Page 7 of Raze (Wolf Rider MC Daddies #4)

Nico

This isn’t good.

I know I’m not right.

I can barely…

The world is a blurry haze, my head heavy, my arm throbbing where the blade sliced me. I’m barely conscious, but Raze’s arms are around me, strong and steady, carrying me like I weigh nothing.

My Wolf Rider Daddy’s leather jacket smells of smoke and sweat, and his heartbeat thuds against my cheek, grounding me as I drift in and out. I’m safe here, in his grip, despite everything—the bar fight, the blood, the Broker slipping away.

Raze’s voice rumbles low, words I can’t quite catch, but the tone is urgent, commanding.

The clubhouse door creaks open, and the noise hits me like a wave—heavy metal from the jukebox, bikers shouting, glasses clinking.

The neon wolf’s head pulses above the bar, its glow seeping through my half-closed eyes.

I’m fading, but I hear Clay’s voice, gravelly and sharp, cutting through the fog.

“He’s not one of us, Raze,” Clay says.

Raze’s reply is a growl, fierce and unyielding.

“He’s hurt, Clay,” Raze growls. “Doc’s fixing the boy, or I’m raising hell.”

There’s a pause, heavy with tension, then Clay grunts, “Fine. Get it done. But know that this is a favor. One that I’ll expect repaying.”

Relief washes over me, but it’s fleeting.

My arm burns, and my mind’s stuck on Raze—how he chose me over chasing the Broker, how that choice might cost him everything. I’ve fucked up his world, and the guilt sits like a stone in my chest.

I finally thought I’d maybe found someone who wouldn’t let me down. And what do I do? I let him down instead. Urgh . Maybe I don’t deserve happiness. Maybe that’s what all my years in foster care should have taught me.

Raze sets me down on a cot in a backroom, the air cooler here, smelling of antiseptic and old leather.

Doc, a wiry guy with gray hair and a no-nonsense scowl, is already there, his medical bag open.

“Stay still, kid,” Doc barks, his voice clipped as he cuts away my jacket sleeve.

I wince as he cleans the wound, the sting sharp enough to pull me back to the present.

Raze stands nearby, arms crossed, his storm-dark eyes never leaving me. His presence is a weight, both comforting and terrifying, like he’s holding me together and tearing me apart all at once.

The needle tugs as Doc stitches me up, quick and precise, and I bite my lip to keep from cursing. But I can’t help letting out a howl of Daddy! as Doc’s needle dives back in and around to make sure that I’m fully sealed up.

“Superficial mostly, but here… this part… deep ,” Doc mutters. “You’re lucky. Few more minutes, you’d be in trouble.”

When he’s done, Doc hands me a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the dim light.

“Drink,” Doc says. “It’ll take the edge off.”

I take a sip, grimacing at the burn, like swallowing fire. I hate the taste, always have, but it dulls the pain in my arm, so I force another gulp.

Raze is still watching, his jaw tight, and I wonder what he’s thinking—whether he’s pissed at me for getting hurt, for letting the Broker slip, or for something else entirely.

The Daddy vibe he’s got going, the way he calls me boy , is messing with my head, and I’m not sure if I want to run from it or lean into it. Al I know is that right now I just want to be in his arms, protected from the world.

The door swings open, and Dylan, Keegan, and Caleb file in, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity.

Dylan’s got that mischievous grin, Keegan’s smile flashes as he he leans against the wall, and Caleb jokes to soften the harsh vibe.

They’re the Wolf Rider boys from earlier, the ones who welcomed me like I wasn’t a total outsider.

“You look like shit, Nico,” Dylan says, plopping onto a chair beside the cot. “But you’re alive, so that’s something.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, managing a weak grin.

My arm’s bandaged now, the whiskey loosening the tension in my shoulders. I glance at the bar through the open door, where Raze has joined Clay and Jase.

They’re talking low, heads close, and I can feel the weight of their words from here. Raze’s broad shoulders are hunched, his hands gesturing sharply, and I know it’s about me—about the Broker, the fight, the mess I’ve dragged him into.

My stomach twists.

What if this costs him his place as enforcer? The Wolf Riders are his family, his life, and I’ve put that at risk. The thought makes the whiskey taste even worse.

“You okay?” Caleb asks, his voice gentle, pulling me back. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, his curls falling into his eyes. “Jase says Raze is in deep shit for letting the Broker get away.”

My heart sinks.

