“Meaning the next wave of men that your father sends to find you won’t be so polite,” he assessed. Trixie’s stomach dropped at the thought of more men being sent after her. “That’s why we’re going to the compound,” he continued. “It’s safer there. Plus, it’s farther from any town. They’ll never be able to get close,” he boasted.
“How can you be so sure?” she asked.
He looked at her then. “Because I’ll burn the world down before I let them take you.” Her breath caught. She didn’t know what to do with what he had just said to her.
The fight behind them ended quickly and efficiently. Her father’s men were on their knees, their wrists zip-tied, and Venom looming over them like a storm waiting to break.
Cyclops stood and offered Trixie his hand, but she didn’t take it at first. “You hurt?” he asked.
“No,” she breathed, still trying to digest his words.
“Were you scared?” he asked, looking her over.
She hesitated only a second. “Not of them,” she admitted.
His mouth twitched like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to smile or swear. “Good.”
She slipped her hand into his, and he pulled her up gently. His hand was warm, rough, and steady. She stood, practically pressing herself against his body.
“We need to go,” Ink called. “Now, before they’re missed.”
Cyclops nodded. Then he turned to Trixie, lifting her chin lightly with two fingers. A touch that shouldn’t have felt intimate in the middle of a battlefield, but it did. “You sure that you’re okay?” Nobody had ever asked her that in the middle of danger—only after, and it was always a rhetorical question. But Cyclops’s question wasn’t rhetorical.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He didn’t smile, and he didn’t release her chin. “If you ever see a gun lifted again, you duck behind me if you’re close. If not, get behind anything solid. Am I clear?”
Her pride prickled. “I’m not helpless,” she grumbled.
His thumb brushed her jaw—not soft, but firm enough to hold her attention. “I know that. But let me worry about the bullets from now on.”
A beat passed between them—charged, sharp, and electric. She forced herself to swallow. “Fine,” she agreed.
Cyclops walked over to where Ink stood, and they seemed to be having a heated debate about the two men kneeling on the ground beside them. They kept looking at them and pointing, and then Cyclops looked back at her. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen to her father’s men, but she could tell by the look on his handsome face that it wasn’t going to be good.
He walked back over to her and took her hand. “We’re leaving,” he said.
“Wait, what are you going to do with them?” she asked, nodding over to the two men.
“Ink is going to take care of them. Venom and Razor are going to hang back to make sure that no one else is on our trialand you and I are going to the safehouse. The guys will join us as soon as they know that it’s safe.”
“Alone?” she squeaked.
“Yes, now let’s go,” he ordered. Cyclops swung his leg over his bike and looked back at her, waiting for her to follow the orders that he had just barked at her. She climbed on behind him without hesitation this time, arms sliding around him like they belonged there. Maybe that made her desperate and needy, but she didn’t care. She had quickly come to depend on Cyclops, and from the way that he was protecting her, he didn’t seem to mind.
As they roared back onto the road, she pressed her cheek to his back and let the fear bleed out of her. She had stopped running alone. She had chosen something else—someone else. And as they thundered toward the compound, Trixie realized something unsettling, something she wasn’t ready to admit out loud—she trusted Cyclops more tonight than she had ever trusted anyone in her entire life.
CYCLOPS
Cyclops didn’t ease off the throttle until the compound’s gate came into view. It was twelve feet of steel reinforced with welded crossbars, and floodlights swept the tree line like watchful eyes. Venom had just about caught up with him and Trixie and was riding point now. His guns were holstered, but Cyclops could tell that his hands were twitchy. He kept checking his mirrors like he expected the sedan to rise from the ground and chase them down again. It wouldn’t, though. Ink and Razor were taking care of that problem. Which somehow worried Cyclops more because when those guys didn’t show back up to report back to Lee, he’d send out even more men.
Trixie was still pressed against his back, her breath warming the side of his neck through the collar of his cut. She was steady now that she had stopped shaking. She was no longer panicking. He hated that she had lived like a woman who knew that she was prey, but happy that she seemed to refuse to accept her fate anymore. He respected the hell out of her, but it didn’t quiet the anger burning through him.
He was mad at himself, really. He was beating himself up for not seeing the sedan sooner. He should’ve anticipated that herfather would have sent out scouts to find her. He should’ve been faster getting her out of the bar. The idea of her getting grabbed and taken from him stirred something deep and primitive inside him. It was a place he didn’t look at often because he didn’t like what it made him capable of doing.
Venom swung ahead of him and punched in the gate code. The metal doors groaned open, revealing the compound inside. It was more of a fortress than a home. The high walls, watchtower, garages, barracks, and armory didn’t give a very homey feeling. Floodlights were everywhere. Here, they’d be safe and secure. The grounds were impenetrable, unless someone wanted to start a full-on war—and he had a sick feeling that was exactly what her old man wanted to do.
Cyclops guided his bike through the gate. And Venom followed him in. The heavy steel gate closed behind them with a booming finality. Only when the lock clanked into place did Cyclops finally allow himself to breathe.
