Chapter 6
1122 Words
I couldn't sleep. The guest room at the Hellfire compound was nicer than my apartment, with its queen-sized bed and thick curtains, but my mind wouldn't shut off.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryder's face inches from mine. Felt his hands, gentle despite their strength. Heard his voice saying he'd keep me safe.
A knock at the door made me jump.
"Just me." Doc's voice. "Brought you something for the pain."
I wrapped the blanket around myself and opened the door. She handed me two pills and a glass of water, then leaned against the doorframe.
"How are you holding up?"
"I'm okay." The lie came automatically.
"Sure you are." She crossed her arms. "That's why you're still dressed and standing guard by the door at three in the morning."
I looked down at my clothes—still wearing the jeans and t-shirt Doc had given me after treating my injuries. She was right. I hadn't even tried to sleep.
"Old habits," I said.
"With Marcus, you had to be ready to run."
I nodded.
"No one's getting past our security," she said. "And even if they did, they'd have to go through Ryder first."
My heart skipped at his name. "She barely knows me."
"Doesn't matter." Doc's eyes were kind but knowing. "Some things just are."
Thunder rolled outside, and rain started hitting the windows. A storm was rolling in.
"Get some rest," Doc said, turning to leave. "Or at least try."
I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the rain. It reminded me of painting—all those storms I used to capture on canvas before Marcus decided my art was a waste of time.
Another knock, softer this time.
My pulse jumped when I opened the door. Ryder stood there, hair damp from the rain, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans instead of his leather cut.
"Did I wake you?"
"No, I was up."
He nodded like he'd expected that. "Want to see something?"
I should have said no. Should have locked the door and tried to sleep. Instead, I followed him down the hallway.
The clubhouse was quiet except for the storm and our footsteps. Ryder led me to a door I hadn't noticed before, then up a narrow staircase.
"Close your eyes," he said when we reached another door.
"Why?"
"Trust me."
And that was the crazy thing—I did. After everything with Marcus, after three years of learning not to trust anyone, I closed my eyes.
I heard the door open. Felt cool air on my face. Ryder's hand found mine, warm and steady.
"Okay," he said. "Look."
We were on the roof. Rain fell all around us, but we were under a covered area with cushioned benches and string lights. The whole town spread out below, lightning flashing in the distance.
"I come here to think," Ryder said. "Thought you might like it too."
"It's beautiful." The words felt small compared to the ache in my chest.
He sat on one of the benches, and I joined him. Not too close, but close enough to feel his warmth.
"Earlier," he said after a while, "at the gate—"
"We don't have to talk about it."
"Maybe we should."
Lightning split the sky. I counted to three before thunder followed.
"I wanted to kiss you," he said.
My heart stumbled. "I wanted you to."
He turned to face me, and suddenly the storm wasn't the most dangerous thing on that roof.
"Marcus will come looking for me," I whispered.
"Let him try."
"You don't know what he's capable of."
"And he doesn't know what I'm capable of." Ryder's voice was steel wrapped in velvet. "Not when it comes to protecting what's mine."
That word again. Mine. But this time it didn't feel like a cage.
"I'm not yours." My voice shook. "I'm not anyone's."
"No." He reached up, brushed a strand of hair from my face. "You're your own. I just want to make sure you stay free to be that."
The thunder was closer now, but I barely heard it over my heartbeat.
"Why?" I had to know. "Why help me? Why risk everything?"
"Because the moment you walked into that diner, something in me recognized something in you." His fingers lingered on my cheek. "Like a storm recognizing another storm."
This time, when he leaned in, nothing interrupted us.
His lips touched mine, soft at first, asking permission. When I pressed closer, his arms came around me, and the kiss deepened into something that felt like falling and flying at the same time.
I tasted rain and promise and possibility. His hands stayed gentle, but I felt the strength in them, the power he held back. For me. Always for me.
When we finally broke apart, I was trembling again. But not from fear.
"We're going to have to be careful," he said, forehead resting against mine. "Marcus, the Cobras—our rivals, that witch, Raven—they're all going to come for us."
"I know."
"And you still want this? Want me?"
I looked up at him, at the way the lightning turned his eyes to silver. "I've spent three years being afraid. I don't want to be afraid anymore."
He kissed me again, harder this time, like he was sealing a promise.
The storm raged around us, but for the first time in years, I felt safe in the middle of it.
We stayed on that roof until dawn, talking about everything and nothing. He told me about his mother, about finding her broken body after her boyfriend's last beating.
I told him about my art, about the storms I used to paint before Marcus broke my brushes.
"I'll buy you new ones," he said.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." His thumb traced my bottom lip. "I want to see your storms."
Morning came too soon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. The storm had passed, but something else had taken root—something that felt like hope.
As we walked back downstairs, Ryder's phone buzzed. His face darkened as he read the message.
"What is it?"
"Marcus." He showed me the screen. "He's offering a reward for information about you. Fifty thousand dollars."
Fear tried to claw its way back in, but I pushed it down. "What do we do?"
Ryder pulled me close, pressed a kiss to my forehead. "We fight. And we win."
I believed him. God help me, I believed him.
Because sometimes the most dangerous thing isn't the storm itself—it's what happens when two storms collide.
And Marcus had no idea what was coming for him.
- Writer
