Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I want her back. Just like knowing she’s still scared.”
I want to kill him. Not metaphorically. Not as a passing thought. As a certainty.
Chux steps in behind me. “Mellow.”
A warning. Not to stop. To think.
I breathe once.
Twice.
Then I slam Clint back into the wall harder. “You think this is funny?”
“I think,” he says, smirking, “you’re wasting your time.”
Gainz moves in, grabbing Clint’s phone off the table.
“Let’s see about that.”
The clubhouse turns into a war room with the men left behind. Gainz sends the information over while we secure Clint and make our way back to Freedom Falls with him tied up in our van.
Every man not driving is doing something. Phones out. Laptops open. Riot and Stunt leaning over screens while Dodge paces like he’s about to chew through drywall.
We get back to the clubhouse and I deny myself the urge to go to her. Lucy is with Lindsey in my room down the hall safe. I don’t want to see her until I have concrete answers. I stand still in the middle of it. Waiting.
That’s the hardest part.
Not the violence. Not the threat.
The waiting.
Lucy’s face flashes in my mind. Quinn’s. Five years old. Small. Trusting. And somewhere out there—I shove the thought down.
Focus.
“Got something,” Riot says.
We all move in. On the screen—Clint’s phone, mirrored and torn open piece by piece.
Messages. Videos. Images.
Then—There. A photo.
My stomach drops. Quinn. Marlaina. Tied to chairs. Duct tape over their mouths. Quinn’s eyes wide. Terrified.
Something in me snaps so hard it’s almost quiet.
“Where,” I say.
Riot’s already digging.
“Not him,” he mutters. “Different number. Sending him updates.”
Clint goes pale behind us.
“What the hell is that?” I turn slowly. “You don’t know?”
“No,” he says, and for the first time there’s real fear in his eyes. “I swear to God, I don’t—”
Chux steps in. “Then you better start thinking who does.”
Riot curses under his breath. “Got location. Rental property. Louisiana.”
“Who sent it?” I ask. He pulls up the contact.
Name.
History.
Photos.
“Clint,” Riot says, voice flat. “Your ex.”
Clint’s face drains completely. “She’s crazy,” he breathes. “I told her to leave me alone months ago. I met someone new. Dumped her.”
“You attract that type,” Dodge mutters the obvious.
I’m already moving.
“Mount up.”
The ride to Louisiana is hell. Fast. Relentless. Every mile stretching like it’s ten. No one talks. No one jokes. Just engines and purpose. We don’t stop unless we have to. By the time we hit the rental, it’s dark.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Lights off. No movement.
I don’t wait for a plan. The door doesn’t stand a chance. Inside, it smells wrong.
Stale.
Closed.
Fear.
We split fast. Rooms clear. Empty.
Then— “Up here!” Saged shouts.
Attic.
Of course. I take the stairs two at a time. Kick the attic door open.
And there—Quinn. Marlaina. Alive. Tied. Crying. Relief hits so hard it almost drops me. I’m across the room in seconds, ripping tape free, cutting restraints with my knife.
“It’s okay,” I tell Quinn, my voice rough. “You’re okay.”
She sobs into my shirt the second I pull her free. “Mama—I want my mama.”
“I know,” I murmur, holding her tight. “We’ve got you.”
Marlaina is shaking but conscious. Saged drops beside her, hands frantic but careful.
“I’m here,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
Downstairs, there’s a crash. A scream. The woman.
I hand Quinn off to Marlaina who is now more alert.
“Take her.” Then I turn.
It’s over fast. It always is when we move like this. The woman is hysterical, screaming about love and betrayal and Clint and how Lucy “didn’t deserve to get away. Quinn was going to get Clint to come back to her.” Same toxic attachment shit the crazy ones get.
I don’t listen. Don’t care. She’s dealt with.
Contained.
Breathing for now. That’s all she gets from me.
Clint is waiting when we get back. Not by choice. Pinned where we left him. I grab him by the front of his shirt and slam him into the wall again.
“This is your fault.”
“I didn’t—”
“You played games,” I snap. “With women. With fear. With control.”
His head hits the wall. Hard. “And now a child pays for it.”
He looks like he might pass out.
Good.
“You’re going to fix this,” I tell him.
“How?”
“You know exactly how.”
Fear finally settles deep in his bones. The kind that stays. Good. He should carry it. Forever.
I make sure he does what is necessary before I head to my girls. Marlaina stayed with Quinn while Saged took them home.
Quinn is home safe. Lucy is there holding her close. Waiting. I walk through the door and everything else fades.
Because she’s on her knees in the living room, Quinn in her arms, both of them crying, holding onto each other like they might disappear if they don’t.
Relief hits me like a punch to the chest.
I’ve been scared before.
For myself. For my brothers.
But this?
This is different.
This is something I don’t have a name for. Lucy looks up when she sees me. Her eyes find mine.
And something passes between us. Understanding. Gratitude. Something deeper.