“Or to check how fast we respond,” Ranger added. “And how many of us would show up.”
Cap’s voice came through the comms. “Secure the kid. Bag the gear. Ghost—scrub the drone footage. I want frame-by-frame.”
I looked back toward the clubhouse.
Amanda.
She was inside, probably sitting on that bench where I left her, staring at the wall and trying to convince herself her hands weren’t still shaking.
She wouldn’t say it.
But I knew.
She felt marked.
And now, I was done playing defense.
“They don’t get another night like this,” I said.
No one argued.
We just turned back toward the clubhouse.
Because this war had already started.
And I wasn’t letting them get another inch.
14
AMANDA
Cap’s voice came through the comms. “Secure the kid. Bag the gear. Ghost—scrub the drone footage. I want frame-by-frame.”
I looked up at Wrecker. His jaw was locked, his vest streaked with dirt, eyes scanning every corner like he could see through walls.
But me? I was shaking again.
Not from the cold. Not from the power outage.
From the feeling that even inside these walls, I wasn’t safe.
I hated that the fear didn’t care about logic.
Didn’t care about locked doors or armed men or the fact that this place had survived worse than a power outage and a threat. Fear wasn’t rational. It didn’t sit quietly and wait for reassurance.
It crawled.
It settled into my bones and whispered that safety was temporary. That it could be taken away in a second. That all it took was one mistake, one unlocked door, one moment alone.
I’d believed I was free once before.
I’d believed walls meant protection.
I knew better now.
My hands curled at my sides, fingers stiff, like my body was already bracing for impact. Like it remembered exactly how it felt to be grabbed, to be moved without consent, to disappear while the world kept spinning.
Inside these walls or not, I was still a target.
