Page 26 of Unbound By You (The Viper’s MC #1)

HARLOW

H is body weight’s hauled off mine, and then that gravelly, honeyed voice is right in my ear. “Harlow, baby. Come on, open your eyes. Talk to me.” Silas’s voice is low and urgent.

It’s sweet he’s worried.

“Can’t. Too tired. Too sore,” I groan.

He huffs at my dramatics. “Too fucking sassy for your own goddamned good.”

I manage a weak chuckle, but pain lances through my ribs like a hot knife. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a couple of cracked ribs.”

“Amongst a bunch of other shit, it looks like.”

“Well, what took you so long?”

Despite how heavy it feels, I crack my functioning eye open to catch the expression I know is waiting for me. And there it is, that mix of exasperation and fierce relief that only Silas can wear so perfectly.

“Woman, if you weren’t on death’s door, I’d take you over my knee and whip your ass black and blue.”

“Mmh, maybe next week, big guy.” My voice is barely more than a rasp. I would kill for something cold to coat the inside of my throat. “Everything clear out there?”

He shifts, sliding an arm under me with surprising gentleness as he lifts me from the blood-slick marble floor.

“Yeah. The guys have it handled. But we need to get out of here. This place is about to go up.”

As he moves, his steady gait keeps me from jostling too much.

I suck in shallow, broken gasps, fighting against the searing pain I’m trying my damnedest to hide.

I’ve got a hell of a lot of healing and recovery ahead of me.

At least, with him gone, Macon won’t have a puppeteering keeper, and I won’t have a jailer. I’ll no longer be bound to these two.

Silas scans every inch of me cradled in his arms like he’s taking stock.

Then he stops beside a white van and calls over a mountain of a man.

His white-blond hair is shaved at the sides and braided thick down his back.

He reminds me of one of those hot Viking guys from that show Lexi and I binged a couple of weeks back.

They exchange keys in a quick, wordless pass, and then the Viking’s gone.

“Let’s get you home,” Silas says, his voice softer now but no less demanding.

“Hey, Si.”

“Yeah, wildcat?”

“How’d you find me? I moved the tracker.”

He gently sets me into the van's passenger seat and clicks the seatbelt into place. His fingers softly take my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. His eyes burn, not with anger or lust. It’s something rawer and more emotional.

“I’m so fucking pissed at you for that.”

I scoff and let out a dry, “Tough shit.”

He ignores it and keeps going. “I found Lexi. Left her with Pierce.”

“Oh Jesus,” I scoff. “That’ll go well.”

His brow quirks in confusion, but I wave it off.

“Figured if you weren’t with her, you’d go after Macon. Pierce, let me in on your little nanny cam obsession. Which, by the way, ended up telling me everything I needed to find you.”

“How?”

He exhales through his nose, jaw clenching. “That piece of shit I just pulled off you made this personal. It was always about more than just you and me, baby. Graham McMenamin’s been an enemy of the club for years. We were just the perfect excuse for him to make his move finally.”

“But—”

He cuts me off with a kiss. Gentle, but no less consuming. His lips press into mine like it’s the only way he knows how to stop the words, like if he hears one more protest, he might actually break.

I want more. God, I want more. But not like this. Not when I’m covered in blood and God knows what else. Not when I can’t lift my arm or breathe without flinching. Not when his eyes flutter shut, and he pulls back, haunted by whatever truth he’s still holding behind them.

“What?” I whisper, refusing to let whatever it is fester between us.

“I almost lost you, Harlow.”

“Ehh, I was fine. Had it covered.”

“Jesus, woman,” he growls. “You’re not indestructible, you know?”

“Maybe not quite.” My voice snags on a wave of unexpected emotion clogging my throat. “But damn near close enough if the breath in my lungs is anything to account for.”

“We definitely need to get that head of yours checked,” he says before closing the van door and running around to the other side.

I watch the abandoned mansion begin to glow as we back out of the gravel driveway. The crunch of the tires over loose rock swallows the rising roar of the building flames ahead of us. They explode through the grime-covered windows, desperate for more oxygen to devour and grow.

The rest of Silas’s club straddle their bikes one by one, silhouettes against the inferno as the fire takes over, devouring the rot and incinerating the bodies we left behind.

Maybe the cops will investigate. Perhaps they’ll pull a DNA sample from a tooth, the only identifier in the charred remains.

But I don’t have the mental capacity to care about that right now.

Frankly, I think the universe owes me one for scrubbing the world of him and so many others like him before this.

“I need to show you something before we head back to my place,” Silas says, steady but sure.

“’Kay,” I murmur. It’s all I can manage. I’m too tired and physically exhausted to care.

I drift as we drive, zoning out to the rhythm of the road and the steady ringing in my ears that still hasn’t passed.

It’s so damn easy to let Silas take the reins.

The outskirts of town pass in blurs of shadows and then streetlights as we creep into the city limits.

The tires begin to slow, and I blink, finally registering where we are.

“You fucking brought me to Macon’s,” I say, my voice straining against the volume. “I don’t have the energy to deal with him right now, Si. This needs to wait.”

“Look,” he says.

His tone makes me pause. I pivot in the seat, straining to lift my good eye over the tall hedges lining the sidewalk.

Then I see it. The same orange glow we left behind fills the sky here, too.

However, this time, it’s accompanied by thick, billowing smoke and the frantic flashing of red and blue.

Emergency vehicles are lined up in rows, clustered around what’s left of Macon’s estate.

Fire crews scramble, shouting over radios, as they try to keep the flames contained.

My hand instinctively reaches for the buckle at my hip, but Silas’s hand is already there. His warm touch envelops mine with quiet reassurance.

“Your mom and her nurse are already at my place,” he says gently. “We’ll get her settled in the morning. From what Chopper texted, they’re fine. Candice is asleep in the guest room. My guys cleared the rest of Macon’s house twice to ensure no one else was inside.”

“And Macon?” I whisper because I feel like if I voice my hopes too loudly, the universe I’m squared up with might just decide to snatch it back.

“Wildcat, I told you I’d handle him and his boss. But you had to—” He stops himself, shaking off the reprimand hanging on the edge of his tongue. “He’s done. Gone. No longer a problem. And I never want to hear his name muttered past those beautiful lips, again. Got it?”

“Deal,” I whisper.

Silas takes it as his cue and pulls us back onto the road. We pass the fire scene slowly, the flashing lights glinting off the windshield, cops rushing around, trying to make sense of the scene.

But for me—for us, it’s over.

“Thank you,” I whisper as low as humanly possible, but the radio’s off, and the tires on the asphalt hum a steady rhythm, ready to pull me into a deep sleep. “I love you,” I add, then I let it.