Page 3 of Victorious, Part 2 (The LA Defiance MC #6)

CLOVER

A slow smirk crosses my face as I slowly detach from Phoenix. “How does he always know exactly when to show up?” I ask, grateful for the momentary lightness.

Phoenix actually cracks a smile. “Maybe he’s psychic. Wouldn’t surprise me at this point.”

Dracula approaches, winding around my legs with a contented purr. The simple act of petting him, feeling his warm fur under my fingers, grounds me in a way that nothing else has.

“At least someone’s having a good day,” I murmur.

“He’s taking care of us,” Phoenix observes. “In his own weird way.”

And it’s true.

Every time we’ve stopped, every time we’ve fallen apart a little more, Dracula has been there. A constant in a world that’s been turned upside down.

A good omen, he is then.

“Come on,” Phoenix says finally, his voice steadier now. “We should pack and get going.”

This time, I don’t argue.

This time, we both move to gather our things.

But as Phoenix heads back toward our makeshift shelter for the night, I catch his arm.

“Whatever we find in Vegas,” I say, looking up into his eyes. “Whatever happens next. We face it together, okay?”

He studies my face for a long time, and I see the exact moment he makes the decision to trust me.

To trust us.

“Together,” he agrees.

I smile, take his hand, and lead us and our stray cat over to pack our things.

Once everything is stowed, Phoenix hops in the driver’s side, and I take one last look around, Dracula circling my feet.

I peer inside at Phoenix, biting down on my bottom lip.

“We can’t just leave him here, you know that.

It would be animal cruelty at this point. ”

Phoenix’s hands grip the steering wheel tight, his eyes clenching as he simply huffs.

“You know what? The sat phone is broken, we need to get on the road back to Vegas and continue getting the content for your client, which is the entire reason we came on this road trip in the first place. At this point, I don’t have it in me to argue. ”

I jump a little on the spot. “We can keep him?” My eyes widen in question, a little scream escaping me as I bend down, picking Dracula up into my arms. He cuddles into me, a soft purr rumbling from his chest.

Phoenix side-eyes me, then waves me in. “If he shits in the truck, you’re cleaning it!”

I giggle as I hoist the cat inside, and instantly, he hisses at Phoenix, causing him to recoil in response. “The fucking thing hates me, Clo.”

I slide in beside Phoenix with a smirk and shut the door behind me.

Dracula immediately curls into my lap like he owns the place, and he’s already asleep before we’ve even pulled out of the lot.

“He doesn’t hate you, Presley…” I use the nickname I gave him back at the start of our road trip, something soft, personal, born from his mother’s obsession with Elvis and the way Phoenix carries that same quiet soul beneath all the grit. “He just likes me more. That’s all.”

Phoenix rolls his eyes, though I see a faint hint of a smile crossing his lips. “Don’t you think I see what you’re doing. Calling me Presley to try to distract me from the cat. I’m onto you, Reel Girl,” he chimes, a hint of humor in his tone before he starts the engine.

The familiar rumble fills the silence between us. But as we pull away from the waterpark, and the desert landscape starts to blur past the windows, I feel it again. That crushing weight of leaving everyone behind.

“Phoenix,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the engine.

“Yeah?”

“Haven’s been on my mind. That night she let me in, told me what our father did when he took her, the shit she had to survive…

I can’t shake it.” I pause, gathering courage.

“She said the hardest part wasn’t the violence or the fear of being sold to the Cartel.

It felt like she didn’t matter enough for anyone to come looking for her.

” Phoenix’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“I can’t stop thinking that they might be feeling that way right now,” I continue.

“Like we abandoned them. Like they don’t matter enough for us to come back. ”

“Clo—”

“But then I think about what you said. About sometimes, the hardest thing is to do nothing. And I wonder if that is what love looks like. Not the grand gesture or the heroic rescue. Just trusting someone enough to do what they asked. Even when it’s killing you.”

Phoenix is quiet for a moment. When he does speak, his voice is rough with emotion.

“Maverick didn’t send you away because you don’t matter,” he states.

“He sent you away because you matter more than anything . Because losing you would destroy him in a way that no war ever could.” The truth of that hits me like a physical blow.

“And Sadie didn’t ask me to be with you because she doesn’t need me,” Phoenix continues.

“She asked me to because she knows…” he hesitates, but then continues, “… I need you. She knows that if something happened to you , I’d never forgive myself for not being there to help. ”

I look over at him, this man who’s given up everything to keep me safe and who’s facing his own demons while trying to hold me together.

My heart is practically bursting from his words.

“We’re a freaking mess,” I whisper softly.

“Yeah, we are,” he agrees, glancing over with something close to a smile. “But you are one hell of a sexy mess, Clover.”

Dracula purrs in my lap like he approves. I don’t answer. I simply smile and turn to the window, watching the blur of the desert rush by, hoping it hides the flush blooming across my cheeks, the kind that stirs when you hear something you didn’t know you needed until it was said.

The miles stretch ahead of us, each one taking us farther from the people we love and closer to an uncertain future. But for the first time since this nightmare began, I don’t feel completely alone.

We drive in comfortable silence for a while, the desert giving way to more populated areas, signs of civilization becoming more frequent, but the weight of our situation never fully lifts.

And after a while, it’s Phoenix who breaks the silence. “When we get to Vegas,” his voice carefully measured. “We’re going to have to make some decisions.”

“What kind of decisions?” I ask.

“About what comes next. About how long we wait before…” he trails off, but I know what he’s not saying.

Before we accept that we might never hear from home again.

“How long would you wait?” I query.

