Page 34

Amelia

I paced from window to window, checking locks I’d already verified three times in the last hour.

The compound had transformed since we’d returned home, brothers appearing from all corners with weapons visible at their hips, stern-faced men posting up at entrances and patrolling the perimeter.

Our small house that had begun to feel like home now felt like the center of a storm, everything outside our walls a potential threat.

My fingers trembled slightly as I tugged on another window latch, needing the physical reassurance that it was secured, that nothing could slip through to harm my boys.

“Mom, you checked that one already,” Chase said from across the room, his voice tense as he continued his own patrol, moving between the front door and the hallway leading to Levi’s room. His shoulders were bunched tight beneath his T-shirt, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I know,” I admitted, not stopping as I moved to the next window. “Just being thorough.”

What I didn’t say was that the image of Piston’s bloodied face was seared into my mind, along with his promise that this wasn’t over. I’d seen that look in his eyes too many times -- the cold calculation beneath the rage that meant he was already planning his revenge.

Levi sat in the corner of the living room, as far from the windows as possible while still maintaining sight lines to both exterior doors.

His laptop was open, but his fingers weren’t flying across the keyboard like usual.

Instead, they tapped a nervous rhythm against the edge, his eyes darting between the screen and his brother’s pacing figure.

“Can you see anything on the cameras?” Chase asked him, pausing mid-stride.

Levi adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down his nose. “Four Reapers at the main gate. Two walking the east fence line. Another three by the clubhouse.” His voice was quiet but steady as he reported what he saw on the security feed Atlas had helped him access. “No unusual activity.”

I moved to peek around the edge of the curtain, careful not to disturb the fabric enough that someone watching could spot my movement. The compound looked like it was preparing for war. And maybe they were.

The sound of motorcycles approaching made my heart leap into my throat. I pressed my face closer to the glass, straining to see through the darkness until I recognized Hammer’s distinctive silhouette leading three other riders. Relief washed through me.

Chase had heard the engines too. He moved to the front window, positioning himself between the door and where Levi sat. “It’s them,” he confirmed, his body language betraying none of the relief I felt.

The front door opened, and Hammer entered, followed by Viking and two Prospects whose names I couldn’t remember.

The scent of gasoline and smoke clung to Hammer’s clothes, and there was a darkness in his eyes that hadn’t been there when he left.

Not rage, exactly, but something colder, more focused.

“Perimeter’s secure,” Viking reported, his massive frame filling the doorway as Hammer moved toward me.

Hammer nodded, his gaze sweeping over me and the boys, cataloging our positions, our tension, before turning back to his brother. “Double the patrols on the east fence. It’s the weakest point.”

“Already done,” Viking confirmed. “Savior and Tempest are coordinating with the Boneyard. They’re moving tonight as planned.”

Hammer dismissed the men with a nod, waiting until the door closed behind them before crossing to where I stood. His hand touched my lower back briefly, the gesture oddly intimate in its casualness, as if we’d been together for years.

“You’re back early,” I said, searching his face for clues about what had happened.

Before I could ask more, Chase approached, his stance still coiled tight as a spring. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Are we under attack?”

Hammer turned to face him, not offended by the tone that bordered on disrespect. “Precautions,” he explained. “Standard procedure when there’s a threat.”

“This doesn’t look standard,” Chase challenged, gesturing toward the window and the activity outside. “This looks like a fortress.”

Levi had abandoned his laptop, moving to stand closer but still half-hidden behind his brother. His thin shoulders were hunched inward, making him appear even smaller than his five-foot-eight frame.

Hammer’s expression softened slightly as he looked at them, these boys who’d been thrown into his life by circumstance and were now his to protect. “That’s exactly what it is,” he agreed. “And that’s why you’re safe here.”

He moved to the center of the room, commanding attention without raising his voice. “Silent alarms on every entrance. Brothers patrolling 24/7. Nobody gets in without us knowing. Three layers of security before anyone reaches this house. And they’d have to get through me to reach any of you.”

Chase’s jaw worked, his eyes hard and skeptical. “What happens if Piston shows up? What if he brings his whole club?”

