Page 21 of Viking (Dixie Reapers MC #24)

Karoline

The truck had barely pulled away from Viking’s house when the first shots rang out. Atlas slammed on the brakes, his young face suddenly going white with fear as he scanned the darkness. “We can’t make it to the safe house,” he said, his voice cracking. “Road’s blocked.”

More gunfire erupted, closer now. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “Back to the house. Viking anticipated this and gave me orders if extraction fails to fortify in place.”

I clutched Athena tighter against my chest, her tiny body rigid with fear, and nodded. We had no choice.

Atlas reversed the truck with surprising skill, tires spitting gravel as we careened back toward Viking’s house.

The distance we’d covered in barely a minute took an eternity to retrace, each second punctuated by distant shouts and the pop-pop-pop of gunfire.

We skidded to a stop, but Atlas didn’t cut the engine.

“Get inside, barricade everything,” he instructed, his young voice dropped unnaturally low in imitation of his father’s authoritative tone. “I need to get back to the clubhouse.”

I didn’t waste time arguing, just yanked the door open and ran with Athena in my arms, her face buried against my neck. The key -- where was the key? My hands shook so badly I dropped my purse on the porch, contents scattering. Behind us, Atlas’s truck peeled away, disappearing into the darkness.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I whispered to Athena as I fumbled with the lock, finally pushing the door open. “We’re going to be fine.”

Inside, I set Athena down just long enough to slam the door shut and engage all three deadbolts. The security bar came next, sliding into place with a solid thunk that gave me a moment’s comfort. But it wouldn’t be enough. Not against men with military training and tactical gear.

“Stay close to me,” I told Athena, who hadn’t moved from where I’d placed her, Hopper clutched tightly to her chest, her eyes wide and watchful. The distant crack of gunfire punctuated my words, making me flinch.

I moved to the living room windows first, pushing a button beside it and watching as bars slid down over the outside, then yanking the curtains closed.

Outside, engines revved -- motorcycles and what sounded like heavier vehicles.

More gunfire, closer now. A man’s voice shouted orders I couldn’t make out.

I hurried to secure the rest of the windows in the house, as well as the back door.

Athena remained in the entry where I’d left her, and I raced back to her.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with shaking hands, hoping for a message from Viking, but the screen showed nothing.

No service. They must have brought jammers or cut the cell towers. So who had just tried to reach me?

An explosion rocked the ground beneath us, close enough that I felt the vibration through the floorboards.

Athena stumbled against my leg, her tiny fingers digging into my jeans.

My heart hammered so hard I could barely breathe, but I forced myself to keep moving.

I double checked the locks, then set the chair under the doorknob of the back door just as an extra precaution.

“What next, what next?” I muttered, scanning the house for anything I’d missed. The bathroom -- interior room, no windows. The most secure space. Unless the house was breached. Then we’d be sitting ducks.

“We need to get to the bathroom,” I told Athena, scooping her up again. She went willingly, her body curled against mine like she was trying to make herself as small as possible. “It’s going to be okay,” I promised, though I had no right to make such guarantees.

More explosions, then the rapid staccato of automatic gunfire.

Something shattered outside -- glass, metal, I couldn’t tell.

Men were shouting, their voices raised in anger or pain or both.

I tried not to think about which voices might be silenced forever tonight.

Tried not to think about Viking out there, putting his body between us and danger.

In the bathroom, I locked the door and looked around for anything to barricade it with. The small linen cabinet was too flimsy, but I dragged it in front of the door anyway, more for the psychological comfort than any actual protection it would provide.

I sank down into the tub, pulling Athena onto my lap, her back against my chest, both of us facing the door. Her copper curls tickled my chin as I wrapped my arms around her small frame. She was shivering, and I knew it was from fear.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered into her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The battle outside intensified. The rat-tat-tat of gunfire merged with shouts and the rumble of engines. Another explosion, this one farther away, followed by the unmistakable sound of men cheering. The club? Had they gained some advantage? I had no way to know.

