Regan’s face twisted. “She’s hurt.”
“I know.”
“She’s scared.”
“I know.”
“She needs me.”
“Yes,” JD said. “That’s why you go with her.”
Edge went still.
Regan looked between them.
“Where?” she asked.
JD’s answer was immediate. “Cal’s ranch.”
Several men shifted.
That meant it was a good answer.
“No one looks for a biker princess at a working ranch,” JD said. “They’ll look at the clubhouse. Edge’s house. The hospital. Airports. Hotels. They won’t look at Cal’s back acreage unless they already know, and they don’t.”
Callum nodded slowly. “Ranch has old trails.”
“Exactly,” JD said. “No main roads if we can help it. No obvious convoy. No phones moving with her. No headlights cutting across traffic cameras. No drones catching a line of bikes playing rescue parade.”
Nate muttered, “Eyes in the sky.”
JD pointed at him. “That. Assume everything has eyes. Traffic cams, doorbell cams, satellites, private security, rich neighbors with drones, kids livestreaming because they think trauma is content.”
Edge looked at Regan.
Regan looked upstairs.
Destiny.
The decision broke across her face like pain.
“She can ride?” Regan asked.
“Not a bike,” JD said. “Not a car if we can avoid roads. Old-school. Through the back land. Horses if Cal can get them close enough. Ranch utility trail where no city camera sees. If she’s stable enough to move, you get her there before dawn.”
Regan swallowed.
“She hates horses.”
A rough sound moved through the room. Not laughter, exactly. Too broken for that. But something human.
JD’s mouth twitched once. “Tonight she stole Edge’s bike and blew up a Bronco. She can tolerate a horse.”
Edge didn’t smile.
Neither did Regan.
But some of the death drained out of the room.
