Page 59 of What They Say

A man stood waiting on the front steps.

He looked about thirty years older than Chase, but the resemblance was unmistakable. They shared the same broad shoulders, same stormy gray eyes, and the same commanding presence. That had to be Mason.

Chase dropped the kickstand as he shut the bike down. He was off the bike in one smooth motion, turning to her. He unbuckled the helmet and lifted it off gently, then cradled her face in both of his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks like he was checking that she was real.

Then he leaned in and kissed her—one of the gentlest, most tender kisses she’d ever received. Full of relief, fear, and something deeper that made her eyes sting.

“Come on,” he whispered against her lips, voice rough. “Come meet my dad.”

He helped her off the bike, keeping one arm securely around her waist as they walked towards the steps where Mason waited, watching them with an unreadable expression.

Kath’s heart was still racing, her body still trembling from everything that had happened, but with Chase’s arm around her and his solid warmth beside her, she took the next step.

***

Bear

Bear stood in the tree line just beyond the trailer, the night air thick with the smell of gunpowder and pine. His ears still rang from the controlled bursts they’d laid down to pin the hostiles inside. The rest of the brothers had already cleared the front and sides—efficient, professional, no unnecessary noise. This wasn’t about spectacle. It was about sending a message.

He rolled his shoulders once, feeling the familiar weight of the vest under his cut, and stepped forwards. Slate fell in beside him without a word, rifle slung low. The back door hung crooked on its hinges where Chase had kicked it open on the way in. Good kid.

Inside, the place reeked of stale beer and fear-sweat. The shorter man was down on his knees in the cramped living room, hands zip-tied behind his back, a blooming bruise already darkening one cheek. The tall one leaned against the wall, breathing hard, blood trickling from a split lip. His eyes flicked up when Bear filled the doorway, and something ugly twisted across his face.

“You boys picked the wrong family to fuck with,” Bear said, voice low and even. He didn’t raise it. Didn’t need to. The weight of it carried just fine.

Scarface spat blood onto the cheap carpet. “Mason’s gonna—”

Bear crossed the distance in two strides and backhanded him hard enough to snap his head sideways. “You don’t say his name. You don’t say the boy’s name. You sure as hell don’t say hers.”

The man sagged but didn’t go down. Tough. Or stupid. Bear had seen both.

Slate moved in, checking the shorter one for weapons, then straightened. “Myron’s already scrubbing their phones. No backups sent. No one else knows they had her.”

Bear nodded once. He crouched in front of Scarface, close enough to see the fear finally bleeding into the man’s eyes.

“You thought grabbing a girl on one of our bikes would hurt us?” Bear’s voice dropped even lower. “That girl matters to Chase. Which means she matters to every man wearing this patch. You came after family. That’s a mistake you only get to make once.”

He let the silence stretch, let the man feel the full weight of what was coming.

“We’re not killing you tonight,” Bear continued. “Not here. That’d be too easy, and we don’t need the heat. But you’re done in this state. Done running with whoever’s left of the old Diamante scraps. Doesn’t matter what kind of beef you think you’ve got. We will always knock your shit backwards and sideways if you try coming at us again. Ever. You’ll carry this message back to whatever holes you crawled out of: The Rebel Wayfarers protect what’s ours. Touch one of us again—any of us—and we won’t stop at zip ties and warnings.”

Slate hauled Scarface up. The shorter man followed without protest, all fight gone.

Bear watched them get loaded into the van waiting out back. Hurley and Ruger would handle transport—drop them at the state line with enough bruises to remember the lesson and enough fear to spread the word. No loose ends. No martyrs.

As the van’s taillights disappeared down the dirt road, Bear pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to Mason.

*Done. Girl’s safe. Message delivered.*

He exhaled slowly, the adrenaline finally ebbing. Chase had ridden like a bat out of hell to get Kath, and Bear couldn’t even be mad about it. The kid had heart. Loyalty. The kind that made a man more than just his father’s shadow.

Bear swung a leg over his bike and thumbed the starter. The deep rumble rolled through the quiet night like thunder settling after a storm.

Family was safe.

That was all that mattered.

Chapter Twenty-Two