We turn off the main road and onto a narrower trail, the asphalt rougher, the streetlights fewer and farther between. Thetown falls away behind us, replaced by industrial quiet and the faint hum of distant highway noise.
Eventually, the storage units appear ahead like a row of metal teeth under flickering security lights.
“Oh,” I murmur. “Charming.”
Finn leans closer. “Wait until you see the décor.”
Ryder pulls into a shadowed spot near the end of the row and cuts the engine. The headlights are off before the truck even finishes rolling.
The quiet that follows is loud.
Somewhere far off, something metallic rattles and then stills.
My heartbeat climbs.
And here’s the part I probably shouldn’t admit… it isn’t just fear, it’s adrenaline.
Every unnecessary thought drops away. My senses narrow. I’m acutely aware of the heaviness of the night, of the solid presence of Finn’s thigh beside mine, of the way Ryder doesn’t open his door immediately but scans the lot first.
This is their old world, and I’m stepping into it.
Ryder turns in his seat just enough to look at me directly. “Stay between us.”
“I will,” I reply.
Zane exits first, scanning left, then right. Ryder follows. Finn opens my door and offers his hand like we’re at a gala instead of a potential confrontation.
“Madam,” he says softly.
I take it.
It’s colder outside, carrying the metallic scent of old steel and oil. The storage unit Ryder walks toward has a heavier latch than the others, older and worn from use.
He unlocks it without ceremony.
The door rolls up with a grinding sound that makes my nerves jump despite myself.
Inside, the space is mostly empty now. A workbench sits against the back wall. Shelving lines one side. A half-wall in the rear separates a lounge area with worn couches and a dusty TV. Oil stains mark the concrete like shadows of whatever once lived here.
This is history.
Their history.
I can almost see it. Bikes lined up, engines in pieces, low voices discussing plans that would never make it into polite conversation.
Ryder stands near the entrance, scanning the lot even with his back half turned, like this place still demands vigilance.
I study them in the confined space.
Ryder doesn’t relax just because we’re inside. He watches the doorway and the reflection in the metal shelving like a man who learned long ago that danger doesn’t knock.
Zane shifts his stance slightly to cover a blind spot without even thinking about it.
Finn stays close to me, present enough that I can feel him if I move.
The danger terrifies me.
And if I’m being honest with myself, it also thrills me in a way that makes me question my life choices. Not because I want madness, but because this version of them is stripped down to something essential.
