Page 16 of Unhinged

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

brYDGETT

I keep my hand wrapped around Judge's as we move through the alley, the weight of the day pressing down on me, thick and suffocating. The city hums with life behind us, but it feels miles away. I can’t focus on anything but the path ahead—the need to stay one step ahead of the Renegades.

The need to get to the storage unit. To get to Ike.

My body aches, craving the safety of my alphas.

No. Not mine. Just… alphas. Ones who could protect me.

It's a visceral pull, deep in my bones—like my soul knows their strength and the way they could make us feel safe. But I can’t fall for that again. Not after everything. You let your guard down with an alpha, and it ends with you damaged beyond repair.

The thought of it makes my heart race, the rhythm of it thundering in my chest. My core tingles with that dangerous, familiar heat, and I can feel it—slick and needy—my body betraying me. It's too much, too close, and I can't let myself forget what that kind of power does to me.

I glance down at Judge, his face a mix of innocence and worry. His small fingers grip mine, and I feel his pulse, steady and warm. He’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this life. To the hope that, someday, we’ll be able to outrun the ghosts of our past. And now Gears and his brothers.

I don’t look back. Not at our apartment, not at the alley, not at anything that might trace our steps. We have to be ghosts now—quiet, elusive, shadows in the dark.

We round the corner, keeping low, blending into the night. The plan is simple: get to the storage unit, get my car, and head to Ike’s place. He’ll let us crash there for a while. But first, we need to get there without anyone seeing us.

Every step feels too loud in the silence between us.

Every breath I take is calculated, controlled.

Judge’s grip on my hand tightens, and I glance down at him again.

His eyes are wide, alert. He’s too smart for his age, and I hate that he’s already learned the rules of survival.

But I won’t let him become like me—not if I can help it.

We keep moving through the streets, staying in the shadows, the edges of the light.

The weight of the duffle bag on my shoulder is a reminder of everything I’ve lost, and everything I still have to protect.

My hands itch for the comfort of the weapons I’ve hidden under the seat of my car.

I need to feel them there. A sense of security in a life that offers none.

Every so often, I glance over my shoulder, scanning for any sign of them.

The Renegades. Acid, Gears, and Arrow. I know they’re out there, hunting me.

I can almost feel them, their eyes on my back, their presence heavy in the air.

But I don’t stop. I can’t. Not while Judge is by my side.

Not while there’s still a chance to escape.

We reach the street where the storage unit is located; the lights flickering in the distance. The place is isolated, tucked away behind an old warehouse that’s seen better days. The perfect place for a car that doesn’t belong in the world I’m trying to leave behind.

I squeeze Judge’s hand one more time, pulling him into the shadows between two buildings.

We wait for a moment, my pulse pounding in my ears.

I can feel the quiet hum of the city, the low buzz of life happening just out of reach, but it all feels miles away.

I pull the keys from my pocket, the cold metal biting against my fingers.

This is the part I’ve been dreading. The part where I can’t be sure if I’m safe.

I take a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it go. We step out into the street, keeping to the edges, my eyes flicking back and forth like a hunted animal.

The storage unit comes into view, and I let out a slow breath. We’re almost there. I can almost feel the weight of the past few days lifting off my shoulders, but the moment I open that door, the real work begins.

We move quickly, my steps silent but urgent. I don’t look at Judge. I don’t want to see the fear in his eyes. He knows the rules by now. He knows what’s at stake, even if he doesn’t fully understand the danger we’re in.

I reach the unit and pull open the door, the metal grinding against the track.

The sound seems too loud, too sharp, in the stillness of the night.

But it’s too late to turn back now. The car is inside, parked as I left it, a nondescript silver Honda Civic.

Nothing flashy, nothing that’ll attract attention, but it’s mine. It’s my ticket out.

I pull the key from the box under the seat, my fingers shaking slightly as I turn it in the ignition. The engine roars to life, and I hear Judge’s quiet breath behind me. He’s still here. Still with me. We’re still moving.

I pull out onto the main road, keeping the car steady, eyes flicking constantly to the rearview mirror. Every turn, every shadow, every flicker of movement behind me has me on edge. I know they’re out there. The Renegades are somewhere close, and I can feel it. They won’t stop until they find me.

But not tonight. Tonight, I won’t let them catch me.

Each mile between us and the storage unit feels like a small victory, but I know it’s only a temporary one. Ike’s place is close, but the Renegades are still hunting. And I can’t afford to make any mistakes now.

Judge shifts in his seat behind me, his small fingers tapping lightly on the back of my seat.

He doesn’t speak, but I feel the tension in his movements.

His fear, his anxiety. It echoes in my chest, but I don’t let it show.

Not now. I glance in the rearview mirror again.

The headlights of passing cars blink like fleeting shadows, but there’s nothing else.

We’re safe—for now.

But I can’t stay still for long. Not while they’re out there.

I push the Civic harder, the engine humming louder as I take another turn, my mind spiraling through everything that’s led to this moment.

My thoughts are a whirl of survival, of what’s coming, of what I need to do to keep us both alive.

The urge to drive right back to the clubhouse nags at me, a constant reminder of what my designation demands.

But I can’t afford to be weak. Not again.

When we finally pull up to the modest two-story house, my body sags with relief.

