Three Ruthless Bikers : One Temptation

Chapter Three : Whatever They Wanted

Lena's pov

The lock clicked open and I was on my feet before the door fully swung in.

Ghost walked through first. Then Axel. Then Doc.

All three of them breathing hard, dirt on their hands, something dark on Ghost's knuckles that I didn't look at too long. But standing. Unharmed. Alive.

I don't know what came over me.

Relief I think. The kind that starts in your chest and takes over everything else before you can stop it.

"You're okay," I said. My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to.

"We're fine," Axel said. He was still buzzing with adrenaline, eyes bright, chest rising and falling fast. "You should've seen Ghost out there. Sent those suits running so fast they left one of their SUVs at the gate."

"Edmund's men won't be back tonight," Ghost said. He was looking at me in that steady way he had. Like he was checking something off a list. "You're safe."

Safe.

I had not heard that word directed at me in so long it almost didn't sound real.

"Thank you," I said. I looked at all three of them when I said it. "I know I'm not your problem. I know I brought all of this to your door. So thank you."

The room went quiet.

Doc was the first to look away. He set something down on the weight bench and started checking his hands for cuts like he needed something to do.

Axel opened his mouth.

Ghost spoke first. "You're not a problem," he said. Simple and flat and somehow the most certain thing anyone had said to me in months. "You're ours. Problems are things we throw away. We don't throw away what's ours."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Axel broke the silence. "Okay that was almost poetic, Ghost. I'm impressed."

"Shut up Axel," Doc said without turning around.

They brought food down an hour later.

Nothing fancy. Bread, some meat, a bottle of water and one of something stronger that Axel set in front of me with a look that said I probably needed it.

He wasn't wrong.

We sat in that concrete room the four of us, eating in a quiet that didn't feel uncomfortable. It felt like something settling. Like four people exhaling at the same time without planning to.

I looked at Doc across the small space. He was eating with his elbows on his knees, quiet the way he always seemed to be quiet. Like silence was just where he lived.

"Doc," I said. "Is that your real name?"

He looked up. "Rook," he said. "Club calls me Doc."

"Which do you prefer?"

He thought about it for a second. Actually thought about it, like nobody had asked him that in a while. "Depends who's asking," he said finally.

"I'm asking."

His green eyes held mine. "Rook," he said quietly.

Axel looked between us with an expression I pretended not to notice.

Ghost noticed everything. He always did. But he said nothing.

I don't know who moved first.

That's the honest answer. I don't know if it was me reaching for Axel when he laughed at something and his hand landed warm over mine and just stayed there. I don't know if it was Ghost crossing the room and standing close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him and not moving away. I don't know if it was Rook's hand coming up slow and careful to brush the hair back from my face like he'd been thinking about doing it for hours.

Maybe all three at once.

Maybe it was me.

I had spent twenty two years being told what my body was worth to other people. A number. A transaction. Something to be handed over and signed for.

Tonight felt like the first time it was mine to give.

"You sure," Ghost said. Low. Just for me.

I looked at him. Then at Axel. Then at Rook's steady green eyes.

"I've never been more sure of anything," I said.

What happened next didn't feel like falling.

It felt like finally landing somewhere soft after a very long drop.

Axel's mouth found mine first, warm and unhurried, his hand cradling my jaw like I was something worth being careful with. I felt Ghost's presence behind me, solid and certain, his hands finding my waist. Rook stayed close, his forehead dropping to my temple, his breath warm against my skin, patient in a way that undid me completely.

There was nothing cold about any of it.

Nothing that felt like a transaction.

Nobody was keeping score. Nobody was taking. It was just warmth and hands and the feeling of being wanted in a way that had nothing to do with money or ownership or what I could be sold for.

At some point the lamp went out.

And in the dark, in that concrete room that smelled like motor oil and had a weight bench in the corner, I felt more like myself than I had in years.

I woke up before any of them.

Grey light coming under the door. Someone's arm heavy across my waist. Someone's steady breathing at my back.

I lay still and looked at the ceiling and waited for the regret to come.

It didn't.

What came instead was a thought. Quiet and uninvited and impossible to push back down once it surfaced.

Edmund had touched me once. Before the wedding. Three months ago when my parents had made me meet him at his house for dinner. When everyone had gone to get drinks and he'd cornered me in the hallway and put his hands on me before I could stop him and told me I should get used to it.

I had never told anyone.

I had folded it up as small as it would go and buried it under everything else and I had not thought about it once since I ran.

Until now.

I pressed my hand flat against my stomach in the dark.

It was nothing, I told myself. It was one moment. It meant nothing.

I closed my eyes and listened to the breathing of the three men around me and told myself everything was going to be fine.

I was very good at telling myself things that weren't true.