Jace The Devious Men MC

Shadows at the Door

Emma

The wind rattled the windows that night, sharp and insistent. The library was empty now — Dawson safely tucked into bed at home, the quiet of Willow Point pressing in like a weight. I should have felt relief. I should have told myself everything was fine.

But I didn’t.

The shadows seemed to move differently tonight. The kind of movement that doesn’t belong to trees or the wind. My eyes flicked to the front door, then the back. Everything felt… off.

And then I noticed it: a car, dark and unfamiliar, parked a little too long in front of the house. I froze, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. My mind raced, heart thudding.

I told myself to be rational. Maybe it’s just a neighbor. Maybe it’s nothing.

But the feeling in my gut was screaming at me otherwise.

Minutes later, there was a soft rattle at the back door. Just a tap — barely noticeable, but enough to send my pulse skyrocketing.

I grabbed the baseball bat under the counter, moving slowly toward the noise. My hands shook. My breathing was shallow. And yet… I couldn’t stop thinking about Jace.

If he were here, I wouldn’t be scared.

I whispered his name to myself like a charm: Jace.

Before I could move further, the door swung open — and there he was.

⸻

Jace

I didn’t expect to be greeted like this. Rainwater clinging to his leather jacket, headlights reflecting off wet streets, but Emma… standing in the dark kitchen, tense and guarded, holding a baseball bat like it could save her from the world.

“She shouldn’t be here,” I muttered under my breath. “She shouldn’t be scared like this.”

Emma stiffened at my voice. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, more sharp than she intended.

“I told you I would check,” I said simply. “You’re not alone. Not tonight.”

The shadows moved behind her — just the curtains swaying in the wind — but I could see the fear in her eyes. And it made my chest tighten.

“You came…” she whispered.

“I did,” I said. I stepped closer, careful not to startle her, letting my presence fill the small space. “And I’ll stay until it’s safe.”

Her eyes softened, but her lips pressed together in determination. She didn’t want to lean on me. She wanted to handle this on her own. But I could see it in the way her hands trembled, the way her breath caught when the wind rattled the windows again.

I reached for her hand gently. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she let me guide her to the couch, sitting down beside her. The room smelled faintly of rain and the library’s old books — warm, comforting, safe.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she admitted, voice low. “I can’t keep worrying about what’s out there.”

“You don’t have to,” I said softly, letting my hand rest over hers. “I’ll handle it. You don’t have to face this alone anymore.”

Her gaze met mine, and for a heartbeat, the tension between us shifted. There was something electric in the way she looked at me — vulnerability wrapped in strength.

I leaned in slightly, careful, testing the waters. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and I brushed my lips lightly against her temple, a touch that was intimate without crossing the line.

Her breath hitched.

“Jace…” she whispered, the name trembling on her lips.

“Shh,” I murmured. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

And for a few moments, it was true. The storm outside, the dangers lurking beyond Willow Point, didn’t matter. All that mattered was the small bubble of space we created, fragile and fleeting, where she could let herself relax, even just a little.

When I finally pulled back, the tension hadn’t gone entirely, but the fear had softened. She looked up at me, lips slightly parted, eyes wide.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I said, my thumb brushing her hand. “Not now. Just know I’m here. Always.”

And then I left. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to — because the world outside wouldn’t stop for us, and my place was on the streets, keeping Willow Point safe.

But even as I walked back to my bike, the thought of her sitting there, trembling but still brave, stayed with me. Like a spark I couldn’t ignore.

⸻

Emma

The house felt emptier after he left. My pulse was still racing, my skin still tingling from the brief, fleeting touch of his lips at my temple.

I shouldn’t want him like this.

I shouldn’t need him like this.

And yet, I did.

I sat there for a long time, the baseball bat forgotten beside me, the storm outside finally quieting. My thoughts kept returning to Jace — his voice, his eyes, the strength he radiates, and the soft, careful way he touched me without ever crossing the line.

I wanted to trust him. I wanted to feel safe with him. And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to imagine what that might feel like — letting someone protect me, letting someone in.

The shadows at the door weren’t just outside anymore. Some of them were inside me, stirring something I hadn’t felt in years: hope.

⸻

Jace

Riding through the dark streets back to the clubhouse, the night air stings my lungs. But my mind isn’t on the rain, or the wet roads, or the Cobras plotting somewhere out there. It’s on her. Emma.

She doesn’t know it yet, but she just walked into a world she can’t leave — and she’ll need me.

And I’ll be ready.

Because I can’t let anything touch her. Not her past. Not the Cobras. Not even the storm inside her that she’s so carefully hiding.

She’s mine to protect. And I don’t plan on letting anything or anyone take her from me.