My fingers ache from gripping the wheel too tightly, my nerves frayed from the constant need to stay ahead.

The porch light flickers on, casting a warm glow over the front steps, and a familiar figure emerges from the doorway.

Ike.

He’s barefoot, his jeans slung low on his hips, his t-shirt wrinkled from sleep or just sheer indifference.

His beard is streaked with more gray than the last time I saw him, but his sharp eyes—those same eyes that have seen me at my worst and still never wavered—lock onto me with a mix of concern and surprise.

“Brydgett?”

I barely get the door open before I’m moving, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten as I launch myself at him.

My arms wrap around his solid frame, the scent of leather and old spice grounding me in a way nothing else has.

The fight drains from me, leaving behind a hollow, aching need for stability, for safety—even if it’s just for a little while.

“We need to stay awhile,” I whisper against his chest. “I need to figure out what to do next.”

Ike doesn’t hesitate. He nods, his arms tightening around me briefly before he pulls back and glances at Judge. A grin tugs at his lips, softening the hard angles of his face, before he effortlessly swoops the kid up.

Judge shrieks with laughter as Ike swings him around, his small fingers clinging to the front of Ike’s shirt. “Ike!”

“C’mon, kid. Let’s get you inside.” He shifts Judge onto his back in one smooth motion, piggybacking him toward the house like it’s second nature. Like we belong here. Like we’re not running.

I follow silently, my muscles aching with exhaustion, my mind a whirlwind of regret and indecision.

As soon as I step inside, I head straight for the room Ike keeps for me.

It’s untouched. The same neatly made bed, the same old dresser, the same scent of cedar and the faintest hint of gun oil. My safe haven.

Piled high on the bed are soft blankets and way too many pillows—comfort I didn’t ask for but always end up needing.

Guess some omega traits, not even suppressants can fix.

I set our bags down, releasing a slow breath as I run a hand through my tangled hair.

My reflection in the mirror over the dresser catches my eye—dark circles smudging under my eyes, my skin paler than usual, my mouth pressed into a thin, wary line.

I look like someone who hasn’t slept in days.

I look like someone who’s running from something she might not actually want to escape.

A knock sounds at the door before it creaks open. Ike steps inside, shutting it behind him with a quiet click. He crosses the room with that steady, measured stride of his, settling into the chair at the desk. His arms folded across his chest, his sharp gaze pinning me in place.

“Where’s Judge?” I ask, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips beneath me, an unfamiliar comfort.

“With Jackie. They’re making cupcakes,” Ike replies, leaning back in his chair, one brow arching slightly. “He asked, and you know she can’t say no to him—grandma thing. Now, seriously, what’s going on?”

I swallow hard, my hands twisting together in my lap. How do I even start? My throat feels tight, my mind still reeling from everything that’s happened.

“I got caught.” The words feel foreign on my tongue.

“I wasn’t sloppy, I swear. But the Renegade MC—they took Judge to get to me, thinking I could lead them to the Slayer.

They had me in the basement, trying to break me—unsuccessfully, I might add—when Judge burst in and told them I was the killer they’re looking for.

” I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “The little shit has known for God knows how long. And in the middle of all of it, my blockers wore off.”

Ike’s brows furrow. “What are you saying?”

I close my eyes, exhaling shakily. “I’m Kismet to the President, VP, and Enforcer of the Renegade. Gears, Arrow, and Acid.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. Ike rubs a hand over his chin, his jaw ticking as he processes my words. When he finally speaks, he’s calm—too calm.

“Honey, are you sure you weren’t exactly where you needed to be?” He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “Kismet bonds are serious, girl. Maybe they’re not as bad as you think. You got off on the wrong foot.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “They tied me to a chair and hit me, Ike.” I can’t believe he’s seriously defending them right now.

He doesn’t flinch. “I did worse to you during training. Don’t act like you don’t get off on it, Brydgett. I know you.”

“Ike!” I howl, my hands curling into fists. Anger rises like a wildfire in my chest, burning away the exhaustion.

He just shakes his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “We ain’t blood, honey. I love you like we are, but I know violence is your love language.”

My stomach twists. “I can’t, Ike. I thought I was safe with a family and an alpha before, and look where that got me. A world of hurt.” I waver, but I force myself to meet his gaze. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

His expression softens just a fraction. “It also got you Judge,” he points out. “So don’t let all that hurt and anger make you forget that the worst time in your life brought you the best thing that ever happened to you.”

A lump forms in my throat. I hate that he’s right. I hate that despite everything, the reminder of Judge—my reason for surviving, my anchor—makes me hesitate.

“You’re right,” I murmur. “And I’m grateful for him every day.” I lift my gaze, my resolve hardening. “But I can’t let myself trust an alpha. Especially not three who have already shown they’re violent.”

Ike exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Just don’t close a door that’s begging to be open, girl.” He stands, stretching. “Now, I’m gonna go see that boy of yours—he owes me a round of Uno.”

He leaves, and I sink back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My thoughts spiral, the what-ifs circling like vultures.

What if Ike’s right?

What if I made a mistake?

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, willing away the doubt clawing at my insides. I don’t run from my problems—I never have. But this… this feels like something I’m running toward just as much as I’m running from.

And I don’t know which terrifies me more.