Page 7 of The Biker’s Single Mom (Fox Ridge MC #5)

I've fought enough battles to know the quiet before. The Riders move with practiced efficiency, checking weapons, securing doors, speaking in low voices that don't carry beyond our circle.

Daisy stands near the window, watching. She's changed into jeans and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back, face set with determination that can't quite mask her fear.

Violet is with Florence in the safe room beneath the clubhouse, a reinforced concrete space with supplies, a bathroom, and enough distractions to keep a child occupied while hell breaks loose above.

"Three vehicles approaching the main gate," Hawk calls from his lookout position. "Black SUVs. Same as before."

Blade nods, adjusting his cut. "Positions."

I cross to Daisy, taking her arm. "Time to go downstairs."

She looks up at me, chin lifting in that way that's already become familiar. "I'm staying."

"The hell you are," I growl, lowering my voice so the others can't hear. "This isn't a negotiation, Daisy. These men will kill you."

"And I won't hide while you risk your life for us." Her hand catches mine, squeezing hard. "I'm done running, Daniel."

"This isn't about running," I say, frustration building. "It's about living."

Her eyes hold mine, steady and clear. "I know. That's why I'm staying." She pauses, then adds softly, "Violet's safe. She has Florence. But I need to see this end."

Something in her expression stops my argument cold.

This isn't stubbornness or bravado. This is a woman who's spent years looking over her shoulder, years fearing the shadow at her back.

She needs to witness the threat being neutralized, needs to know, beyond doubt, that her nightmare is truly over.

"You stay behind me," I tell her, the words clipped. "If I say drop, you drop. If I say run, you run. No questions."

She nods once, relief flashing across her face. "I can do that."

I don't like it. Every instinct screams to lock her safely away, to handle this threat without her anywhere near the danger. But I understand need. Understand closure.

"They're stopping at the gate," Devil announces, rifle balanced against his shoulder as he peers through the blinds.

I join him at the window. Three black SUVs idle at our security gate, still closed across the driveway. Men in suits step out, eight of them. And then another figure emerges from the middle vehicle.

Even from this distance, I know this is Carlo Ricci.

He moves with the confidence of a man accustomed to fear and deference, straightening his expensive suit as he surveys our compound.

His face is handsome in a cold, calculated way, the kind of looks that photograph well for political fundraisers and society pages, masking the rot beneath.

I hear Daisy's sharp intake of breath behind me. "That's him."

The hatred that surges through me is primitive and absolute. This is the man who hurt her. Who made Violet afraid. Who still haunts their nightmares.

"Stay here," I tell her, stepping away from the window. "When they breach the gate, we meet them outside. No reason to give them cover or vantage points."

The Riders move to their positions, Hawk and Victor flanking the main entrance, Devil and Blade taking the sides, me at the center. We've defended this ground before. We know its strengths, its vulnerabilities.

The sound of the gate being rammed open sends a surge of adrenaline through my system. Engines roar as the SUVs power up the driveway.

"Now," Blade commands.

We move as one unit through the door, spreading across the gravel yard in a practiced formation. The SUVs screech to a halt twenty yards away, and men pour out, weapons already drawn.

"Carlo Ricci," I call, stepping forward. "You're trespassing on Riders territory."

Ricci moves to the front of his men, hands casually in his pockets like this is a business meeting. "I've come for my wife and daughter," he says, voice smooth and cultured. "Give them to me, and we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed."

"Ex-wife," I correct. "And they're not yours anymore."

His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Everything I claim is mine, biker. Always."

"Not this time." I step further forward, creating distance between myself and the other Riders. Making myself the primary target. "Daisy and Violet are under Riders protection now."

"Protection?" Ricci laughs, the sound cold and calculated. "Is that what you call it? Stealing another man's family?"

"You can't steal what was never yours," Daisy's voice rings out from behind me.

My heart stops as she steps up beside me, her slight frame straight and tense. Goddamn stubborn woman. But the look on Ricci's face at the sight of her, shock giving way to fury, is almost worth the risk.

"Daisy," he says, his voice shifting to something silky and dangerous. "You've led me on quite a chase, darling."

"It's over, Carlo," she says, and I hear the tremor she's fighting to control. "You don't own me. You don't own Violet. You never did."

