“Yeah, baby,” he says, softer now, steadier. “It’s me.”
He crouches beside the bed, bringing himself down to my level, like he knows towering over me would be the wrong move. “What happened?” he asks. “I heard you screaming.”
My chest stutters on the inhale. The nightmare still clings to me, sticky and real, my skin buzzing like it remembers things it shouldn’t.
“I…I thought…” I swallow hard. “I didn’t know if I was awake.”
Lucky’s hand hovers near me, not touching yet, giving me space even though it’s killing him not to close it. “You are,” he says quietly. “You’re here. You’re safe. Talk to me.”
ELEVEN
LUCKY
The second Lenatells me Savannah left, something cold drops straight into my gut. “She just… left?” I ask, like maybe if I say it out loud it’ll rearrange itself into something that makes sense.
Lena nods, chewing on her lip. “She said she wasn’t feeling good. Got a ride. Said she was safe.”
Safe doesn’t mean okay. Safe doesn’t explain why she didn’t say goodbye. Or why she didn’t answer my calls. Or why my chest feels like it’s caving in the longer I stand there pretending this is fine.
I turn without another word and cut through the bar, straight for the back hallway. Past the storage room. Past the staff-only door. Past the place where the music fades and the real business starts.
Riot clocks me immediately and falls in beside me, reading my body language like he always does. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I need you,” I say. “Now.”
That earns me a look, but he doesn’t slow down. We hit the access door behind Perdition. Riot punches in the code without breaking stride, the keypad blinking green as the lock clicks open. The door swings wide and we step straight into the clubhouse, the part of the building most people don’t even know exists. Concrete floors. Old leather. Oil and smoke and history soaked into the walls. Only brothers back here.
Riot leads the way down the hall and into his office. He doesn’t ask questions yet. Just shuts the door behind us and rounds his desk. “What happened?” he asks finally.
I pace once, then stop because I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t say it. “Savannah left. Out of nowhere. Won’t answer her phone. Something fucked up happened tonight, Riot. I don’t know what, but she didn’t just bounce for no reason.”
He studies me carefully. “Your woman?”
“I don’t even know if I get to call her that,” I snap, then scrub a hand over my face. “But yeah, her. I need her address.”
Riot exhales slowly, clearly not loving where this is going. “You know how this looks.”
“I know,” I say immediately. “And I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have to. I just need to make sure she’s okay. You know me, man. I’ll leave if she tells me to. I swear to you.”
He watches me for a long second. Long enough that I feel every damn second of it. Then he nods once. “Sit,” he says, already pulling his keyboard closer.
I drop into the chair across from him, leg bouncing like I’m wired to an outlet. Riot types fast, eyes sharp, expression tight. “You better not make me regret this,” he mutters.
“You won’t.”
He finds it, scribbles the address on a scrap of paper, then slides it across the desk to me. “This is it.”
I grab it like it might disappear.
“Lucky,” he says, stopping me before I turn away. “You don’t get to scare her.”
“I won’t,” I promise. “I just need to know she’s safe.”
He nods once. “Go.”
I don’t waste another second. I ride hard, engine snarling under me, night air cutting sharp against my face. When I pull up to her place, my stomach sinks.
All the lights are off. The house is dark. Quiet. Too quiet.
