at the door suggests that's what woke me.
"Claire?" Rage's deep voice. "You awake?"
I sit up quickly, smoothing my hair and clothes. "Yes. Just a minute."
I move to the door and unlock it, opening it to find Rage looking more tired than when I last saw him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his posture suggests someone running on fumes and determination.