His jaw works from side to side as he considers the options. “For Sadie? Forever. But that’s not realistic. At some point, we have to face the possibility that the war might already be over.”

The words hang between us like a death sentence.

“And if it is?” I whisper. “If we’re all that’s left of LA Defiance?”

Phoenix’s knuckles turn white as they grip the steering wheel in a death-like hold. “Then we figure out how to honor their memory. How to make sure their sacrifice meant something.”

The idea is too big, too horrible to fully grasp.

A world without Maverick, without Haven and Alpha, without Ingrid and South, or Montana and Rhyan.

Oh God.

What about Navy, Ellie, Dutch, and the animals?

Even Rip. He’s crazy, but I can’t imagine the club without a morning of ‘the waves are totally gnarly today, dudes!’ And grumpy Loki, who only became happy when beautiful Bea came to the club.

Hell, I can’t imagine my life without any of the people who have become my family.

“I can’t,” I exhale out a staggered breath. “I can’t think about that.”

“Then don’t,” Phoenix says firmly. “Not yet. Not until we have to.”

But the insidious thought is there now. Planted like a seed of poison.

What if we really are driving toward nothing?

What if Vegas is simply a pretty place to wait for the end of the world?

Neon lights and loneliness.

Dracula seems to sense my spiraling thoughts because he stands up on my lap, pressing his paws against my chest and purrs loudly. The vibration against my ribs is oddly soothing.

“He’s got the right idea,” Phoenix observes. “Live in the moment. Don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow.”

“When did a stray cat become our spiritual advisor?” I scoff.

“About the time our lives turned into a disaster movie.”

Despite everything, I laugh. It’s a small sound, fragile as spun glass, but it’s real. And Phoenix smiles in response. “There she is,” he murmurs. “There’s my Reel Girl.”

The possessive warmth in his voice does things to my chest that I’m not ready to examine.

Not when everything else is so uncertain.

But I file it away.

This moment.

That smile.

The way he’s looking at me, it’s as if I’m something precious.

Because if we really are heading toward the end of everything, then I want to remember this.

The way Phoenix makes me feel less broken.

The way Dracula purrs like he’s trying to hold us together with sound alone.

The way the desert sun paints everything golden, making even tragedy feel beautiful.

“Vegas, here we come,” I whisper, and for the first time, it doesn’t sound like a funeral march.

Instead, it’s the slightest ounce of hope.

And if you have hope to hold onto, you can do anything.

We continue to drive, and Dracula has made himself comfortable in the space behind our seats, curled up on Phoenix’s leather jacket as though it’s his personal throne.

“Looks like he’s settled in for the long haul,” I observe.

Phoenix glances in the rearview mirror and shakes his head. “That cat has claimed us, hasn’t he?”

“Could be worse, at least he’s house-trained.”

“You sure about that?”

As if on cue, Dracula opens one yellow eye and gives Phoenix a look that clearly states, ‘Watch it, human.’

I burst out laughing. “I think he understood you.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s probably smarter than both of us combined. An evil mastermind behind all that fluff.”

Glancing back at Dracula, I pet his cute head, and as Vegas grows closer with each mile, I feel something shift inside me. The farther we leave LA in our rearview, the heavier the pit in my stomach grows.

The more my anxiety levels up a notch.

The more my inner monologue is telling me that Maverick would never, ever leave me behind when his gut is telling him that something is wrong.

Gnawing down on my bottom lip, the afternoon sun is beginning its descent toward the western horizon, casting long shadows across the desert sand.

According to the GPS, we’re making good time.

It’s just past one thirty in the afternoon, and the Mojave National Preserve is coming up in about thirty minutes.

“We should make a pit stop,” Phoenix suggests, following my gaze to the landscape ahead. “I know you had that list of places you wanted to photograph.”

I pull out my phone and scroll through the itinerary we’d planned, which feels like a lifetime ago.

The screen shows ‘No Service’ in the upper corner.

We’re still too deep in the desert for cell towers to reach us.

Reminding me of the pit in my stomach that the club, my family, and my home are still out of reach.

Exhaling, I weakly smile at him. “The Mojave Preserve was supposed to be our afternoon stop. Joshua trees and desert landscapes.”

“You still want to do that?” he asks carefully. “Given everything?”

I consider our options. Part of me wants to drive straight through to Vegas, to get to somewhere with cell service, to find out if our worst fears have come true.

But another part of me, the part that’s been subtly eye-fucking Phoenix as he drives since that kiss, thinks maybe we need this.

Maybe we need to prove to ourselves that we can still find beauty in the world, even when everything feels broken.

That, and the fact I’m on this trip being paid to carry out a job. A job that means I need to fulfil certain obligations. Like making the content, I said I would. Even if all I want to do is find out about my family, Maverick would want me to keep calm and carry on.

So that is exactly what I am going to do.

For now.

“Yeah,” I say, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice. “I think I do want to. And maybe by the time we’re done there, we’ll be close enough to populated areas to get cell signal back.”

Phoenix nods, understanding. The broken satellite phone is a constant reminder of our isolation, but maybe that’s not entirely a bad thing right now.

“Mojave it is, then,” he chimes.

As Phoenix drives, I tell myself to stay calm.

To just breathe. But the farther we go, the harder it gets.

Each mile puts more distance between us and home, and the silence in the truck leaves too much space for my thoughts to spiral.

I try not to, but all I can think about is how there’s no way to reach them, and this low, dull ache that won’t let me forget I have to get back to my brother.

Because he spent every second of his life fighting for me.

And my guilt for not doing the same for him right now is eating me alive.

A single tear slides down my cheek as I stare out the window, my bottom lip trembling.

I’m so fucking sorry, Mav.