Page 20

Emmy

The roar of the private jet’s engines dulled to a whine as we touched down on home soil, but I was too numb to care. Floating. Existing. Everything felt removed, like I was watching my life happen from the outside.

Austin’s hand rested on my thigh, his touch grounding but not enough to pull me from the fog. I stared out the window, watching as the compound came into view. It should’ve felt like a relief. It didn’t.

I should’ve stayed with Luke. The guilt twisted inside me like a dull knife. But I knew—we knew—why I hadn’t.

Luke was safe. Surrounded by security and police protection, with Tank at his side. Staying with him would’ve been a mistake. The Ghost’s reach was long, and the last thing Luke needed was to be used as bait to lure me back into hell. And if I was being honest with myself, sitting by his bedside, trapped in the sterile quiet of a hospital room, would’ve shattered what little control I had left. I had barely held it together when I spoke with him before leaving.

His eyes were swollen, unable to fully open, but he had forced them to meet mine. His voice, hoarse and weak, had still carried strength when he told me to go home. To get better.

“You’re no good to me like this, Em.”

I had nodded, blinking back tears, knowing he was right.

And now I was here. The SUV pulled to a stop in front of the clubhouse, and the reality of being back pressed down on me with crushing force.

Austin turned toward me, watching, waiting. I felt his concern like heat against my skin, but I didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, I reached for the door handle and stepped out before he could say anything. If I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure what would come out.

The moment my feet hit the gravel, the familiar scents of oil, leather, and whiskey filled my lungs. The sounds of the compound—distant laughter, the rumble of engines from the garage next door, the steady hum of life—felt like an intrusion.

I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

Austin was at my side in an instant, but I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. I squared my shoulders and walked inside because the only way to keep from breaking was to keep moving.

As I crossed the threshold, a sense of suffocation enveloped me. The walls were too close. My stomach twisted.

I didn’t belong here.

I turned abruptly, my shoes scuffing against the floor as I faced Austin. He was already watching me, arms crossed over his chest, that unreadable expression fixed in place. The one that told me he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“I’m not staying here,” I announced.

Austin’s jaw ticked. “Yeah, you are.”

I shook my head, pushing down the frustration boiling inside me. “I have an apartment, Austin. My own space. I want to go home.”

“You’re not safe there.” His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the finality in his tone.

I huffed out a bitter laugh. “And I’m safe here?” I gestured around the room, to the clubhouse filled with bikers, the place that was just as much a target as anywhere else.

“You’re safer than you would be alone.”

Out of habit I replied, “I can take care of myself.” But I wasn’t sure I believed that anymore. I didn’t know if there was anywhere on the planet I would ever feel safe again.

Austin’s eyes darkened. “No.”

I sucked in a breath, my nails digging into my palms. “That’s not fair.”

His expression didn’t change. “No, what’s not fair is you acting like everything is fine when it’s not.”

“I never said I was fine.” I blew out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I just don’t want to be here, Austin. I don’t want this life.”

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. A crack in that solid exterior. “This isn’t about the club.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t because he was right.

This wasn’t about the club. It was about him. About the way I felt when I was near him. About how I wanted him, but at the same time, I couldn’t let myself have him.

Not after everything. Not after what I did. Not when I still felt like a broken version of myself.

Austin stepped closer, crowding my space. “You don’t have to stay forever, but you’re not walking out of here tonight.” His voice lowered. “You’re not ready.”

My chest ached with the weight of it. The truth I didn’t want to admit. But I still shook my head, unwilling to let him be right. “I just need?—”

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “What do you need, Emmy?”

I could feel the warmth of his body, the steady control in the way he held himself back.

My throat tightened. I wanted to tell him I needed space. That I needed time. But if I were honest… I didn’t want either of those things.

I wanted him. I just didn’t know how to take that step forward when the past few days clung to me like a second skin.

His thumb brushed lightly over my chin before he pulled back. “You’re exhausted. Get some rest.”

The sudden loss of his touch left me unsteady. Unmoored.

“Austin—”

“We’ll talk in the morning.” His voice was softer now but still held that unquestionable authority. “Go.”

I didn’t argue. Deep down, I knew he was right. I wasn’t ready.

I hesitated, then nodded, turning on my heel and heading down the hallway toward one of the club’s rooms. Not his bedroom. Not where we’d been together. Lying in his bed now after… would feel wrong. Like I would be violating what we once had by sleeping there now. I didn’t deserve to sleep there.

I picked one of the vacant rooms and kicked my shoes off but left my borrowed clothes on and climbed between the clean sheets. They smelled like fresh linen. For a moment, I regretted getting them dirty.

I smelled and not in a nice way. I stank of bad decisions, the jungle, and sweat. Even if I had the energy to shower, would I ever feel clean again?

I’d been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours, when the door opened. I knew it was Austin. Without a word, he picked me up and carried me to his room and gently placed me in his bed.

“That shit stops now. This is where you belong. I won’t touch you until you want me but just know that I always want you.”

Staring up into his eyes, I saw the pain in their depths. I wanted to ease his worry. I wanted to be what he needed, but I couldn’t get the words out that he wanted to hear. They were frozen in my throat. Would I ever again be what he wanted?

Austin took his clothes off, leaving his black boxers on—something he never did—and crawled into bed beside me, but keeping space between us. I lay back and listened to him breathe, the sound lulling me into calmness. Without thinking about it, I rolled over, and his arm wrapped around me, pulling me into his side. It wasn’t much, but it was the only comfort I could give him.

