Nitro tugged her against his body. “You don’t have to hope forever,” he said. “Just for tonight, and we can figure out the rest of it tomorrow.”
She nodded, clinging to that small mercy. When she finally lay back down beside him, exhaustion dragging her under, Aurora stared into the darkness and accepted what the truth had cost her. Her armor was cracked because her past was no longer silent. And walking away from Nitro would hurt more than staying ever had.
For the first time since she’d escaped, Aurora didn’t dream of running. She dreamed of standing her ground, and that had everything to do with the man lying next to her in bed.
NITRO
Nitro waiteduntil Aurora fell asleep, really asleep. It was the kind of sleep that came after emotional exhaustion, when the body finally shut down, whether the mind was ready to or not. Her breathing evened out beside him, her lashes resting against bruised skin, and one hand curled loosely in the blanket like she was still bracing for something to be taken from her.
He watched her for a long moment and then got out of bed. He was careful to be quiet, like he’d done a thousand times before in places where mistakes got people killed. He got dressed without turning on the light, holstered his sidearm, checked the hallway, and stepped outside the bedroom. The safe house felt different now—less like shelter, more like a place where they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Nitro pulled out his burner phone, needing to make a call. Ghost answered on the first ring. “Tell me you got some sleep.”
“No,” Nitro said. “Tell me that you know which MC sold her.” There was a pause on the other end of the call, and he knew that Ghost was trying to decide how much to tell him. His friend knew how dangerous he could be with too much information.
“They are called the Saints,” Ghost said finally, “although they are anything but Saints. They’re based out of the Midwest.No charters, and they follow no rules. They traffic everything—guns, women, you name it. They have heavy ties to Eastern Europe, which would explain the hired muscles who attacked you both. They’ve been quiet lately—too quiet.”
Nitro leaned against the wall, his jaw locking as he thought through what his next move should be. “They won’t be quiet anymore,” he breathed. “Because I’m to give them something to yell about.”
Ghost exhaled slowly. “You’re emotionally compromised.”
Nitro almost laughed. “She was a kid,” he said. “Her father sold her to that club. They kept her for years.” His voice dropped. “They found her at her apartment, and they’ll find her here. It doesn't matter where we hide—they’re not going to stop coming for her.”
Silence stretched between them, and he was sure that Ghost was going to try to talk him down. But then Ghost surprised the hell out of him. “I have names.”
Nitro straightened. “Who’s the Prez?”
“A man named Salis Hale. Former military—dishonorably discharged. He likes control and likes to make examples out of people he feels wronged him in some way. I’m betting that your girl fits that bill.”
“That tracks,” Nitro said. “What do you know about her father?” Nitro asked.
“He’s alive,” Ghost replied. “Living off the grid and still feeding them information.” Nitro closed his eyes. In his line of work, there were rules. Engagement thresholds, layers of authorization, and the Saints followed none of them. But there were also moments when the rules stopped mattering.
“This stays off-book,” Nitro said.
“Once you say that,” Ghost warned, “there’s no clean exit.”
Nitro thought of Aurora’s voice breaking. Of the way she’d curled in on herself after telling him the truth. And of how hope scared her more than the men hunting her.
“I’m not looking for clean anymore,” he said. “I’m looking for this to be finished—not for me, but for Aurora.”
Another pause, before Ghosts sighed into the phone. The Iron Vipers will back you.” Nitro hadn’t asked—but the relief hit anyway.
“I don’t want chaos,” Nitro continued. “I want precision. I want their routes, where they keep their money, and their allies. I want Salis isolated.”
“And the father?” Ghost asked.
Nitro’s voice went cold. “He doesn’t get forgiveness,” Nitro said. “But Aurora decides his fate.”
“Understood,” Ghost breathed. Nitro ended the call and stood there in the quiet, the weight of the decision settled fully into his bones. This wasn’t a mission handed down by a faceless agency. This was a choice.
He returned to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her. Aurora stirred anyway, turning slightly toward him, instinctively seeking warmth. Nitro brushed his thumb over her knuckles.
“I’m going to end this,” he whispered, even though she couldn’t hear him. “Not just stop it, but end it.” He wasn’t sure if he was promising her—or himself. In the past, he’d justified violence as a necessity. As duty, as prevention, and as part of his job. But this time, it was personal. And that scared him more than anything else.
Aurora shifted again, murmuring something unintelligible, her brow creasing like the nightmares were waiting just under the surface for her. Nitro lay back down and pulled her gently against him, one arm firm around her shoulders. Whatever it cost him—his career, his cover, his soul, if that’s what it took—he’d already decided that they were all things that he was willing to sacrifice for Aurora. The Saints had taken years from her, and Nitro was about to take everything from them.
Nitro got up before dawn—oldhabit. But he had a new reason. Aurora was curled into him this time, not out of fear but comfort—her thigh draped over his, her cheek pressed to his chest like she belonged there. The weight of her felt right in a way that unsettled him more than danger ever had. This was the part that made men careless, and he had learned a long time ago that getting involved was a sure way to wind up hurt, or worse—dead.
