Chapter Eight - No One Deserves That Man
933 Words
The main street through town was sun-warmed and quiet, dust swirling around the tires of Ronan’s matte-black bike as he rolled slow behind a pair of club trucks.
He didn’t need backup—but his men liked to be near when he left the compound. Just in case the Widow Blades got bold again.
So far, they hadn’t.
But it wasn’t Reed Graves who had Ronan’s attention today.
It was what he saw outside the diner.
Two men. Leather vests. Familiar builds.
Mason and Trey Graves.
Evelyn’s brothers.
Ronan pulled into a side lot across the street, parked the bike, and killed the engine. He stood beside it, helmet in hand, watching them through mirrored lenses.
They were walking into a corner shop, already coming out seconds later, talking fast—one of them gripping a phone like he was waiting on a call that wouldn’t come.
Ronan stayed still in the shadow of a building.
He could hear them from here.
“I told you she’s not in any of the clubs around town,” Mason muttered. “If someone picked her up, they’re not flying colors.”
Trey shook his head. “She wouldn’t leave without a reason. You saw her. The way she looked at him—she’s terrified of the old man.”
Mason lowered his voice. “Yeah, well, so am I. If he finds out we’ve been looking for her…”
“He won’t,” Trey snapped, but his eyes said otherwise. “Unless you talk too loud.”
Ronan’s jaw tightened.
So they were looking for her. Not under orders. Not for vengeance.
Because they gave a damn.
But fear—that still ruled them. Even grown men. Even his own blood.
When they turned the corner, heading toward the next shop, Mason looked up—and locked eyes with Ronan.
Trey followed.
Both froze mid-step.
Ronan didn’t move. He just stood there. Watching.
They didn’t approach. Didn’t call out. But the message was there in their eyes:
You know something.
He didn’t blink.
They kept walking.
And he didn’t stop them.
Back in the saddle, Ronan let his gaze trail after them, his face unreadable.
He didn’t owe them anything.
And Evelyn? She didn’t need more chains in her life. More loyalty to a family that hadn’t lifted a finger until it was too damn late.
They cared, maybe. But it didn’t matter anymore.
Reed Graves had f****d up all his kids.
Even the sons who’d tried to live by his rules.
Ronan turned the key, engine roaring to life beneath him.
He wouldn’t let Evelyn go back to that. Wouldn’t let her be pulled into another war just because someone remembered—too late—that she mattered.
She belonged to the Vultures now.
And Ronan?
He was going to give her the kind of life Reed Graves couldn’t even imagine.
By the time Ronan rode through the Vultures’ front gate, the sun was already dipping low, casting long shadows over the compound.
The engine barely cooled beneath him before he was off the bike and moving.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly. Maybe just a glimpse—proof she was okay. That she hadn’t run. That she hadn’t disappeared like a ghost back into the hell she came from.
But as he passed through the common room, she wasn’t there.
He checked the kitchen.
Empty.
Bar? Empty.
He found Remy outside on the back patio, lighting a cigarette with that calm, knowing look on her face. The one that usually meant she knew what he was thinking before he said a word.
“She in her room?” Ronan asked without preamble.
Remy took a drag. “Last I saw her was this morning.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “She hasn’t come out all day?”
“Nope.” Remy exhaled smoke through her nose. “Took a shower, went quiet again. That was it. Door hasn’t opened since.”
Ronan’s jaw ticked.
“She eat?”
Remy shrugged. “I left a tray outside her door around noon. It’s gone now, so she must’ve taken it in.”
Ronan didn’t respond. Just stared past Remy toward the hallway.
“She’s not used to people giving a damn,” Remy said softly. “This? Being seen? It’s loud to someone who’s lived invisible.”
Ronan didn’t break his gaze. “I’m not trying to scare her.”
“I know.” Remy looked at him carefully. “But even your kindness comes with a weight, Ronan. Especially to a girl like that.”
He nodded once, slowly.
Still, his body was already moving—turning from the patio, crossing the compound again, boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He passed by club members, nodded to a few, ignored most.
His eyes were locked on one door.
Hers.
He stopped in front of it. Still. Silent.
There was no noise from inside. No movement. Just stillness behind the wood.
Ronan didn’t knock. Not yet. He didn’t want to rattle her. He knew what a closed door meant to a woman like Evelyn.
It could be protection…
Or it could be a cell she locked herself in.
And he wasn’t about to kick it open.
So instead, he just stood there, arms folded across his chest, brow furrowed as he listened to the quiet behind the door.
Not angry. Not frustrated.
Concerned.
She was safe. He knew that.
But safe and okay were two very different things.
And Ronan Cade wasn’t the kind of man who left someone drowning behind silence.
- Writer
