I lock the screen and shove the phone under the pillow. Maybe he’s right. Maybe the past always finds you. But maybe—just maybe—you find people who make the past matter less.
I think about Saint’s words. The way he said no one would hurt me while he was breathing. Maybe home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person who shows up on a dark road and refuses to leave you behind.
When I wake again, sunlight pours through the window. Morning. Means I overslept.
My stomach growls. Outside my room, I hear laughter and the sound of someone cooking—bacon, coffee, voices I don’t recognize.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and crack the door open.
Following the scent, I get to a small kitchen where the table is crowded with food. Ava waves me over with a big smile. Ghost stands near the counter, arms crossed like a statue, nodding once when our eyes meet.
Another man sits on a stool by the bar, a grease-stained rag draped over his shoulder. His beard is streaked with silver and his arms are thick with old tattoos. He tips his chin at me in greeting.
“You’re Saint’s girl,” he says, voice gravelly but kind. “I'm Diesel. I’ll get your car fixed up better than new.”
“Thank you,” I manage.
He shrugs. “That’s what I do. Cars. Bikes. Sometimes people.”
And then—Saint.
He’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, clean shirt clinging to his chest, hair still damp from a shower. But it’s his eyes that get me. The second I step into the room, they lock on mine like he’s been waiting. Like he felt me coming before he saw me.
I move without thinking, meeting him halfway.
“Morning,” he says softly.
“Morning. I can’t believe I slept so long.”
His hand lifts, fingers brushing a stray piece of hair behind my ear. It’s such a gentle gesture for a man like him. My stomach flips.
“You sleep okay?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“Good. We found out who gave your number to your stepfather.”
I freeze. “Who?”
“Your former roommate’s boyfriend. He works part-time at the county jail. Overheard something he shouldn’t have. Sold it. He’s been handled.”
I swallow. “You mean he’s—”
“No longer a risk,” he says, calm and final. “That’s all you need to know.”
This world Saint lives in is hard-edged. Absolute. It should scare me.
Maybe it does. But more than that, it makes me feel protected in a way I didn’t know I needed.
“What about my stepfather?”
“He’s still inside, but he just lost access to the outside world. Solitary by the end of the day. His assets? Frozen. No more strings to pull.”
Relief punches the air out of my lungs. I blink fast.
Saint touches my chin, tilting it up gently until I meet his eyes.
“Look at me,” he murmurs. “You’re not alone anymore. You’ve got a whole club behind you. And you’ve got me.”