My hands shook as I stroked Athena’s hair, trying to comfort her while my own fear threatened to swallow me whole.

Would this be how we died? Huddled in a bathtub while men with guns tore through the flimsy barriers I’d erected?

Would Viking find our bodies, or would he already be beyond caring, his own body cooling on the compound ground?

The thought brought a physical pain so intense I gasped. Viking. The man who’d given us so much in so little time. Who’d looked at me tonight with such naked emotion in his eyes when he’d told me he wanted me -- not out of obligation or duty, but because I felt right in his life.

Athena shifted in my lap, turning to look up at me with those solemn eyes that saw too much. With one small hand, she reached up and touched my cheek, her fingers coming away wet. I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

“Viking?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the chaos outside.

My heart cracked open at the sound of his name on her lips. “He’s fighting to protect us,” I told her, my voice steadier than I felt. “He’s very brave and very strong.”

More gunfire, another explosion. The bathroom light flickered, then steadied. Athena pressed Hopper against my chest, a gesture of comfort that nearly undid me completely.

And in that moment, with death perhaps minutes away, clarity struck me like a physical blow.

I loved him. Not the teenage fantasy version I’d carried for years, but the real man -- complicated, dangerous, gentle.

The Viking who’d kissed me in the hallway like I was something precious.

Who’d looked at Athena and seen not a burden but a child worth protecting.

Who’d given me a choice when the world was taking all my choices away.

I loved him, and I might never get to tell him.

I pulled Athena closer, rocking her gently as the battle raged. “Your dad, my brother Kris, sent us to Viking because he knew Viking would keep us safe,” I whispered into her hair, as much to comfort myself as her. “And he will. He promised.”

Another explosion, so close the mirror rattled on the wall. Athena flinched, burying her face against my chest.

“Please,” I whispered into the darkness, a prayer to whatever God might be listening. “Please keep him safe. Let him come back to us.” My voice broke on the last word. Us. When had we become an us ? When had I started thinking of Viking and Athena and myself as a unit, a family?

“We’re going to be okay,” I promised Athena, stroking her hair. “And when this is over, we’re staying with Viking. Would you like that? To stay here with him?”

She didn’t answer, but her tiny hand found mine and squeezed. It was enough.

Outside, the gunfire continued, punctuated by shouts and the roar of engines.

I closed my eyes, holding Athena close, and waited for whatever came next -- death or salvation.

Both seemed equally possible as the night stretched on, measured in gunshots and heartbeats and silent prayers for the man I loved.

* * *

Viking

I took position behind the concrete barricade at the main gate, the familiar weight of my Glock a cold comfort against my palm.

Around me, brothers spread out in the defensive formation we’d drilled a hundred times in the last several months but never expected to use against government operatives.

Tank crouched to my right, his massive frame somehow finding cover behind an oil drum, while Tempest and Zipper flanked our left, assault rifles at the ready.

The night air carried the scent of gun oil and sweat and the metallic tang of fear that no one would admit to feeling.

“Atlas just radioed in,” Savior said, his voice low and tight as he slid into position beside me. “Couldn’t make the safe house. Road’s blocked.”

My gut clenched. “Where are they?”

“Back at your house. Kid said he dropped them and headed back here per your standing orders.”

I nodded once, relief and fresh fear warring in my chest. My house was fortified -- triple deadbolts, reinforced windows, security system -- but it wasn’t a bunker.

If these bastards got past us… Not to mention, the easiest way to take them out would be to bomb my house while Athena and Karoline were inside.

“Positions!” I barked, pushing personal fear aside.

Twenty brothers looked to me, their Road Captain, for direction.

All because Savior had let me take point since it was my family we were protecting.

“Tank, take four men to the east gate. Sticks, your team covers the garage approach. Flicker, get the Prospects on the rooftops with rifles.” I turned to Wire, who stood ready with his radio.

“Keep Atlas on surveillance. I want to know every move these fuckers make.”