Jace The Devious Men MC

The Storm Coming

Jace

The highway is slick from the evening rain, tires cutting through the thin mist as Wiley and I ride side by side. The night feels different tonight — heavier, like something is pressing down over Willow Point. The kind of feeling that makes your instincts scream, pay attention.

Ace called me from the clubhouse about an hour ago. The Crimson Cobras aren’t just testing us anymore; they’re organizing. Word is they’ve set up a camp twenty miles north, just off the interstate. No towns nearby, just forest and shadows.

I glance over at Wiley. “Something’s coming,” I mutter. He snorts but nods. No one talks much on nights like this. We don’t need words. We need eyes and ears.

My thoughts drift briefly, as they always do, to Emma. The way she stood in the library yesterday, the storm outside, the flicker of fear and trust in her eyes. I push it away. She’s not part of this fight… not yet. But something tells me, if the Cobras get any closer, she might be.

The Devious Men aren’t just protectors of property or reputation. We’re protectors of people — and some people in this town don’t even know they need it yet.

⸻

Emma

The library never feels quite the same after dark, not even when the lights are on. Tonight, though, the stillness is almost suffocating. The storm has passed, leaving streets glistening with rain and an uneasy hush. I sit at my desk, organizing paperwork, but my mind keeps wandering back to Jace.

He’s dangerous. I know it. And yet, there’s something about the way he looks at Dawson that makes me trust him without question. There’s a gentleness beneath the edges of him — a protector, a man who carries the weight of more than just his club.

A knock at the door startles me. My heart skips. The library is locked, Dawson is upstairs reading quietly, and… no one should be here.

“Emma?” a voice calls softly.

I freeze. It’s him. Of course it’s him.

I unlock the door just enough to see Jace leaning against the frame, hooded jacket damp from the drizzle. His boots leave tiny puddles on the floor.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” I say, more sharp than I mean.

“I didn’t follow,” he says, calm but firm. “I just… I need to know you’re safe. Heavily armed people wandering near town are not part of your life plan.”

He tilts his head, his eyes scanning me like he can see every thought I’m trying to hide. And maybe he can.

I flush. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” He takes a step inside. “I can see it. I can see how tense you are. How scared you’re trying not to be.”

The weight of him in the room makes it hard to breathe. Part of me wants to step back, to maintain the barrier I’ve built over the past eight years. But part of me… wants to lean in.

“Dawson’s upstairs,” I finally say, trying to regain control of the situation.

“I know,” he says softly, and there’s a pause that lingers too long between us. He’s closer now, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off his leather jacket, smell the faint scent of rain and musk.

“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper.

“I want to,” he says. His hand brushes against mine — accidental or deliberate, I don’t know — but it ignites a spark I didn’t realize I was holding back.

The power in his presence is intoxicating, but I force myself to focus. “The storm passed,” I say. “You can go.”

He doesn’t move. Instead, he leans slightly closer, his voice dropping. “Not until I know you’re safe. Not until I know he won’t come near you.”

My heart thunders in my chest. There’s no logic in the way I feel. My pulse, my breath, the quick catch in my throat — it’s all him. And for the first time in a long time, I wonder if letting someone in could be worth the risk.

⸻

Jace

I’ve faced down worse than storms, worse than men with nothing to lose, but watching her now — alone in that library, trying to act brave — it makes every fight worth it. She doesn’t realize how much danger she’s already in just by existing in this town, just by being her.

“Emma,” I say again, softer this time. “Look at me.”

Her eyes flick to mine, wary, uncertain. And yet, something in her expression breaks the last of my restraint. My hand lifts slowly, almost against my own judgment, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. She doesn’t pull away.

She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t feel like this. But she does. And so do I.

“Jace…” she breathes, her voice trembling.

“Shh,” I murmur. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

The world outside could fall apart, the Cobras could be coming, the interstate could be flooded with trouble, but right now… right now, it’s just us.

I close the distance just enough to brush my lips against her temple, a soft, fleeting contact, and feel the tension in her shoulders ease ever so slightly.

That’s enough for now. Enough to know we both feel it. Enough to know we’re drawn together, even if the storm outside hasn’t passed.

I step back reluctantly, giving her space, but my eyes don’t leave hers. “I’ll check on you tomorrow,” I promise. “Dawson too.”

Her lips part, as if to say something, but no words come. Only the electricity between us lingers — unspoken, undeniable.

The storm is coming, I know. But somehow, with her, it feels like it might be something we can weather. Together.

⸻

Emma

When he finally leaves, the quiet of the library feels deafening. Dawson is asleep, his book open in front of him. I sit down heavily, still trembling.

What just happened? I ask myself. And more importantly… what am I going to do about it?

Something tells me Jace isn’t going anywhere. And deep down, I don’t want him to.

The storm isn’t just outside. It’s inside me now, too — building, dangerous, impossible to ignore.