He turned to me slowly, his hand brushing my lower back. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
I stepped back.
“No.”
His brows lifted, not in surprise. But with concern masked as patience.
“I’m not going up there alone,” I said. “I’m not—I can’t be alone again. Not right now.”
That was the truth. I didn’t care if the room had locks or if it was behind two layers of club security. Alone still meant vulnerable. Alone meant dark thoughts and shaking hands and trying not to scream.
Wrecker didn’t argue. He just nodded once and shifted his stance. “Come on.”
He led me through the hallway, past the bar and the war room, into the garage where the MC stored their bikes. It smelled like motor oil and rubber and sweat, which was comforting in a weird, gritty way. The space was enclosed, no windows, walls lined with storage lockers and racks of tools.
The garage felt different from the rest of the compound.
Not softer, just quieter. No windows. No sightlines to the outside. Just concrete and steel and the weight of heavy things that didn’t move easily.
It grounded me.
I focused on the details the way Doc had taught me. The grit on the floor beneath my palms. The faint vibration of the generator through the walls. The smell of oil so sharp it burned a little in the back of my throat.
Real things. Present things.
Wrecker moved with purpose, checking locks, scanning corners, flipping switches like this was muscle memory instead of fear. Watching him helped. He wasn’t panicking. He wasn’t rushing.
If he believed this space was safe, maybe my body would catch up eventually.
Wrecker checked the door locks, then flipped a switch to power on the backup lights. Low glow strips running along the ceiling came to life. It bathed everything in soft orange light.
He crouched in front of me as I slid down against a metal cabinet. My legs gave out the second I stopped moving.
“You good?” he asked, voice low.
I nodded. Lied.
He stayed close, kneeling just far enough to give me space, but still in reach. His presence steadied me.
Until—
Gunfire.
Sharp. Distant. Coming from the north side of the compound.
Ariel screamed.
Wrecker was on his feet instantly, gun drawn, already scanning the door like he expected it to blow open.
Doc’s voice crackled through the comms. “Cap, we’ve got shots fired. Northern perimeter.”
Brutus: “I’m headed out. Confirm if it’s a breach.”
Wrecker stepped in front of me, shielding me from the door.
My heart took off in my chest. The air felt too thick. My fingers curled against the cold floor. “They’re here.”
“Not for long,” he muttered.
