Chapter Thirty – One - Still Waters, Stirred Ground
1688 Words
The clubhouse was slowly waking up — that in-between hour where the chaos of the night had long passed, but the grind of the day hadn’t hit full speed yet.
Avery sat outside on the porch bench, a blanket wrapped around her legs, a warm mug of coffee nestled between her hands. The early sun painted soft streaks of gold across the concrete.
Reyes sat beside her, his own coffee untouched for now, legs stretched out, boots crossed at the ankle. He didn’t speak much in the mornings, but he didn’t need to. Their quiet camaraderie had become part of her new rhythm.
“You ever sleep?” she asked without looking at him.
“Occasionally,” he replied, smirking slightly.
She smiled into her cup. “You and Colt both. Sleep-deprived and stubborn.”
“That’s how we keep this place running.”
The silence returned, comfortable. Familiar.
Until Reyes’ phone buzzed.
He glanced down at the screen, his relaxed posture shifting in a flash. The quiet steadiness that always clung to him snapped into tension as his eyes scanned the message. His jaw tightened.
Avery noticed immediately.
“What is it?”
Reyes stood, already slipping the phone back into his pocket.
“Stay here,” he said. “Need to bring this to Colt.”
“Reyes…”
He paused and looked at her.
“It’s not just noise, is it?”
He didn’t answer that directly. Just gave her a small, meaningful nod — and then disappeared inside the clubhouse.
Avery stayed still, fingers tightening around the warm ceramic in her hands.
The morning felt colder suddenly.
Inside the Office – Minutes Later
Colt was already at his desk, going over the week’s logistics when Reyes pushed the door open without knocking.
One look at his VP's face and Colt knew—whatever peace they’d had, it was over.
“Talk,” Colt said immediately, sitting up straighter, voice sharp.
Reyes shut the door behind him and tossed his phone down on the desk, the message pulled up.
“Word came in from our guy watching the outer edge of town. That name we thought was dead? It’s not.”
Colt’s jaw tightened. “You sure?”
“He didn’t use his real name, but he left enough of a footprint this time. We’re looking at Avery’s ghost. He’s here, or close enough.”
The temperature in the room dropped.
Colt leaned back slowly in his chair, fingers drumming the edge of the desk.
“We’re not letting him circle any closer,” he said, voice cold and hard. “We handle this fast, clean, and quiet. No rumors. No panic. No time for him to even realize we’re moving.”
“Already flagged two of our guys to tail him. Discreet. Waiting on your word.”
Colt didn’t hesitate. “Bring him in. I want him somewhere off-grid before the sun sets. Alive if possible. If not, you make the call.”
Reyes nodded once. “Copy that.”
“And Reyes,” Colt added, his voice low. “If this guy came back to finish what he started, we cut the story off at the throat.”
“He won’t get anywhere near her,” Reyes replied, steel in his tone.
Colt stood, grabbing his cut off the back of the chair and throwing it over his shoulders.
“Good. Let’s remind everyone why no one crosses this club — especially not the president’s woman.”
The two men left the office side by side, calm but deadly.
War was back on the table.
And this time, there’d be no warning shots.
Same Morning – Back Road Outside Town
The van was packed to the brim — labeled care boxes stacked in neat rows, filled with canned goods, hygiene kits, and clean blankets. Avery had helped organize every detail. The charity program was her way of giving back, and Frankie had insisted on tagging along as muscle, just in case.
They laughed for most of the drive. Light, easy conversation. Music humming in the background.
“You think Colt’ll ever let me run one of these drop-offs on my own?” Avery asked, checking the map on her phone. “Feels a little dramatic to always need an escort just to hand out soap and granola bars.”
“Dramatic?” Frankie said, laughing. “Baby, you’re the president’s woman. You sneeze in the wrong direction and the whole damn club goes on lockdown.”
Avery rolled her eyes. “Overkill.”
“It’s called love. Colt-style.”
They were halfway down a quiet back road when it happened.
The black SUV came out of nowhere.
Frankie slammed the brakes too late — metal screeched, the front of the van crushed into the side of the other vehicle. Before they could even process the impact, doors flew open.
Men in black masks.
Guns drawn.
One smashed Frankie’s door open, yanked her out by the collar. Another wrenched open Avery’s side and dragged her from the seat.
