Page 61 of Monstrosity

We ride without a destination at first, leaving the city behind for the open highway.

The wind whips past us, carrying away some of the morning's terror.

Rio drives like he fights—controlled but intense, every movement precise.

I lose myself in the rhythm of it, in the trust of letting him carry us both away from danger.

After about forty minutes, he exits onto a smaller road I recognize.

We've been here before, months ago when we were on a day out with the kids.

There's a trail system that leads to a secluded spot by a creek, beautiful and private.

He parks the bike in the small lot—empty on a weekday morning—and helps me off.

My legs are steadier now, the ride having worked its magic.

"Better?" he asks, removing his helmet.

"Getting there." My voice is still rough, and I see him flinch at the sound.

"Come on." He takes my hand, leading me toward the trail. "Let's walk."

The forest is quiet except for birds and the distant sound of water.

We walk in silence for a while, hands linked, both processing the morning's events.

The trail is well-maintained but deserted, winding through old trees that filter the sunlight into green-gold patterns.

"I'm sorry," Rio says suddenly.

"For what?"

"For putting you in danger. For bringing this chaos into your life. For?—"

"Stop." I tug his hand, making him face me. "None of this is your fault."

"Isn't it?" His eyes are tortured. "If you weren't with me?—"

"If I wasn't with you, I'd be half-alive," I interrupt. "Going through the motions, serving coffee, existing but not really alive. You didn't bring chaos into my life, Rio. You brought purpose. You gave me love, family."

"Dasha—"

"I'm not done." I reach up to cup his face. "Yes, this morning was terrifying. Yes, I'm scared. But I'm not scared enough to run. I'm not scared enough to give up what we have."

"Even if what we have gets you killed?"

"It won't." I say it with more confidence than I feel. "Because you won't let it. Because the club won't let it. Because tomorrow, this threat finally ends."

He studies my face for a long moment, then crushes me against him.

The kiss is desperate, all teeth and need, like he's trying to prove I'm really here and alive.

I give as good as I get, pouring all my own fear and relief into the connection.

When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.

"I need you," he says roughly. "Right now. Need to feel you, taste you, know you're okay."