Divorced by the Devil Rider

CHAPTER 15 — First Direct Threat

The knock wasn’t a delivery. It was three deliberate, even raps. My breath hitched, trapping the air in my lungs. I stood in the center of the living room, my fingers curling around the cold glass of water I’d been holding.

I wasn’t expecting anyone. No one was supposed to know I was here.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Same rhythm. My throat went bone-dry.

"Who is it?" I called out. My voice held until the very last syllable, where it cracked.

Silence followed—heavy and cold. Then, the doorknob turned. My stomach dropped. I’d locked it, I knew I had, but the sound of the metal grinding against the bolt made my knees go weak. The handle stopped, and a voice filtered through the wood. Low. Rough.

"Open up."

It wasn't Kade.

"I don’t know you," I snapped. The words felt thin, like paper. The moment I said them, I regretted it. I’d just confirmed I was inside.

A quiet chuckle came from the other side. "We know you, though."

My pulse thrummed in my fingertips, making the phone in my hand vibrate. I should call the police. I should call someone. But what would I say? That I’d become the collateral damage of a man I barely understood?

Another knock, harder this time. The door frame creaked. "Open the door."

I didn’t move. I felt pinned to the floorboards. "I’m calling security," I lied.

"No, you won't," the voice said, calm as a grave. The certainty in his tone made my skin crawl.

I moved toward the door. It was a mistake, a stupid instinct, but I had to see. I leaned into the peephole.

One man stood directly in front of the door, black jacket open, eyes cold. Another was behind him, scanning the hallway, looking at the security cameras like they were toys. They didn't care about being seen. The man in front looked straight into the peephole, as if he could see my eye on the other side.

He smiled. It wasn't friendly. He leaned closer, a thin white scar cutting across his jawline.

"Tell him," he whispered, "that Iron Wraiths don’t like being ignored."

My stomach turned. This wasn't about me. It was never about me. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You tell him we’re done waiting." He knocked once more, slow and measured.

"I don't know him!" I shouted, the fear finally bleeding into anger.

A laugh. "You live in his shadow, sweetheart. You think that makes you invisible?"

The floor felt like it was shifting. Shadow. They knew everything.

My phone buzzed in my hand, a violent vibration that made me flinch. I looked down. Kade. The man outside tilted his head, listening. "Answer it," he said softly.

How could he hear—? I hit decline. My hand was shaking so hard I almost dropped the device. I didn't want Kade to hear them. I didn't want them to hear him.

The knocking stopped. Footsteps echoed down the hall—slow, casual. They weren't running. They were leaving because the message had been delivered. I slumped against the wall, gasping for air.

I checked the peephole again. The hallway was empty. Or so it seemed.

My phone buzzed again. A text from Kade: Open the door.

My heart hammered against my ribs. No. Not him, too. I wasn't going to be a pawn in their game.

Knock.

Different rhythm. Heavier. Slower. I recognized it instantly. My hand reached for the lock before my brain could stop it.

I looked through the lens. It was him. Kade stood there alone, helmet tucked under his arm, his face as unreadable as granite. He didn't knock again. He just waited.

He knew. He always knew.

I unhooked the chain and cracked the door open. "What do you want?"

His gaze dropped to the chain, then back to my eyes. "They came," he said. It wasn't a question.

"They left," I shot back, my voice trembling.

Kade’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "They won’t stop."

"I don't belong to you, Kade. This isn't my war."

He stepped closer, not touching me, but the heat from his body rolled over me in the narrow gap. "They don’t see it that way."

"Then fix it!" I snapped. "Fix whatever mess you’ve dragged me into."

His eyes held mine, dark and steady. "I am."

That scared me more than the Wraiths. He wasn't apologizing. He was taking ownership.

My phone buzzed again. An unknown number. I swiped the screen and the blood drained from my face. It was a photo. Taken from the end of the hallway, seconds ago. It showed my door open a crack, Kade standing there, and me behind the chain.

They were still here. Watching.

Kade saw my expression. "What is it?"

I held the phone out. He didn't take it; he just looked at the screen. His entire posture shifted—a predator sensing the kill.

"Inside," he said. It wasn't a request.

I hesitated for a heartbeat, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. Then I unhooked the chain and pulled the door wide.

He stepped in, and as he did, I heard it from the street below—the low, guttural growl of multiple engines. Not one. Many.

"They're coming back," I whispered.

Kade didn't look at me. He moved toward the window, his eyes scanning the perimeter, calculating. I realized then, with a sick feeling in my gut, that the moment I let him in, I’d chosen a side.

And there was no going back.