She leaves, and silence falls over the room. Titan sprawls in his chair like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Ghost maintains his vigil by the window. Ash still leans against the wall.
“What happens now?” I ask.
“Now you rest,” Ash says. “We’ll figure out who betrayed your father. And we prepare for Savage Legion to retaliate.”
“They’re going to come after me.”
“Probably.”
“And you’re just going to let them waltz in here?”
“I’m going to make sure they regret it if they try.” His voice carries absolute certainty. “This is our territory, Bonnie. Our home. And nobody takes what’s ours.”
The last thing I hear before exhaustion pulls me under is the rumble of motorcycles outside and Ash’s voice giving orders to lock down the compound.
Home. For better or worse, I’m home.
10
BONNIE
I’m running through the woods again.
Branches tear at my dress. My feet bleed with every step. Behind me, Marcus laughs—that cold, empty sound that turns my blood to ice. He’s gaining on me.
“You can’t escape.” His voice echoes through the trees. “You’re mine, Bonnie. You’ll always be mine.”
I try to scream, but nothing comes out. My legs won’t move fast enough. The trees close in, trap me, hold me in place while he gets closer and closer?—
I jolt awake with a gasp.
Sunlight streams through my bedroom window. My heart hammers against my ribs. For a moment, I can’t remember where I am, if I’m safe, if any of it was real.
The door opens, and Jamie walks in carrying fresh bandages.
“Morning,” she says gently. “Heard you moving around. How are you feeling?”
My hands shake as I push hair out of my face. “Fine. Just a dream.”
“Nightmares are normal after trauma.” She sets the supplies on my nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed. “Your body’s processing what happened.”
I nod.
“Let me check your wounds,” she says. “Then we’ll get you cleaned up and fed.”
She unwraps the gauze from my feet first. The cuts look better than yesterday—still angry and red, but no signs of infection. Each touch makes me wince, but I bite my tongue.
“Healing nicely,” Jamie says. “You were lucky. Could have been much worse.”
Lucky. Right.
She moves to my arms next, checking the cuts from the fence. Most are shallow enough that they’ll heal without scars. The deeper ones on my back she examines with gentle fingers.
“Stitches are holding. Try not to stretch too much for the next few days.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She helps me to the bathroom and waits outside while I shower. The hot water stings every cut and scrape, but I don’t care. I need to wash away the memories of yesterday.
