His expression softened in a way that made her chest ache. “Good,” he said. “So would I.” Aurora rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat—strong, steady, and real. Forthe first time since she’d escaped the Saints, she wasn’t planning her exit, and she wasn’t thinking about running. She was planning how to stay, and that, she knew, was the bravest thing she’d done in a damn long time. It was also the most dangerous thing she’d ever done, and that scared the hell out of her.
It had been almosttwo weeks since Nitro hid her away in the safe house, and Aurora felt as though she was going to lose her mind. She was used to running, and staying in one place for this long felt foreign to her.
Aurora almost forgot what fear felt like. Not because it was gone—but because, for a few stolen hours, it loosened its grip. She had woken slowly that morning, her body feeling deliciously used by Nitro during the night before. Sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, painting the kitchen in pale gold. Nitro moved around the space as though he belonged there, shirtless, barefoot, and utterly domestic in a way that felt unreal. He brewed coffee with a focus that made her want to laugh. He had turned everyday chores into such serious events; she couldn’t help but find it all adorable—not that she told him that. Big, bad bikers didn’t like hearing that the women they were with found them to be adorable.
Aurora sat at the small table, knees tucked to her chest, wrapped in one of his shirts as she watched him without hiding it. She let herself memorize this version of him. He looked so domestic at the safehouse. He wasn’t just her protector. No, he was just a man making coffee in the sunlight.
“You’re staring,” he said without turning around.
She smiled softly. “I like this version of you.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his brow lifting. “Version of me,” he repeated. “What do you mean by version of me?”
She shrugged, “I guess you are a multifaceted man, Nitro. I like seeing this domesticated side of you. The words slipped out before she could stop them. Nitro didn’t tease her, and he didn’t deflect. He just nodded, like he’d accepted her description of him.
“Seeing you like this, here with me, makes me feel as though you’re not going to take off,” she admitted.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. Her chest warmed—and that scared her more than any threat ever had.
They ate together in companionable quiet. Talking about nothing in particular. They talked about music and about life on the road. They shared places they’d both been to or passed through. Aurora laughed more than she had in years, the sound surprising even herself.
For a while, she let herself imagine what life could look like if this life were allowed to last. She’d have a real home and not have to change names every other day. But most importantly, she’d have a man who saw exactly who she was and wouldn’t think of her as disposable. He’d want to stay with her, and that would mean everything to her.
She was playing a dangerous game, though—one that she shouldn’t play. The universe didn’t reward hope to people like her. Aurora had learned that the hard way over her years in captivity, and things weren’t going to change for her now just because she hoped that they would.
The other half of her days was spent worrying about everything that could go wrong—and usually did. She always had a deep sense of when something bad was about to happen, and right now was no exception. Aurora stood at the sink, rinsing mugs, when a sense of panic sliced through her calm. It was as though her instincts had kicked in and were telling her that sheneeded to pay attention if she wanted to save her ass from what was coming for her. Aurora learned a long time ago to trust those instincts.
Her hands stilled, dropping the last mug back into the soapy water. “Nitro,” she said quietly.
He was on the couch, cleaning his weapon. He looked up instantly. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But something feels off.” He didn’t question her or make her feel half crazy. Instead, he stood from the sofa and crossed to the window, peering through the curtains.
She followed him over to the window and looked out, seeing nothing. The street lay empty and was eerily quiet—too quiet. Still, Aurora’s pulse picked up as her stomach tightened, like it always did when she sensed that something bad was about to happen. This was the cost of peace—it made you forget that danger didn’t need an invitation.
Her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket, and she pulled it out, staring it down as though it had wronged her in some way. “Unknown number,” she whispered as though saying it too loudly would cause the caller to be able to hear her.
Nitro was suddenly behind her, his presence solid. “Don’t answer it,” he ordered.
She knew better than to answer her cell when an unknown caller appeared on her screen. It was a sure-fire way of getting caught, and that wasn’t something that she’d allow. The question was—how did anyone have her number? She switched phones as often as some women changed clothes. But she found herself going against her good sense and answering it anyway.
“Renee,” a man’s voice purred. It was familiar in the way nightmares were familiar. “I was wondering how long you’d pretend you could be happy.” Her breath caught. She was a fool for answering, and now, the Saints had found her. God, she wasan idiot, but it was too late to pretend that she didn’t just fuck up completely.
“Your father sends his love,” the voice continued. “He says you always did have a talent for attaching yourself to dangerous men.” Nitro took the phone from her hand before she could stop him. His expression darkened into something lethal, sending a shiver straight through her. The Saints had no clue as to how dangerous he was, but she was certain that they were about to find out.
“Who the fuck is this?” Nitro shouted into the phone.
A soft chuckle came from the other end of the call. “Listen carefully,” the man said, unfazed by Nitro’s outburst. “You’ve had your fun, now you need to make a choice. You can choose to come back home to us, and this all can end today. You’ll save countless lives, including your new boyfriends. Or, you can choose to keep on running, and we’ll burn down the whole fucking world to find you. You’ll never be safe. There won’t be a place on Earth where you can hide that we won’t be able to find you, Renee. You know what kind of resources I have.”
The line went dead before Nitro could protest or she could tell the man to go to hell. There was no way that she’d go back to the Saints. That wasn’t one of her choices. She’d die before she’d let them put her back into a cage, but the same was true if they tried to hurt Nitro. She’d never let that happen.
Aurora stared at the blank screen, the warmth of the morning draining away as if it had never existed. Her false calm shattered, just as it always did, and left behind was pure panic. She knew, deep in her bones, that whatever came next would hurt worse because she had allowed herself to feel safe first.
She turned slowly toward Nitro, fear and resolve warring in her chest. “They found us,” she said. And for the first time since she’d stopped running, Aurora knew the storm had arrived. Herinstincts were right—trouble was coming for her, and there was no way to stop it.
NITRO
Nitro knewthey were coming for her. Men like the Saints, who pretended they were not hunting while laying a trail straight to the prey, were dangerous. But they had no idea just how dangerous he could be in return. They were fucking with the wrong guy, and trying to take his woman from him only pissed him off to the point that he wanted to murder them all for what they were doing to Aurora.
