He flinched. “Renee?—”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “You don’t get to use any of my names. You lost that right when you gave me to the Saints.” Her voice didn’t shake, and that surprised the hell out of her.
“I didn’t know they’d hurt you like that,” he said quickly, words tumbling out like rehearsed lines. “They told me you’d be safe with them. That you would just be doing some work around the club?—”
“Stop lying,” Aurora shouted.
“Aurora,” Nitro breathed, reminding her that they might not be alone. She had almost forgotten that he was still standing by her side. She hated that he had to hear this side of her life—all the ugly parts. But Nitro had told her about the parts of his life that not many people knew about. She knew that he would stand by her, the way that she had stuck by him—no questions asked.
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute. Her father sagged, his shoulders slumping. “I owed them,” he whispered. “They said they’d kill me if I didn’t find a way to pay them.”
Aurora laughed softly, a sound stripped of humor. “So you paid them with my life. I was a little girl,” she breathed.
“I knew that you’d survive,” he said, seeming more desperate now. “You were always strong.” Hearing him say that nearly broke her. She shouldn’t have had to be strong at such a youngage. He should have been there to protect her at all costs, just like other father’s protected their daughters.
“You didn’t think,” she replied. “You decided my life was worth less than yours, so you traded me for your debt.”
Tears streaked down his face. “I came here to get you out.” That was laughable. Hell, maybe he believed that he was there to help pull her out of the Saints, but she didn’t need his help for that. She had found her way out all on her own.
“No,” Aurora said. “You came because they sent you to find me. They’re using you as bait.” He froze, and for a second, she wasn’t sure if she felt bad for the guy or if she wanted to laugh at him.
“I was held captive by the Saints long enough to know how they work,” she continued. “I know the way they wait for someone to let their guard down. You didn’t suddenly grow a conscience. You’re following orders.” His silence was the loudest answer of all.
Aurora felt the final thread snap—not rage, not grief, but relief. “You don’t get my forgiveness,” she said. “You won’t get me to do what you want me to do, just to save your ass again. And you don’t get to pretend you were a victim in all of this. I was.”
He dropped to his knees. “I’m your father,” he sobbed. “They’ll kill me. I had no choice.”
She looked at him, really looked, and honestly felt nothing for the man. “No,” she said quietly. “You were my jailer.” Behind her, a faint movement caught her attention, and she knew that her instincts were spot on about her father. He was working for the Saints and had set her up.
Aurora’s pulse spiked as she took a step back, getting behind Nitro, exactly as he had instructed.
“I hope they were worth it,” she said, turning away from the man who had already lost her. “Because I survived you and Isurvived them. I wonder if you’ll be able to say the same thing when the dust settles.”
As she walked back toward Nitro, the air shifted. It felt charged and electric, like the moment before a storm broke. Aurora didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. The old man standing behind her was her past—her ugly, vindictive past. She had said everything that mattered and had the man she wanted walking right beside her, holding her hand. And somewhere in the shadows, the men who thought they still owned her were about to learn just how wrong they were.
Aurora feltit before she saw it. The air changed—pressure building, the quiet bending inward like it was being pulled toward something ugly. Her instincts screamed at her, a full-body alarm she’d learned to trust the hard way.
She was ten steps behind Nitro when the first engine roared to life. Not one, but three headlights flared from behind the abandoned building, washing the gravel lot in blinding white. Tires spun as doors slammed and shapes moved where there should’ve been nothing but darkness. The Saints had followed her father to the old mill. They were there, and she knew that meant one thing—they wanted her back and would stop at nothing to make that happen.
She turned to find her father on his knees, terror wiping his face clean. “I—I didn’t know they’d come now,” he shouted after her. Aurora didn’t bother to answer him. What would she say now that she hadn’t already said to him? Whatever happened to her father now was on him because she had wiped her hands of him.
“Nitro!” she shouted as gunfire cracked around them. It didn’t seem to be aimed at her, not yet—but into the air, as a declaration of war. Men poured out of the shadows wearing cuts she recognized instantly. The Saints’ patch burned into her vision like a brand she could still feel on her skin.
“Renee!” someone yelled. “That’s far enough!” That voice hit like a punch to her gut—Salis. Aurora stumbled, and Nitro was there to keep her from falling, grabbing her arm, yanking her hard against his chest as bullets chewed into the dirt where she’d been standing a second earlier.
“Down!” he barked. She dropped with him, gravel biting into her palms as he shielded her, his body a wall between her and the chaos. The Saints were shouting into the air, barking orders, and spreading out like they were in their own territory. But they hadn’t counted on one thing—her bringing back up.
They didn’t see the Iron Vipers, not yet, at least. Aurora’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might tear free from her chest. The old mill echoed with engines and boots, the Saints confident and careless—exactly like Nitro had predicted they would be.
Her father tried to run out the side entrance, and he made it three steps before a gunshot rang out, and he went down screaming, clutching his leg. She looked around to find one of Nitro’s military buddies standing behind her father, his gun still trained on him if he tried to run again.
Everything around her felt as though it had frozen for half a second, and then the night erupted into chaos. The Iron Vipers surged from concealment, pouring out from tree lines, rooftops, and vehicles she’d never clocked on their way in. Gunfire answered gunfire. The Saints shouted in confusion as their formation shattered, sending men diving for cover. They no longer controlled the situation.
Aurora pressed her face into Nitro’s chest as he started to move them, fast and precise, toward the door. He half-dragged her behind the engine block of a truck for cover. His voice was calm in her ear, impossibly steady. “Stay with me,” he ordered. “Just breathe. This will all be over soon.” She did as he told her to do because she trusted Nitro with everything she had. Aurora knew that if she wanted to get out of this mess alive, she’d have to do just as he told her and let Nitro take care of the rest.
A Saint rushed their position, wild-eyed and furious. Nitro pulled his gun from his hip holster and fired just one shot—clean and controlled. The man dropped to the concrete floor, his body limp and lifeless. She knew that he was dead, and Nitro wouldn’t hesitate to take out anyone else who came in her direction.
Aurora shook—not from fear alone, but from the awful clarity that this violence was happening because of her. Because of what had been done to her, and because she had chosen not to run anymore.
