I twist hard, the motion as natural as breathing, born of brawls and battles fought in the name of brotherhood. Bones snap, a sound like dry wood splintering in a campfire. The blade clatters to the concrete.
The woman’s scream morphs into one of pain, high and ragged. Her face contorts, eyes wild with shock and agony. She crumples, but I don’t ease up until I’m sure she’s no longer a threat to Lyric.
“Stay down,” I growl, the command rumbling deep within my chest.
My heart still races, thumping against my ribcage like it’s trying to break free. I lock eyes with Lyric, whose gaze swims with unshed tears and relief. But we’re not done here—not by a long shot.
Reaper is there in a flash, his large frame a barricade between Lyric and the crumpled woman. He yanks her back by her jacket’s collar like he’s pulling a sack of trash from the curb. Andme? I’m shaking, vibrating with a fury that’s got nowhere to go now but out.
“Dammit, Lyric!” My voice is a snarl, a beast unleashed. “You could’ve been killed! What the hell were you thinking, not telling anyone where you were headed?”
My hands are fists at my sides, every muscle coiled tight. It’s a miracle I had that tracker on her phone, a lifeline she didn’t even know she had.
Her eyes are wide, shock giving way to the realization of what just went down. She starts to speak, her voice small against the roar in my ears, “Highway, I—”
“Save it,” I bite out, cutting her off. There’s no room for excuses. Not now. Not when she was a hair’s breadth away from a blade ending everything.
Reaper’s chuckle cuts through my rage, but it’s hollow, lacking any real mirth. “Girl, you’re more trouble than your sister ever was,” he says, shaking his head. His hand still grips the woman, keeping her at bay. “But damn if I don’t have a soft spot for Lucy. Means you’re family, like it or not.”
Lyric’s trying to stitch herself back together, an apology trembling on her lips. But Reaper isn’t done. The laughter drains from his face, leaving it cold as a slab in the morgue. His next words are a low growl meant for her and her alone.
“Don’t be so reckless, Lyric. Never, ever dare to be so stupid as to go it alone. That’s not what Bastards do! If you want to be part of us then act like it!”
The air is electric with his warning, his protectiveness something fierce and unyielding. For a moment, nobody moves. We’re all caught in the gravity of his words, the unspoken consequences hanging heavy between us.
Reaper’s grip is iron as he hauls the woman away, her curses trailing like exhaust fumes. I watch them go, tension coiling in my gut.
Lyric is beside me, quivering slightly. She’s been through hell, but she’s still standing, tough as they come. Her eyes catch mine, full of remorse.
“Highway, I’m so sorry—”
“Stop talking.” My voice is gravelly, raw with anger and fear tangled together. “You think sorry is gonna cut it?”
She flinches, and I hate myself for it, but the rage is a living thing inside me. “I love you.” The words are harsh, clipped with the effort it takes to keep from shaking her. “But if you pull a stunt like this again…” My hand balls into a fist. “I swear, Lyric, you won’t sit down for a week.”
Her breath catches, eyes wide and fixed on me. There’s fear there, yes, but underneath it, something that looks like wonder.
The words hang in the air, raw and jagged. I can see them hitting her, slicing through the panic and fear. Her lips part, tears brimming in those wide, haunted eyes.
“Highway,” she whispers, voice trembling. “I love you too.” It’s a confession ripped from somewhere deep, a truth laid bare between us.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a drumbeat of war and want. This woman, my Lyric, brave and reckless, has me by the soul. I step forward, closing the gap, my hands finding her face.
“Lyric,” I growl, every emotion I’ve got bleeding into her name.
Our lips crash together, electric and desperate. I kiss her like I’m claiming her, branding her as mine with every sweep of my tongue. She meets me with fire and a need that echoes my own, her arms winding around my neck.
I’m all hard lines and rough edges, and she’s soft curves and fierce spirit. My kiss tells her everything—my anger, my fear, and my love. It’s all there in the push and pull, the give and take.
“You belong to me,” I murmur against her lips, a promise, a vow.
“Yes,” she breathes back, and it’s all the surrender I need.
***
We arrive back at the clubhouse, Lyric’s hand clutched in mine, trembling but alive. The infirmary door swings open with a thud that echoes my racing pulse. There, Justice is working on the woman, wrapping her arm in a sling, his face as hard as the steel of his tools.
“Sit tight,” he orders.
