Chapter Twenty-Five - The Warning
1455 Words
The streets were quieter than usual for a Saturday afternoon. Overcast skies pressed low over the town, casting everything in a dull gray that matched the mood already simmering under Ronan’s skin.
He stood beside Maddox, both men parked just off Main Street, watching from a distance as two familiar figures moved from store to store. Reed’s sons—grit in their expressions, tension in their shoulders, eyes scanning every face they passed.
Desperation looked the same in any man: too alert, too restless.
“They’re searching again,” Maddox muttered.
“They’re close to crossing a line,” Ronan replied, stepping off the curb and heading straight for them.
The brothers looked up the moment they heard his boots on the pavement. One of them stiffened immediately. The other tried to square his shoulders like he was ready for a fight—but it was all front. Ronan could see right through it.
He stopped a few feet away. Calm. Still.
Deadly.
“She’s with me,” Ronan said, voice quiet but laced with iron. “Evelyn.”
The younger brother’s eyes widened. The older one kept his mouth shut, jaw twitching.
“If you know what’s good for you,” Ronan continued, “you’ll stop looking. You’ll walk away. You’ll let her go.”
Neither of them moved.
“She’s safe. Happy. And under my protection now,” Ronan said, his tone sharper. “Which means no one touches her. No one asks about her. And no one brings trouble near her name.”
Maddox stood at his side now, silent but solid. Backup that needed no introduction.
“She doesn’t want to be found by him,” Ronan added, letting the unspoken weight of Reed’s name hang between them like a blade.
The older brother finally spoke. “You don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out.”
“I do,” Ronan said. “And that’s why I’m here. Because when he starts swinging blind to take back control, he’ll drag everyone down with him.”
The silence thickened.
“You think he’s still got the grip he used to,” Ronan went on, softer now. “He doesn’t. Men are whispering. The walls are cracking. And if you two don’t get smart, you’re going to fall right with him.”
The younger one looked shaken now. The older one just stared, breathing through his nose, conflicted.
Ronan gave them one last look. “Turn around. Protect yourselves. Because if I catch either of you sniffing around again—I won’t be this nice twice.”
Then he walked away, Maddox beside him, boots echoing down the street.
They didn’t have to look back to know the message had landed.
Because when a man like Ronan says she’s under his protection—
He means it with everything he’s got.
The garage was quiet when Ronan returned.
The sky had started to darken outside, the late afternoon light filtering in through the high windows. The hum of tools and bikes had faded—only the smell of grease, engine oil, and that familiar leather scent lingered in the air.
Evelyn was waiting.
She sat on one of the benches near the back, hands curled around a mug she didn’t seem to be drinking from. The moment she saw him, her eyes softened—but she didn’t speak right away.
Maddox, a few feet behind Ronan, caught her gaze and gave a small nod before silently slipping out, leaving them alone.
Ronan slowed as he approached her.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough around the edges.
She stood. “I should be asking you that.”
He gave a tired half-smile, but didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The weight of everything he was carrying—the tension in his shoulders, the edge in his jaw—told her enough.
“You don’t have to tell me about your burdens,” she said softly. “I just want to hold you.”
Ronan’s chest tightened at that. He didn’t know how to respond—how to receive that kind of comfort. He’d always been the protector, the shield. No one had ever offered to hold him.
Until her.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. No hesitation. No fear.
Just warmth.
She held him tight—her cheek against his chest, her hands splayed across his back like she wanted to keep him grounded.
And for a moment, he let himself sink into her.
Just breathe.
Just feel.
But the heat between them… it was always there. Always waiting just beneath the surface.
And when she tilted her head back to look up at him, her lips parted slightly, eyes searching his—
He lost the last thread of his restraint.
His mouth crashed against hers, pulling her into him with one strong hand gripping her waist. The other found the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss, hungry and raw, like he’d been holding it back for hours.
Evelyn didn’t just respond—she reached for him, kissed him back like she needed it too. Like she wanted to be taken apart by him again.
Ronan backed her toward the workbench, lifting her up effortlessly so she sat on the edge. He stepped between her legs, keeping his body close—his hands roaming under her shirt, over her skin, memorizing the curves that had been haunting his nights.
“You drive me crazy,” he whispered against her mouth. “You have no idea.”
She gasped when his hand slipped beneath her waistband again, fingers slow and confident—knowing exactly what she liked now, exactly how to undo her.
He kissed her jaw, her neck, the place just beneath her ear. “Let me take care of you.”
She barely managed a breathless nod.
And then she wasn’t thinking anymore.
She was gripping the edge of the bench, body shaking, his mouth at her throat again, her hips rolling toward his hand as the o****m took her fast and hard—toe-curling, overwhelming, everything he wanted her to feel.
He didn’t stop until she melted in his hands, gasping his name like it was sacred.
When it passed, he leaned his forehead to hers, breathing her in.
“You hold me,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “And you ruin me.”
Evelyn smiled, still breathless. “Then let me keep doing it.”
And for the first time that day—
Ronan truly let go.
The moon was high by the time Ronan stepped back into the war room.
The door shut with a quiet finality, and Maddox looked up from the table, already knowing.
“She okay?” he asked, though the calm in Ronan’s expression already told him the answer.
“She is now,” Ronan said. His voice was steadier. His edges, sharper.
Maddox nodded once. “Good. Because it’s time.”
He gestured toward the map on the table—fresh markings laid out in red and black ink. Territory lines. Club strongholds. Activity from Reed’s side—erratic, unstable.
“They’re slipping,” Maddox said. “The cracks are turning into fractures. Men are talking. His second-in-command has gone quiet. The enforcers are watching their backs instead of the club’s. Reed’s house of cards is already falling—we just have to pick the moment to kick it down.”
Ronan studied the map, eyes narrowing. “No more waiting. We’ve already lost too much.”
Maddox met his gaze. “You thinking of Cody?”
Ronan nodded once. “Cody. And the other boys we buried too young. Kids who should’ve had a future. Reed took that. For pride. For ego. For a legacy soaked in fear.”
He clenched his jaw, knuckles pressing into the table. “He doesn’t get to keep breathing while those boys are gone.”
Maddox didn’t argue.
Because he agreed.
“He’ll feel what they felt,” Ronan said. “Confusion. Panic. The second before the pain. I want him to see it coming. I want him to know what it’s like to lose control.”
Maddox’s voice was low. “We’ll make it surgical. Not messy. Not emotional. We plan every step.”
Ronan nodded slowly. “We do it right. And when it’s done, there’s no war left to fight.”
They stood there for a moment in silence—brothers by blood spilled and battles fought.
And then Ronan spoke again, voice colder than steel.
“No more warnings. Next time they come near us…”
He looked Maddox dead in the eye.
“We finish it.”
- Writer