Eventually, I fell into an exhausted sleep.

The compound was suffocating.

I’d been back for a week, and everyone treated me like fragile glass, like I was about to break at any second. Maybe they were right.

I’d called Maya and my boss and made up an excuse of being sick and needing extended leave. Lying wasn’t in my wheelhouse, but it was better than telling them I’d been kidnapped.

Being at the clubhouse was hard, yet so very easy. Dangerously easy. I needed to leave, but Austin refused. And the worst part was that a part of me was relieved.

As brave as I’d sounded assuring Austin I could take care of myself, I didn’t trust myself alone. Not yet.

I sat curled up in the corner of his bed, knees hugged to my chest, staring at the wall like it might hold the answers I couldn’t find within myself. The guilt was swallowing me whole, digging its talons in deeper every time I replayed the moments in that room. Javier’s voice slithered through my head, the things I did, the way my body betrayed me. And then the moment I fired the gun and ended his torment.

God, I was disgusting.

I helped people. I was a licensed therapist who counseled victims, guided them toward healing. But I couldn’t help myself. I was drowning in shame, unable to even look Austin in the eyes without remembering what I’d done.

What kind of woman got off with a man like Javier? A man that wasn’t my lover? Wasn’t Austin. The man I loved.

What kind of woman let herself feel pleasure under a monster’s command?

A broken one.

A ruined one.

My fingers dug into my arms as I squeezed tighter, trying to hold myself together.

“Emmy.”

Austin’s voice was gentle, but I didn’t look up.

The bed dipped as he sat beside me. His warmth bled into me, but I recoiled, drawing my knees tighter to my body.

“Talk to me,” he said.

I shook my head. I couldn’t.

He let out a slow exhale, and for a moment, I thought he might let it go. But then his fingers curled under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

His eyes weren’t filled with disgust like I expected. They weren’t filled with pity either. Just pure, unwavering love. Love I didn’t deserve.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured. “And you’re wrong.”

I swallowed painfully, my throat burning. “You don’t know.”

“I do,” he countered. “You think what happened in that room changes who you are. That it makes you dirty, weak, broken.” He shook his head. “But you’re none of those things, Emmy. You survived.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, a tear slipping free. “I?—”

“Look at me.”

It wasn’t a request, and I did as he said.

“I love you.” The words were steel, unbreakable. “I don’t give a damn what happened in that room. You are mine. And nothing will change that.”

My lip trembled. “I killed him.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“He—I…”

He cut me off, his fingers tightening against my jaw. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

I broke. A sob ripped from my throat, and Austin caught me, pulling me into his arms. I clung to him, burying my face in his chest, inhaling the scent of leather, smoke, and home. Finally home.

His arms locked around me, strong and steady, holding me together when I couldn’t do it myself.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered into my hair. “You never will be.”

I wasn’t sure how long we sat like that. Minutes. Hours. Time didn’t matter.

But eventually, the tears slowed. The shaking stopped. And when I pulled back, Austin wiped the dampness from my cheeks, his touch infinitely tender.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It wasn’t about claiming or taking. It was soft, reverent—an unspoken promise.

I melted into him, letting him chase away the ghosts, the shame, the doubt.

For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than fear. I felt Austin.

“Talk to me, baby; tell me everything. These shoulders are strong, and I can help you carry the pain.”

And I did. I started talking.

Austin listened without a word, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. I kept my eyes down, staring at the space between us, afraid to see his expression change—to see the disgust I felt for myself reflected in his eyes.

My voice wavered, but I didn’t stop. I told him everything. The Ghost’s voice in my ear, instructing me, breaking me down. The shameful pleasure I felt despite my hatred. How sometimes, when I closed my eyes, I imagined it was Austin touching me, guiding me.

And worst of all, how I had gotten off on it. How my body had betrayed me in the most sickening way.

“I wasn’t strong enough,” I choked out. “I thought I was, but I wasn’t. I let them get inside my head. And Javier—” I swallowed back bile. “I took him in my mouth?—”

Austin held me tighter. “He made you, Emmy. He fucking took from you. Don’t twist this shit around like you had a choice.”

I shook my head violently. “But I felt it, Austin. I—I got off. And I don’t know how to live with that.”

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. Then he was cupping my face with strong, calloused hands, forcing me to look at him.

“That wasn’t you,” he growled. “That was them. That was him taking power where he had no fucking right.” His thumbs brushed away the tears that had started to fall again. “You survived, Emmy. You survived to come back to me, to us. And now you’re punishing yourself for it.”

I wanted to shove him away, wanted to scream that he didn’t understand, that he should hate me. But he didn’t let me.

“You’re mine,” he said fiercely, his forehead pressing against mine. “Nothing that happened in that fucking nightmare changes that. Nothing. I keep saying that, but you don’t listen. You think I see you any differently? That I don’t still love you?”

My breath caught. “You should hate me.”

He kissed me then. A sweet, deep kiss, as if he were trying to pull all my pain into himself, trying to make me feel what he felt. That I was his. That I was whole. That no matter what had happened, I was still the woman he loved.

I fell apart in his arms, sobbing into his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me from drowning.

Because he was.

But maybe I could start to believe that I wasn’t broken beyond repair.