"Is that what you think?" Ricci's eyes harden. "You think you can just walk away? Take my blood, my legacy?"

His hand moves, and everything happens at once. The flash of a gun being drawn. My body moving instinctively to shield Daisy. The first crack of gunfire, not from Ricci, but from one of his men.

Then chaos erupts.

I tackle Daisy to the ground as bullets spray the air above us. The Riders return fire from strategic positions, the sharp reports of guns punctuated by shouts and the crunch of gravel under boots.

"Stay down," I growl at Daisy, pulling my own weapon. I fire twice, taking out the gunman closest to us, then drag her behind the cover of a concrete planter.

The air fills with gunsmoke and dust. Through the haze, I see Hawk engaged in hand-to-hand with one of Ricci's men, while Victor provides covering fire. Devil has another pinned against an SUV, fist connecting with brutal efficiency.

And Ricci—Ricci is moving toward the clubhouse, toward where Violet is hidden below.

"He's going for the club," I shout to Blade, who nods grimly, understanding instantly.

"Cover me," he calls back, laying down suppressive fire as I sprint toward the entrance, cutting off Ricci's path.

I catch him at the steps, tackling him hard to the ground. His gun skitters away across the gravel. He's stronger than he looks, landing a solid blow to my ribs that makes me grunt with pain. But I've been in too many fights to be slowed by a single hit.

I drive my fist into his face, feeling the satisfying crunch of cartilage beneath my knuckles. Blood sprays from his broken nose, speckling his pristine white shirt.

"She's mine," he snarls, slashing at me with a hidden blade that opens a stinging line across my forearm.

The pain only feeds the rage building inside me. I knock the knife away and slam him back against the steps, my hand closing around his throat.

"No," I say, squeezing just enough to make his eyes widen with fear. "She was never yours. And now she's under my protection."

His face contorts with hatred. "You think you can protect them? A filthy biker with blood on his hands? You're nothing but trash."

I squeeze harder, watching his face purple, feeling the darkness rise in me, the part that enjoys this, that wants to watch the life drain from his eyes. It would be so easy. One more moment of pressure, and Daisy would be free of him forever.

"Daniel."

Her voice cuts through the red haze of my rage. I feel her hand on my shoulder, gentle but firm.

"Daniel, stop. Not like this."

I loosen my grip slightly, enough for Ricci to drag in a rasping breath. "He deserves it," I say, not looking at her. "For what he did to you. To Violet."

"I know," she says quietly. "But I don't want his blood on your hands. Or on mine."

She's right. Killing Ricci would end one threat but create others, legal complications, potential revenge from his organization, shadows that would follow us.

I release his throat but keep him pinned, pulling zip ties from my pocket to secure his hands. Around us, the gunfire has stopped. The Riders have Ricci's men subdued, some unconscious, others bound and kneeling.

"It's over, Carlo," Daisy says, her voice steadier now. "You lost. I'm filing for a restraining order. The police will have evidence of your men attacking the Riders on their own property. And I'm sure the Feds would be very interested in some of the things I witnessed during our marriage."

Fear flashes in Ricci's eyes. He knows she has leverage, knows what she could reveal.

"You wouldn't," he hisses. "You wouldn't put yourself at risk like that."

"Try me," she says, and in that moment, I see the steel in her that's always been there, beneath the sunshine. "Stay away from me. Stay away from Violet. Or I'll burn your whole empire to the ground."

I haul Ricci to his feet, shoving him toward Blade and Victor, who take over, securing him with the rest of his men.

The fight is finished. The Riders have won, bloody but standing. And Daisy...

Daisy stands in the aftermath, blood smeared on her cheek, dust in her hair, shaking with adrenaline but unbroken. When she turns to me, her eyes are clear and certain.

"It's done," she says, and steps into my arms.

I hold her against me, feeling her heart racing, her body trembling with delayed shock and relief. My own pulse hammers with fading adrenaline and something else—something that feels dangerously like hope.

"You're safe now," I tell her, pressing my lips to her hair. "Both of you."

She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. "I meant what I said, Daniel. I'm done running."

I cup her face in my hands, heedless of the blood and dirt. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."