Under His Protection
1176 Words
The next morning, Black Hollow felt different.
Not because of the weather.
The weather was the same.
Gray skies.
Cold wind.
Rain threatening somewhere beyond the mountains.
No.
The difference was inside the bar.
Everyone was tired.
Nobody said it out loud.
Nobody complained.
But I could see it.
The break-in had changed things.
The danger wasn’t approaching anymore.
It had arrived.
And everyone knew it.
I stood behind the counter drying glasses while Maria handled the lunch crowd.
The task was mindlessly simple.
Which was exactly why she gave it to me.
Because every time I stopped moving, my mind immediately returned to Daniel.
Daniel wasn’t in charge.
The thought kept replaying.
Again.
And again.
And again.
If Daniel wasn’t running things, then who was?
And how powerful were they?
A shiver ran down my spine.
I hated not knowing.
I hated feeling helpless.
Most of all, I hated that everyone else seemed worried about me.
A customer approached the counter.
Middle-aged.
Friendly smile.
Regular.
I’d seen him three times this week already.
“Afternoon, Ivy.”
“Afternoon.”
“How are you holding up?”
I blinked.
The question surprised me.
Not because he asked.
Because he sounded sincere.
People in Black Hollow were strange.
In a good way.
“I’m okay.”
The man nodded.
Like he knew it was a lie.
Like he was willing to accept it anyway.
Before either of us could continue, a familiar shadow appeared beside me.
The customer immediately straightened.
Reaper.
Of course.
The customer smiled awkwardly.
“Morning, Reaper.”
A nod.
Nothing more.
The customer suddenly remembered somewhere else he needed to be.
Immediately.
I watched him retreat.
Then looked toward Reaper.
“You scared him away.”
“He left.”
“That’s your defense?”
“Yes.”
I rolled my eyes.
Reaper looked completely unbothered.
Typical.
Very typical.
⸻
By afternoon, the club was in full investigation mode.
Maps covered tables.
Laptops sat open.
Names were written across whiteboards.
The atmosphere reminded me of a detective show.
Except with significantly more tattoos.
Ghost entered carrying a folder.
The room immediately quieted.
That couldn’t be good.
Ghost rarely carried paperwork.
The giant biker dropped the folder onto the nearest table.
“Got something.”
Instant attention.
Luca nearly fell out of his chair trying to see first.
“What is it?”
Ghost opened the folder.
Photographs.
Documents.
Addresses.
A strange feeling settled in my stomach.
The room’s mood changed instantly.
Serious.
Focused.
Dangerous.
“What are those?”
Reaper glanced toward me.
Then motioned me over.
I hesitated.
A month ago, I would’ve stayed away.
Would’ve told myself none of this involved me.
Now?
I walked straight toward the table.
The photos spread across the surface.
Warehouses.
Vehicles.
People.
One face immediately caught my attention.
My breath stopped.
Daniel.
The room disappeared.
Everything disappeared.
For a second, all I could see was him.
A photograph taken several months ago.
Standing beside a black SUV.
Talking to two men.
Smiling.
Like his entire life wasn’t a lie.
Like he hadn’t destroyed mine.
The familiar anger surprised me.
Not sadness.
Not heartbreak.
Anger.
Pure anger.
“That’s him.”
Silence followed.
Reaper studied my face carefully.
Watching my reaction.
Always watching.
“What do you recognize?”
I forced myself to look again.
Details.
Focus on details.
Not emotions.
The men beside Daniel.
One looked familiar.
Very familiar.
Then it hit me.
“The motel.”
Everyone looked up.
“The man from the motel.”
Ghost immediately pulled another photograph closer.
Same man.
Different angle.
Older.
Scar above his eyebrow.
The room went silent.
Ghost nodded.
“Thought so.”
The realization hit everyone simultaneously.
The motel guy.
The bookstore guy.
The SUV.
Daniel.
Connected.
All connected.
The puzzle pieces were finally starting to fit together.
Unfortunately, the picture they formed was terrifying.
⸻
That evening, the bar closed early again.
Nobody complained.
The regulars understood.
Or at least they pretended to.
I helped Maria clean tables while Luca attempted to flirt with literally every woman who walked through the door.
The man had no shame.
Zero.
Absolutely none.
A woman near the jukebox laughed at something he said.
Luca looked incredibly proud of himself.
I shook my head.
“Does that ever work?”
“Constantly.”
“Impossible.”
“I’m charming.”
“You’re exhausting.”
The woman laughed harder.
Unfortunately for me, Luca looked victorious.
Reaper appeared behind the bar.
One look at Luca’s expression and he immediately looked suspicious.
Smart man.
Very smart man.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
Reaper looked at me.
Then at Luca.
Then back at me.
“You’re smiling.”
Heat rushed into my face.
Luca pointed dramatically.
“See? I told you she likes me.”
The room fell silent.
Dangerous silence.
The kind every sane person immediately recognizes.
Luca recognized it too.
Unfortunately, too late.
Very slowly, Reaper turned toward him.
One eyebrow lifted.
Just one.
The reaction was immediate.
Several bikers started laughing.
Ghost actually smirked.
Smirked.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen that before.
Luca raised both hands.
“Okay. Bad joke.”
“Terrible joke.”
“Excellent joke.”
The glare Reaper sent him could’ve melted steel.
I looked away to hide my smile.
Big mistake.
Because when I looked back up—
Reaper was watching me.
Not Luca.
Not the room.
Me.
Something shifted.
Just slightly.
The noise around us faded.
The air changed.
The look in his eyes made my pulse stumble.
Slow.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
For one brief moment, neither of us looked away.
Then Maria slammed a tray onto the counter.
The moment shattered instantly.
“Someone help me.”
The spell broke.
Everyone moved.
And breathing became significantly easier again.
⸻
Later that night, I found myself sitting alone on the roof.
A habit I’d accidentally developed.
The roof above Reaper’s Bar offered the best view in town.
Pine trees.
Mountains.
Stars.
Peace.
For a few precious minutes, I could almost pretend none of this was happening.
A familiar voice interrupted the silence.
“Knew I’d find you here.”
I smiled without looking.
Because I knew exactly who it was.
Reaper settled beside me.
Not too close.
Not too far.
The distance felt intentional.
Careful.
Respectful.
Which somehow made it worse.
The silence stretched comfortably.
Then:
“You okay?”
The question had become familiar.
Comforting.
I hated how much I liked hearing it.
“I’m trying.”
His shoulder brushed mine briefly.
Accidental.
Probably.
My pulse didn’t care.
“That’s enough.”
I looked toward him.
“What?”
“Trying.”
His gaze remained fixed on the horizon.
“The rest comes later.”
For some reason, the answer stayed with me.
Long after the conversation ended.
Long after Reaper disappeared back downstairs.
Long after I climbed into bed.
Because for the first time in weeks—
The future didn’t look completely hopeless.
And a frightening amount of that hope had Ryder Kane’s name written all over it.
- Writer
