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Novo hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something else, then simply nodded. "I'll be back soon, but I'll send Tik Tac with the other boxes. I'll lock the door when I go out. Don't open it for anyone but me or him."
After he left, I flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet of the cabin settled around me, broken only by the distant sounds of activity from the clubhouse. I hadn't expected Novo to have a place like this—so personal, so... homey. Had hebeen embarrassed by it? Or was it simply that he hadn't wanted me in his personal space?
I sat up and grabbed Patches, hugging him to my chest. "Just us again, buddy," I whispered.
The weight of everything that had happened in the past two days crashed over me like a wave. I was married to a stranger who was only with me for money. Someone—likely my own godfather—had tried to kill me. I'd lost my job. And now I was hiding out in a biker compound because my life was in danger.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. How had this become my reality?
I decided to unpack, needing something to do with my restless energy. My possessions looked pathetically sparse spread out on the bed—a handful of clothes, three pairs of designer shoes from my old life, some toiletries, a few books, and Patches. The prospects had grabbed my laptop and phone charger, at least.
As I arranged my meager belongings in the dresser drawers, I noticed how empty they remained. This room, beautiful as it was, highlighted just how little I actually owned. Three years ago, I'd had closets full of designer clothes, shelves of books, collections of things I'd acquired during my travels. All of which I'd sold. Now everything I owned fit in a few small boxes.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Ricky.
How are you holding up, sweetie? Any news?
I sat on the edge of the bed, considering how to respond.
I'm at Novo's place now. It's nice. Safe.
Good. Has he been taking care of you?
I thought about Novo helping me through my panic attack, carrying me when I was drunk, washing my hair this morning when I was too hungover to stand properly.
Yeah, he has.
Are you alone right now? Want me to come visit?
The thought of seeing a friendly face was tempting, but I remembered Novo's warning about not opening the door.
Maybe tomorrow? Things are still a bit chaotic.
Of course, honey. Just let me know when. Daddy Chris and I are worried about you.
I set the phone down, throat tight. Ricky had been nothing but kind to me since we'd met at The Escape Club a year ago. He'd taken me under his wing, introduced me to his friends, tried to help me find a compatible Daddy. I hadn't always been grateful for his help—had sometimes been downright rude, if I was honest with myself.
Yet he was still here, still caring. They'd even waived their fee until I got my inheritance, which clearly wasn't guaranteed.
With nothing else to do, I decided to explore the cabin a bit more. The bathroom was surprisingly luxurious—a large shower with multiple heads, a deep soaking tub, and high-end fixtures. Novo's toiletries were neatly arranged on a shelf—simple, masculine products without fancy packaging.
The living room revealed more about Novo than I'd expected. The bookshelves were filled with an eclectic mix—military history, classic literature, motorcycle repair manuals, and surprisingly, several books on psychology and caregiving. One shelf held framed photographs—Novo with other club members, an older couple who must be his parents, and one of a much younger Novo in military uniform.
I moved to the kitchen, admiring the professional setup. The refrigerator was indeed well-stocked—fresh vegetables, quality meats, dairy products. No processed junk food in sight. The pantry was equally impressive—organized by category, with everything in clear containers, neatly labeled.
This wasn't the home of the careless biker I'd imagined. This was the home of someone meticulous, thoughtful, someone who valued quality and took pride in his surroundings.
I caught my reflection in the kitchen window and hardly recognized myself. Pale, with dark circles under my eyes, wearing borrowed clothes that hung on my frame. I looked as lost as I felt.
A knock at the door startled me. I froze, remembering Novo's warning not to open it for anyone but him.
"Matty?" Tik Tac's voice called through the door. "It's me. I've got the rest of your stuff."
Still hesitant, I peered through the peephole. Tik Tac stood there alone, arms laden with boxes. He looked harmless enough. I unlatched the door and opened it just enough to see him properly.
"Thanks," I said, reaching for the top box.
As I did, the door was suddenly shoved open with enough force to send me stumbling backward. Tik Tac was pushed aside, and a man I'd never seen before stood in the doorway, his eyes cold and calculating.