Blade never lets go of me. Not when we stop. Not when doors open and close. Not when engines turn over again. I’m pressed into his side, my head tucked under his chin, his arm locked around me like I might disappear if he loosens his grip even a little.
We drive for hours. The road hums beneath us, steady and hypnotic, and exhaustion creeps in now that my body knows I’m safe. I watch the dark blur past the window and try to convince myself this is real. That I’m not going to wake up in another hotel room with another set of locked doors.
Eventually, Ghost slows and I sit up slightly, my heart jumping into my throat as familiar shapes come into view. The clubhouse. My chest tightens hard. “I thought… I thought it was destroyed.”
Blade looks down at me, his thumb brushing along my jaw. “It was,” he says quietly. “We fixed things while you were gone.” The words hit me like a punch and a hug at the same time.
The SUV barely stops before the doors are flying open. Bella is already running. Brooke is right behind her. I don’t even get my feet on the ground before Bella yanks the door open and pulls me straight into her arms. Brooke crashes into us a second later, all three of us clinging to each other, crying and talking over one another at the same time.
“Oh my god, Bri.”
“You’re here.”
“You’re really here.”
I can’t even make sense of my own words. I’m crying too hard, laughing and sobbing all at once as I clutch my sisters like I’ll never let them go again.
Around us, the yard fills fast. Club brothers everywhere. Familiar faces. The guys who came to get me are pulling in one by one, engines cutting, boots hitting pavement. It feels loud and overwhelming and unreal.
Mason’s voice cuts through it all. “Inside. Now. We’ll talk inside.”
Bella and Brooke don’t let go of me as they pull me into the clubhouse, guiding me straight to a couch like I might fall apart if they let me stand on my own.
They start asking questions immediately.
“Are you hurt?”
“Did he touch you?”
“Did they starve you?”
“How long?”
“Where were you?”
I answer what I can, but my eyes keep drifting across the room.
Blade. He’s standing near the wall, talking to Mason and Dagger, his posture tense, like he’s holding himself together by force alone. When my gaze locks onto him, something inside my chest twists painfully.
I love my sisters. But I need him. He sees it instantly. The moment our eyes meet, he breaks away and comes to me without hesitation. He reaches down, grips my hands, and pulls me up like nothing else in the room exists. “I need a minute,” he says, not asking.
No one argues as he lifts me easily and carries me down the hall to a back room, closing the door behind us. The noise fades. The chaos disappears. He sets me gently on the bed and climbs on after me, pulling me into his arms like that’s the only place I’ve ever belonged. We don’t speak. We just hold each other, breathing, grounding, letting the world catch up.
Time stretches.
His hand moves slowly, carefully, until it rests over my stomach. I feel him tense instantly. His voice comes out rough, strangled. “Did he hurt you?”
I lift my head and cup his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “He never touched me.”
Confusion flickers across his face, followed by something heavier. Something scary.
“I don’t know for sure,” I whisper. “I never took a test. I didn’t dare.” My heart pounds as I say it. “But I need to.”
His breath shudders. And suddenly, the room feels very small, very quiet, and full of a future neither of us was ready to name out loud yet.
He leans in and kisses me deeply, like he’s been holding himself back for weeks and finally can’t anymore. His hands come up to cradle my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks as if he’s reassuring himself that I’m real, that I’m here, that I’m not going to disappear again. The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s grounding. Steady. It tastes like relief and fear tangled together, like everything we didn’t get to say crashing into one moment.
I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt, breathing him in like my body recognizes home before my mind can catch up. My chest aches, full and tight, and for a second the world narrows down to just this. Just us. Just the sound of our breathing and the quiet thud of his heart under my palm.
