Saving Sami

Chapter 14 The Quiet War

Sami-The floor was cold concrete. Her wrists were raw, the cuts from the zip ties still open and burning. But she didn’t care. Not anymore.
Now she had something she hadn’t had before. A reason.
They weren’t just trying to hurt Ace. They were trying to destroy everything he loved. Everything they’d built together. Reaper. Grimm. The club.
They’d taken her for leverage. They thought she was weak. But they’d made one mistake.They left her breathing.
She paced the small room, memorizing the angles—where the sliver of light hit the floor, how many steps it took to reach the door (eight and a half), the timing between the guard’s footsteps.
Every little detail mattered.
The guy they called Ghost hadn’t shown his face yet. But his voice was unforgettable—smooth, sinister, too calm for someone so violent.
She remembered his words:
“You break the boy.”
“Make the call to the VP.”
If she had any chance at surviving this, it was going to come from using her mind, not waiting on a hero.


She sat down in the far corner of the room, closest to the wall where the voices echoed in best. The concrete there was cracked near the base. Her nails dug into it, prying gently.
Something shifted.
A small chunk came loose.


Behind it—darkness. Hollow space. A possible vent?
Her heart thudded. She slid the piece back into place just as the door creaked open.
He walked in like he owned the world.
Black boots, pressed jeans, fitted shirt. No tattoos, no colors—but he didn’t need them. His presence screamed control.


“Miss Summers,” he said with a smile too smooth to be sincere. “Or do you prefer Sami?”
She didn’t answer.
Ghost crouched in front of her. “You’re quite the complication. I was hoping they’d crack faster.”
“They will,” she said softly, watching his face for tells.
“Oh, I know. Especially your boy. Ace, right?”


Her stomach twisted, but she kept her face flat.
Ghost’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “He’s reckless. I like that in a man. Makes him easier to manipulate.”
“What do you want?” she asked, already knowing.
“Chaos,” he replied simply. “And maybe a little revenge.”
He stood. “But you’ll be part of that, one way or another.”
As he turned to leave, she said, “You won’t win.”
Ghost paused at the door. He didn’t look back.
“I already am.”


Hours passed. She didn’t sleep.
She waited until the guard returned—Sami had clocked him before. Tall, impatient, distracted by his phone. Same boots every time. He was the weakest link.
She faked a cough—violent, loud.
He cursed, came inside, phone still in hand.
“Jesus, girl, you sick or—”
That’s when she lunged.
She slammed into him with everything she had, knocking the phone from his hand and going straight for his waistband. No gun. But a switchblade.
Her hands were fast. Desperate. The moment she gripped it, he grabbed her wrist.
They struggled, bodies crashing into the cot, the wall. She drove her knee upward—hard. He dropped.
The blade hit the ground. She scrambled for it, sliced her wrist zip tie clean off, and backed into the corner, blade raised, chest heaving.
Another guard shouted from outside. Too late.
Sami lunged again, this time toward the wall—toward the cracked vent she’d found. She jammed the blade into it, pried hard, and squeezed through the opening before the second man got the door fully open.


They shouted. One fired a shot. It missed.
She was gone.
The vent was narrow and filthy, but she didn’t stop crawling. Sami had no idea where it led.
But forward was the only direction that mattered now.
She wasn’t just trying to survive.
She was going to make them pay.

Meanwhile, Back at the Clubhouse 
Ace hadn’t moved from the war table in hours.
He sat there, eyes fixed on the image of Ghost that Reaper had printed out and tacked to the corkboard like a damn trophy. His foot bounced. His fist tapped the table. Over and over.
She was out there. Hurt. Alone. And he’d walked into a f*****g trap.
He couldn’t shake the sound of her voice from that video. Or the look in her eyes. Not fear—devastation.
Grimm walked in with two burner phones in hand. “We’ve been tracking cartel communication lines. Club contacts in Texas say Ghost has gone rogue before. Might not be working with full permission.”


Ace grabbed one of the phones. “Then maybe we can use that.”
Before Grimm could answer, Reaper’s phone buzzed. Private number. He stared at it for a second, then answered.
“This is Reaper.”
There was static. Then a voice that chilled the entire room. Ghost.
“Well well. Didn’t think you’d pick up so fast.”
Reaper’s expression didn’t change. “Speak.”
“I’m a fair man,” Ghost said smoothly. “And I believe in trades.”
Ace was already moving closer, trying to hear. Reaper didn’t stop him.


“I’ve got your little redhead,” Ghost went on. “She’s feisty. But she’ll keep. For now.”
Ace’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“You want her back?” Ghost continued. “I want you, Reaper. You. Alone. My guys will send a location.”
“Why me?” Reaper asked, cool as ever.
Ghost chuckled. “You don’t remember? You humiliated me. Said I wasn’t ‘club material.’ Said I didn’t have the heart. So I built my own f*****g empire.”
Silence.
Then Ghost’s voice darkened. “Bring yourself, or you’ll get a piece of her in the mail.”
He hung up.


GRIMM-
Ace was already yelling. “We’re not letting you go alone. He’s bluffing—he doesn’t want you, he wants a war.”
Reaper lit a cigarette. “That’s exactly what he wants.”
“But you’re not giving it to him, right?” Grimm asked.
Reaper looked up. “Not yet.”
Grimm stepped in front of Ace, trying to hold the line. “We need a real plan. Something that gets her back and ends him. Clean.”
But Ace was already slipping.
“We’re out of time!” he snapped. “She could be dying while we sit around drawing maps!”


“Then we use you,” Grimm said to Reaper. “As bait. But on our terms.”
Reaper exhaled smoke slowly. “Get me the location. Get me eyes on every route between here and wherever he’s hiding.”
“And Ace?” Grimm asked.
Reaper looked at him hard. “Keep him on a leash. Because if he cracks again, we lose her.”
Ace didn’t respond. He just stared at the last message Sami had sent him. The text read: “I love you. Please don’t stop fighting.”
He would fight.
And he’d burn the whole world down to get her back.


Ace hadn’t moved since Ghost’s voice disappeared off the call.
He sat in the dark clubhouse lounge, a bottle of Jack in one hand, his phone in the other. His mind kept running the same loop—her voice, her face, the cot, the bindings, the terror in her eyes.
Then—
Buzz.
Unknown number. No caller ID.
Just a text.
Ghost:
Thought you’d like to know…
Your little redhead tried to run.
Cat and mouse.
She lost.
The screen blurred in his vision.
Ace stood so fast the bottle slipped from his hand and shattered across the floor.
“f**k!”


He roared loud enough to shake the rafters. Grimm and Reaper came running, weapons in hand, thinking it was an attack. But no. It was worse.
Ace was standing in the middle of the broken glass, phone raised like it was proof of the world ending.
“He’s hurting her. Right now. And we’re sitting here doing nothing!”
Grimm snatched the phone and read it. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t react.
Reaper’s eyes flicked over the message. “It’s bait.”
“He’s lying,” Grimm said. “He’s trying to crack you.”
“He already f*****g has!” Ace shouted. “She ran. She was close, and they got her back.”


He was trembling now—grief, rage, guilt all wrapped together.
Reaper stepped closer. “You want to help her? Get your s**t together. We strike smart. We strike once. Or we lose her forever.”
Cut back to Sami:
She’s hiding in a narrow crawlspace now, hearing the guards shouting. She’s gotten farther than anyone expected. She’s bleeding. Exhausted.
But she’s alive. And she’s not going back.