Running From My Abusive Husband, Claimed By A Biker

Chapter Seven

Emma's POV

Raven simply snapped the laptop closed with a quiet, deliberate click, slid her flash drive into her pocket, and looked at me with calm, calculating eyes.

“Cybersecurity,” Raven said, her voice calm. “Didn’t expect you to know command-line overrides.”

I paused, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the sink. I hadn't expected her to recognize what I'd been doing."I... I studied it in college. Before I got married. It was just a simple directory path error."

"Nothing about that encryption was simple," Raven replied evenly, throwing her bag over her shoulder. She turned her gaze to Ryder, her tone professional and crisp. "The files are decrypted. I’m going to run them through the server upstairs. We’ll go over the intel at the table tonight."

"Got it," Ryder replied quietly.

The guys offered respectful nods as she moved past them. Once Raven stepped out, her leather boots echoing down the hallway, the tight atmosphere in the kitchen eased just a fraction.

"Good work with the drive," Jax said smoothly, offering a polite nod as he placed his empty plate in the sink. "Saved us a whole lot of wasted time."

"I was just glad I could help," I murmured softly.

Through it all, Ryder hadn't moved. He pushed off the counter, his broad frame casting a long shadow as he stepped over to the sink. Setting his empty mug down, his broad shoulder brushed lightly against mine. The sudden proximity—the heat radiating off his body, leather, and dark coffee—made my pulse jump.

He leaned down slightly, his voice a low, gravelly rumble intended only for me. "You're full of surprises, aren't you, Emma?"

I looked up, meeting his eyes. "I had a life before Shawn," I whispered. "I used to be someone else."

Ryder held my gaze for a beat. Something subtle shifted in his expression—a dark, intense curiosity that sent a quiet shiver down my spine—before his stoic mask slipped back into place. "Go check on your kid," he said gruffly, turning away. "He's awake."

My heart did a strange flutter. "Noah?"

Before Ryder could answer, the soft pitter-patter of bare feet echoed down the hallway. "Mommy?"

I immediately dried my hands on a towel and turned toward the doorway. Noah stood there, rubbing his big brown eyes with one tiny fist, his messy curls sticking up in every direction. In his other hand, he clutched his worn-out toy motorcycle tightly against his chest.

When he realized he was standing in a room full of tall, tattooed men standing around me, he froze. His tiny chest heaved once in a nervous gasp. But instead of running away, his little brow furrowed.

He darted forward, throwing himself directly in front of my legs. Noah spread his tiny arms wide, holding his head raised high, his chin sticking out in fierce defiance—like a little prince protecting a damsel in distress. He glared up at the giant men as if to say that if they dared touch a single hair on his mother's head, they’d have to go through him first.

For a second, silence filled the kitchen.

Then, a deep, gravelly chuckle broke out from Tank. Jax smirked, shaking his head, and even a few of the hard-faced guys near the coffee pot burst into low, amused laughter.

Noah blinked, surprised by their laughter. He looked up at Ryder—the tallest, scariest one of them all—and then his little eyes widened as the fog of sleep and fear cleared. Through the scary storm last night, through his gasping for air, he remembered the deep, loud vroom of the engines and the dark shadows that had pulled him out of the cold car.

"You..." Noah squeaked, his arms dropping an inch as he looked at Ryder. "You're the loud bike guys?"

I quickly knelt beside him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "It's okay, baby," I whispered into his hair. "Remember last night when you couldn't breathe? These are Grandpa's friends. They brought the doctor who gave you your medicine and kept us safe from the rain."

Noah's wide brown eyes shifted from me back to Ryder, his fear instantly morphing into pure, childlike wonder. To a five-year-old boy who thought motorcycles were the coolest thing in the world, these weren't scary strangers anymore—they were the giant bike guys who had rescued him.

"You ride the real loud ones?" Noah asked, his voice full of awe as he held up his small plastic toy.

Ryder didn't smile, but he didn't turn away either. He held the boy's gaze with a quiet, grounded gravity. "Yeah, kid. We ride the real ones."

"Are they fast?"

"Fast enough," Ryder said, his deep voice flat and direct. He glanced at me, then back down at Noah. "Eat your food, take your medicine, and if you listen to your mom, I'll let you look at mine in the garage later."

Noah's jaw practically hit the floor. He gave a sharp, eager nod. "I'll be super good!"

Ryder gave a single, firm nod, turning back toward the hallway.

Noah immediately abandoned his toy on the floor, scrambled up onto a wooden chair at the table, and grabbed his spoon with both hands. He began shoving oatmeal into his mouth as fast as his small jaw could chew, barely pausing to swallow. "Whoa, slow down, Noah," I said, hurrying over to the table and placing a gentle hand on his back. "The food isn't going anywhere, and neither is the motorcycle. You're going to choke."

Noah swallowed hard, his cheeks puffed out like a little squirrel's. "But Mommy, he said if I finish my food, I get to see his!"

"I know," I laughed softly, wiping a smear of oatmeal off his chin with a napkin. "But you still have to eat like a human being, take your inhaler, and wait until Ryder is free. Patience."

I sat on the edge of the couch, watching him, feeling a heavy weight slowly lift off my chest. "He's a resilient kid," a deep voice rumbled nearby.

I looked up. Ryder was leaning against the doorframe, a fresh black shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders.

"He's been through a lot," I said softly, pulling my knees up against my chest.

Ryder stepped closer, his presence drawing all my focus. "The old man called earlier," he said, his tone dropping low. "He's wrapping up his business in Japan as fast as he can. But until he gets here, your husband is looking for you."

The quiet relief in my chest vanished instantly. "Did... did Shawn call the police?"

"He reported his wife missing, claiming you took your son while mentally unstable," Ryder said grimly. "He's got state troopers keeping an eye out. But he doesn't know about this compound. And he sure as hell doesn't know you're under protection."

Panic clawed at my throat. "He'll never stop, Ryder. He has money, power... he'll keep searching."