Chapter Seven - The Safe House
1115 Words
Willow left the Hospital following the Sheriff back to the cabin.
The steady rumble of thunder echoed through the mountains as Willow stood in the middle of her cabin, watching deputies finish collecting evidence.
The framed photograph of her parents had been carefully returned to the bookshelf.
The kitchen table was bare again.
The lamp had been switched off.
Yet nothing felt the same.
Whoever had broken into her home hadn't stolen a single thing.
They'd come to send a message.
And it had worked.
Sheriff Mason Cole closed his notebook before looking at her with a grave expression.
"Dr. Hastings..."
"I know that look."
"It's not safe for you to stay here tonight."
Willow sighed.
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
"I can have a deputy posted outside."
"For how long?"
Mason didn't answer.
Because they both knew the truth.
One deputy couldn't guard her forever.
A knock echoed from the open front door.
Everyone turned.
Ryder "Grim" Romano stepped inside, removing his rain-soaked leather cut before hanging it over one shoulder.
His blue eyes swept the room, taking in every detail.
The disturbed furniture.
The evidence bags.
The fear Willow was trying so hard to hide.
He hated that look on her.
"What did you find?" he asked Mason.
"Nothing useful."
"Meaning?"
"The person who entered knew exactly how to avoid leaving evidence."
Ryder nodded once.
"Professional."
"That's my opinion."
Silence settled over the room.
Finally, Ryder spoke.
"She shouldn't stay here."
Willow folded her arms.
"I don't remember asking your opinion."
"No."
His voice remained calm.
"But you're getting it anyway."
She glared at him.
"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."
"I don't doubt that."
"Then what's the problem?"
"The problem..."
He stepped closer.
"...is whoever came here wants you scared."
"I'm not scared."
His eyes met hers.
"You're lying."
Willow looked away.
Because he was right.
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An hour later...
Sheriff Mason locked the cabin door.
"I'll increase patrols."
"It won't stop them."
"No."
He looked toward Ryder.
"But maybe he can."
Willow frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Mason cleared his throat.
"I think you should stay somewhere people can protect you."
"I have a hotel."
"Too public."
"I can stay at the hospital."
"Too predictable."
She looked between the two men.
Neither looked convinced by her suggestions.
Finally Ryder spoke.
"Come to the clubhouse."
The words hung in the air.
Willow blinked.
"You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious."
"I barely know you."
"You know enough."
She laughed in disbelief.
"You expect me to move into a motorcycle clubhouse?"
"For a few days."
"Absolutely not."
"It's secure."
"I'll feel like a prisoner."
"You'll be alive."
His blunt honesty caught her off guard.
Neither of them spoke for several moments.
Sheriff Mason finally broke the silence.
"I hate admitting it..."
He looked directly at Willow.
"...but it's the safest place in the county."
The ride to the Iron Reapers clubhouse was silent.
Willow followed Ryder on her own SUV while a line of motorcycles surrounded her front and back.
She realized they weren't escorting her.
They were shielding her.
Every intersection was checked.
Every vehicle that passed was watched.
Every rider remained alert.
These men lived expecting danger.
The massive iron gates opened automatically as they approached.
Beyond them sat the clubhouse.
It wasn't the rough, rundown building Willow had imagined.
Instead, it looked like a sprawling mountain lodge built from timber and stone.
Large wraparound porches overlooked the forest.
Security cameras covered every entrance.
Floodlights illuminated the property.
Several mechanics worked quietly inside a spotless garage.
Families sat around an outdoor fire pit laughing while children chased one another across the lawn.
Children?
Willow looked twice.
She hadn't expected that.
A little girl, no older than six, ran straight toward Ryder.
"Daddy!"
Willow froze.
Ryder effortlessly scooped the little girl into his arms, smiling in a way Willow had never seen before.
Warm.
Gentle.
Completely unguarded.
"You supposed to be asleep, princess?" he asked.
The little girl giggled.
"I waited up."
"I can see that."
An older woman walked over, smiling apologetically.
"Sorry, Grim. She insisted."
"No apology needed."
He kissed the child's forehead before setting her back on the ground.
"Go help Nonna make cookies."
The little girl nodded enthusiastically before disappearing into the clubhouse.
Willow couldn't hide her surprise.
"I didn't know you had a daughter."
Ryder chuckled softly.
"I don't."
She frowned.
"Then..."
"My brother died three years ago."
His smile faded.
"Emma's my niece."
Willow's heart tightened.
"And now?"
"Now she's ours."
He glanced toward the clubhouse.
"The club raises its own."
The simple statement told Willow everything she needed to know.
Family wasn't just a word here.
It was a promise.
Inside, the clubhouse felt more like a home than a headquarters.
The smell of fresh coffee drifted from the kitchen.
Old photographs lined the walls.
There were birthday cards pinned to a noticeboard.
Children's drawings hung beside framed club patches.
Willow had expected intimidation.
Instead, she found warmth.
A woman in her sixties approached with flour dusted across her apron.
"You must be Dr. Hastings."
Willow smiled politely.
"I am."
The woman pulled her into an unexpected hug.
"Thank you for saving our Rogue."
Willow blinked.
"Oh..."
"We've heard all about you."
Embarrassed, Willow looked toward Ryder.
He simply shrugged.
"News travels fast."
The older woman extended her hand.
"I'm Rosa Romano."
Willow shook it.
"You're Ryder's mother?"
He laughed.
"No."
Rosa rolled her eyes.
"I've been everyone's mother around here for thirty years."
She smiled warmly.
"You look like you haven't eaten."
Willow opened her mouth to protest.
Too late.
"I made lasagna."
Ryder smirked.
"You're not escaping that."
For the first time in months...
Willow felt herself relax.
Just a little.
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Later that night...
Ryder stood alone on the clubhouse balcony overlooking the forest.
He heard footsteps behind him.
"You couldn't sleep either?"
Willow joined him, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.
"So this is where you hide."
"When I need to think."
She leaned against the railing beside him.
"Thank you."
He looked at her.
"For what?"
"For believing me."
His expression softened.
"You don't have to thank someone for doing the right thing."
She smiled sadly.
"You'd be surprised."
Before he could answer, a motorcycle roared through the front gates at full speed.
The rider barely stopped before jumping off.
"Hawk?" Ryder called.
The Sergeant-at-Arms looked pale.
"We've got trouble."
"What happened?"
Hawk swallowed hard.
"Our warehouse."
Ryder's face darkened.
"What about it?"
"It's on fire."
The flames rising over the distant tree line answered the question before anyone else could.
Someone had just struck the Iron Reapers.
The war had officially begun.
- Writer