I tensed at the question, at the name spoken aloud in our space. But Hammer didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. He looked my son directly in the eye.

“Then he deals with me and thirty other Reapers who won’t let him near you.” The certainty in his voice carried the weight of decades spent keeping his word, of promises made and kept in blood if necessary. “He comes here, he doesn’t leave again.”

Chase and Levi exchanged a look -- one I recognized immediately: cautious hope tempered by too much experience with broken promises, with protection that failed when they needed it most.

“We’ve heard that before,” Chase said, not accusingly, just stating a fact. “People say they’ll protect us, then they don’t. Or can’t.”

Honestly, that had only happened once. A neighbor had noticed the bruises and hadn’t bought my excuses. Piston had made sure the man would never stick his nose in anyone else’s business ever again.

Something shifted in Hammer’s expression -- not anger, but a deeper resolve. He stepped closer to Chase, not touching him, but eliminating the safe distance my son tried to maintain from all adults, especially men.

“I’m not people,” Hammer said, his voice dropping lower. “I’m a Dixie Reaper.” His eyes held Chase’s, forcing my son to either meet his gaze or back down. “More importantly, I’m your stepfather now. That means something to me, even if it doesn’t to you yet.”

The silence that followed felt charged, like the air before lightning strikes.

I held my breath, watching my eldest son -- so hurt, so wary -- measure this man who’d claimed us with nothing but a fake marriage certificate and his word.

Chase had seemed to like Hammer well enough, until I’d offered myself to the man.

I wondered if Chase blamed himself for my decision.

We hadn’t discussed it. I’d known it wouldn’t do me any good.

If he’d wanted to talk about it, he’d have let me know.

“What if he comes with more men than you have?” Levi asked suddenly, his voice small but clear in the tension-filled room. “What if he has a plan? He always has a plan.”

Hammer turned to my youngest, his expression gentling further. “Then we have a better one,” he assured him. “And more allies than he knows about. We’re reaching out to your grandfather.”

My heart stuttered. Sure, I’d mentioned my dad was part of a club. I didn’t remember ever saying his name. How had he known? Wait. Atlas and his family… had they figured it out?

“Wrath? You’re contacting Wrath?” I asked.

It was a name I’d heard several times as I’d grown up, wondering about my father. If my mother had been telling the truth, he was part of a motorcycle club in Nevada called the Savage Knights. I’d never tried to track him down. She’d said he hadn’t wanted a family, so I’d tried to respect that.

Hammer nodded once. “Saint’s making the call tonight. The Savage Knights will want to know their President has a daughter and grandsons being threatened.”

The implications of that stunned me into silence.

My father -- the man who’d never known I existed, who led another MC across the country -- was about to learn not only that he had a daughter, but that she was in danger.

The potential for that response felt both overwhelming and strangely comforting. Assuming he gave a shit.

Chase’s face had gone carefully blank, but I could see the calculations happening behind his eyes. Levi looked torn between hope and deeper fear, as if adding more players to this dangerous game might tip it in either direction.

“You should get some rest,” Hammer said, coming to stand beside me. “All of you. It’s been a long day and tomorrow won’t be easier.”

I knew he was right, but the thought of closing my eyes, of letting my guard down even for a moment, sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me. “I don’t think I can sleep,” I admitted quietly.

“You should try,” he insisted, his hand finding the small of my back again. “I’ll be right here. Nothing gets past me.”

Looking into his weathered face, at the silver beard that had tickled my skin during our brief, stolen kiss, I found myself believing him despite years of learned distrust. Hammer was nothing like Piston -- nothing like any man I’d known before.

When he made a promise, I was beginning to understand it wasn’t just words.

It was a vow written in iron and blood.

The sound of tires on gravel had Chase at the window before I could even move, his body tense as he peered through a narrow gap in the curtains.

I held my breath, hand already reaching for Levi who’d gone perfectly still in his corner.

The subtle shift in Chase’s shoulders -- a loosening, a recognition -- came before his words.

“It’s Aura,” he reported, voice carefully neutral though I caught the hint of relief. “She’s got bags. Looks like supplies.”