She grabbed my wrist and pressed it to her own chest. “Feel that? My heartbeat. Match it. In. Out.”
Wrecker’s name flashed across my phone screen.
He was calling.
I couldn’t move.
Cap snatched it and answered, voice low and clipped. “It’s Cap. Get back. Now.”
Silence on the other end. Then?—
“Tell me what happened.”
“Power cut. Message received. It's blood.”
“I’m ten minutes out.”
Cap hung up.
He didn’t say a word. Just rested one hand between my shoulder blades, steady and firm.
And I stayed there on the floor, hands clenched, chest heaving, heart pounding.
Wondering how the hell we were ever going to win this war.
The sound of engines was thunder across the night.
Wrecker’s was first.
I knew it. It was louder, deeper, and angry like the man himself.
It rolled in and shook the windows before the tires even hit gravel. I was still sitting on the floor, back against the couch, wrapped in a blanket someone must’ve thrown over me while I was spiraling. My hands still ached. Every finger cramped. Doc had massaged them, whispering grounding words, but I hadn’t said much.
Couldn’t.
Cap stood by the front door, arms crossed, gun holstered but still in reach. The second the first headlight cut across the porch, he unlocked the deadbolt and stepped out.
Wrecker didn’t wait for the engine to cool. He killed the bike and stormed in, helmet still on, jaw clenched so tight it could’ve cracked bone. The others followed. Ghost peeled off toward the kitchen without a word, Brutus taking a post by the front window, Ranger moving to check the fuse box again.
But Wrecker?
He made a beeline for me.
Helmet off. Jaw set. Chest heaving.
His eyes found mine and I swear, I saw somethingbreakin him.
He dropped to a crouch in front of me, pulling the blanket down just enough to cup my face.
“I told you,” he said, voice barely above a growl, “I told you I’d keep you safe.”
“You did.” My voice cracked. “Iamsafe. I just—my body didn’t believe it.”
His thumb brushed my cheekbone. “What did they send?”
Cap tossed the phone onto the couch behind me. “Picture. Elevator from the compound. Blood down the buttons. Text said—‘You should have stayed in your lane, little red.”
Wrecker didn’t react at first.
