Page 55 of Claimed By the Bikers

“Or gotten all of you killed instead of just two.”

I turn to face her, noting how she’s cataloging every mark on my torso—the bullet scar on my shoulder, the knife wound across my ribs, the evidence of a life lived in dangerous places.

“After the attack, the command wanted to evacuate the wounded and replace them with fresh personnel. Standard protocol for maintaining unit strength.” I sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted. “But these weren’t just soldiers to me. They were family. Brothers I’d trained with, fought with, bled with.”

“So you fought to keep them.”

“I fought the bureaucrats who saw them as numbers on a casualty report instead of human beings who’d sacrificed fortheir country. Spent weeks arguing with desk jockeys who’d never heard a shot fired in anger about why my wounded men deserved proper medical care instead of being shipped home and forgotten.”

“Did you win?”

“Some battles. Lost others. Martinez got the treatment he needed, kept his leg, and eventually made it home to his family. But the fight used up all my political capital, made me enemies in places I couldn’t afford them.”

“Is that why they abandoned you during the evacuation?”

“Partly. I’d become a problem officer, someone who put his men’s welfare ahead of convenient politics. When the time came to choose between supporting my decision and protecting their own careers, most of them chose self-preservation.”

Ember settles beside me on the bed, close enough that our thighs touch. “But you saved those people. The families you evacuated.”

“Sixty-three lives. But it cost me everything else—my career, my reputation, my faith in the system I’d served for fifteen years.” I meet her eyes in the dim light. “That’s when I learned that sometimes doing the right thing means accepting that you’ll face the consequences alone.”

“You’re not alone now.”

“No. But I can’t shake the feeling that caring about you, about Garrett and Silas, makes me vulnerable in ways I can’t control. That loving people gives life more ways to destroy you.”

“It also gives you more reasons to fight.”

“Does it? Or does it make you weak? Hesitant when you should act decisively, emotional when you should stay cold?”

She considers this, fingers tracing idle patterns on my forearm. “In Seattle, before the trafficking ring, I thought emotional distance was strength. Thought not caring about anyone made me a better agent, more effective at my job.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You. All of you. Discovering that the people I care about make me fiercer, not weaker. More willing to take risks, not less.” She looks up at me. “Love doesn’t make you vulnerable, Atlas. It makes you dangerous. Because there’s nothing more terrifying than someone who has something worth protecting.”

I study her face, looking for any sign that she doesn’t understand what she’s saying. That she doesn’t grasp the full implications of choosing to stand with us against whatever’s coming. But all I see is determination.

“The cartel situation is going to get worse before it gets better,” I tell her honestly. “There may come a time when I have to choose between protecting our operation and protecting you.”

“Then you choose both. Because I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting anyone destroy what we’ve built.”

She kisses me, fierce and claiming, and I taste determination on her lips. When we break apart, she’s looking at me like I’m something worth fighting for, worth dying for if necessary.

“The scars don’t bother you?” I ask, suddenly needing to know.

“They’re proof you survived. Proof you fought for people who mattered to you, even when it cost you everything.” Her fingerstrace the longest scar, the one that nearly took my life. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But I’m your kind of insane.”

I flip us over, pinning her beneath me on the mattress, and she laughs at the sudden movement. “Are you sure about this?” I ask her. “About us? Because once this conflict starts, there won’t be any neutral ground. No safe spaces or easy exits.”

“I stopped wanting easy exits the day I realized I was home.”

“Home?”

“Here. With you, with Garrett and Silas, in this strange life we’ve built together.” She pulls me down for another kiss. “This is my family, Atlas. My real family. And I’ll burn down anyone who tries to take it from me.”