“Yeah, I figured,” I say, my voice low. “I fucked up. He should’ve gone after the Broker, not…”

I trail off, gesturing at my bandaged arm. Not saved me. Not chosen me. The words stick in my throat, heavy with guilt.

Keegan shakes his head.

“Don’t beat yourself up, man,” Keegan says. “Raze made his call. He’s tough, but he’s got a soft spot for boys. You’re not the first to shake him up.”

“His boys ?” I scoff, but it comes out weak. “Who does he think he is? I’m not his anything. I’m just the idiot who got caught with your shit.”

But even as I say it, I’m thinking of the kiss outside the bar, the way his lips crashed into mine, raw and electric. It was real, and it’s got me all kinds of fucked up.

I’ve spent my life running—from foster homes, from cops, from anyone who got too close—but Raze is different. I can’t outrun Raze, and I don’t want to either.

Dylan leans forward, his grin softening.

“Look, Nico, the club’s tight,” Dylan says. “Clay and Jase will give Raze hell, but they won’t cut him loose. He’s their best enforcer. And you? You’re not just some punk to him. We see it. The way he looks at you? That’s not just business.”

I want to believe them, but doubt gnaws at me.

I’ve never been anyone’s priority, not in foster care, not on the streets. Why would Raze risk his reputation for me?

I glance at the bar again, where Raze’s still deep in conversation, his face hard, his eyes flicking toward me for a split second.

My chest tightens. I’ve cost him too much already.

The Broker’s still out there, probably laughing at how he slipped past the Wolf Riders. If I don’t fix this, Raze’s name is mud, and I’ll be the one who dragged him down.

“I need to hit the bathroom,” I say, standing slowly, testing my balance.

The whiskey’s made me a little lightheaded, but my arm’s steady enough. Dylan raises an eyebrow, but Keegan just nods, pointing down the hall.

“Second door on the left,” Dylan says.

I give them a tight smile and head out, my sneakers quiet on the concrete floor. The hallway’s dim, the noise from the bar fading as I pass the bathroom door and keep going, my heart pounding…

I’m not here to piss. I’m here to slip out.

There’s a window at the end of the hall, just around the corner, cracked open, just wide enough for me to squeeze through. I glance back, making sure no one’s following, then push it open further, wincing as it creaks.

The night air hits me, cool and sharp, and I climb through, landing softly in the gravel lot outside. I’ve still got my gun. And I might be using it too.

I’ve got a plan, reckless and stupid, but it’s all I’ve got.

I’m going to find the Broker, take him down, and prove to Raze I’m worth the trouble. If I can do this, maybe I can fix what I broke—maybe I can keep Raze from losing everything…

The lot is quiet, bikes lined up under floodlights, the neon wolf sign glaring down like it’s judging me. I stick to the shadows, moving fast, my arm throbbing but not slowing me down.

I know where the Broker might be—another dive bar, a stash house, maybe even Snake’s place. The Broker is arrogant, thinks he’s untouchable after slipping Raze. I’ve been in this game long enough to know how guys like him operate. They don’t run far, not when they think they’ve won.

My mind races, piecing together the scraps I gave Raze in the interrogation room—addresses, habits, the Broker’s love for flashy suits and cheap gin.

I can find him.

I have to.

And when I do, I’ll kill him.

My boots crunch gravel as I slip past the clubhouse, heading for the highway. I’ve got no bike, no plan beyond tracking the Broker down and putting a bullet in him.

It’s a suicide mission, probably, but I’ve survived worse odds.

The memory of Raze’s arms around me, the way he carried me like I mattered, fuels me.

I can’t let Raze take the fall for me.

Not after that kiss, not after the way he looked at me when I was bleeding out.

I’ve never had anyone fight for me before, and I’m not about to let that go to waste.

I scan around and notice a motorcycle, its keys glistening, still in the ignition. Fuck, this is a risk. I’m stealing a Wolf Rider motorcycle… there might be no coming back from this.

“Here goes,” I say, turning the key and feeling the immense power of the hog’s engine roar.

I’ve got no time to waste. Not a single second, in fact.

The highway stretches out, dark and endless, the storm clouds finally breaking, a light rain starting to fall.

My .38 feels heavy against my hip, a reminder of what I’m about to do.

I’m Nico, the kid who’s always run, always survived.

But this time, I’m not running away. I’m running toward something—toward the Broker, toward redemption, toward proving to Raze that I’m more than just a hustler who got caught.

And if I do go down, I’m taking that bastard with me…