“HEY—!” Frankie screamed, thrashing.
“Leave her,” one of the men barked. “He’ll need someone to tell him where she went.”
Avery kicked. Fought. Bit down on a gloved hand until she tasted blood.
But it didn’t matter.
A hard blow landed to the side of her head, and the world tilted into darkness.
Minutes Later – Side of the Road
Frankie sat in the dirt, blood running from her nose, hands shaking. Her voice cracked as she called Colt.
“They took her,” she whispered. “Colt, they took Avery.”
Unknown Location – Somewhere Cold, Dim
The first thing Avery felt was pressure.
Her wrists. Her ankles. Something tight and unrelenting bound them, plastic zip ties or rope, cutting into her skin.
Then came the pain — dull and throbbing at her temple, spreading across the side of her head like a bruise bloomed there overnight.
Her eyes fluttered open.
Dim lighting. Bare concrete floor. The metallic scent of rust and something else — gasoline maybe — thick in the air. Her mouth was dry. Gagged. Her heart pounded too hard, too fast.
Panic clawed its way up her throat.
But she swallowed it down.
Think. Survive. Listen.
She stayed still, breathing through her nose, straining to make out every sound.
Voices — faint, male. Two, maybe three. One barking orders, the other mocking him. Accents unclear. No names.
“…said no one would be stupid enough to come for her here.”
“…club will burn the world down.”
“…let them. We’ve got leverage.”
Her stomach twisted.
Leverage. She was leverage.
The thought made her sick, but it also lit something sharp and bright in her chest: rage.
They thought they could use her.
They didn’t know Colt.
More importantly, they didn’t know her.
Avery kept her breathing slow. Counted the distance of their voices. Memorized the rhythm of the footsteps. Took mental snapshots of what little she could see.
Every second she stayed quiet was one second closer to being rescued — or figuring a way out herself.
Still, fear clung to her.
Not of death.
But of never getting to see Colt again.
Never getting to say she loved him in the ordinary ways. The small ways. Like morning coffee. Like stealing the last donut. Like rolling over at night and feeling his hand settle against her bare waist.
She hadn’t done enough of that yet.
Not nearly enough.
So she closed her eyes.
Breathe. Focus. Survive.
Same Location – Moments Later
The steel door loomed ahead, thick with reinforced locks — the kind built to keep people in, not out.
But Avery wasn’t thinking about fear anymore.
She wasn’t thinking about Colt or what they were doing to rescue her.
She was thinking about getting out before anyone could use her.
Before she became a weapon in someone else’s war.
She pressed her ear to the door one more time — nothing. No voices. No footsteps.
Just silence.
She pulled back, took the broken chair leg in both hands, and jammed the blunt end between the door handle and the frame. She wrenched it down hard, trying to force the lock.
It didn’t budge.
So she backed up, eyes scanning the room again. Her gaze landed on a rusty panel near the floor — a vent cover, barely hanging on.
She dropped to her knees and yanked at the metal. It groaned loudly. One of the screws gave way, then another. Her fingers bled as she pried it off completely, revealing a dark, narrow crawl space.
No idea where it led.
But it led somewhere.
And anywhere was better than here.
She dropped flat onto her stomach and wriggled inside, breath short, dust choking her lungs. The space was barely wider than her shoulders.
But she kept moving.
Every scrape of her elbow against metal made her wince. Every clang of her knees against bolts made her grit her teeth.
The path split. One way curved toward the echo of voices. The other, downward and quieter.
She went quiet.
Always move toward silence.
She followed the downward slant, inch by inch, until she saw faint light ahead — slatted shadows across concrete.
A lower level? Another room?
Her heart pounded harder now, adrenaline in full control. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down.
She had to get out.
She reached the end of the tunnel, pushed gently against the vent cover — loose. One push and it fell open.
Avery dropped through and landed hard on the floor.
She winced — ankle flaring with pain — but she was standing.
She was out of that damn room.
She had no idea where she was, but she was closer now.
Closer to escape.
Closer to home.
Closer to Colt.
Avery steadied herself against the cold wall, chest heaving, every muscle wired with adrenaline.
She didn’t know where she was.
But she wasn’t tied down anymore.
She wasn’t waiting to be saved.
She was saving herself.
- Writer
