Part 1: The Promise Forged in Rain
Chapter 1: The Gas Station and the Ghost of a Promise
The road just chose its side.
The headlights crept closer. Slow as a wolf approaching a wounded deer. Too slow to be an accident. Too steady to be harmless.
Emily’s hands flew to the ignition again. Click, click, click. Nothing but a dying cough from the engine. “Please, please start,” she whispered.
Lena didn’t beg the car. She didn’t cry. She just pressed her forehead to her knees and wrapped her arms around herself, like she’d been taught to shrink on command.
Ghost stepped into the glow of the headlights, shoulders squared. Ridge followed, hands open at his sides. Not a weapon drawn. Not yet. Wheeler cracked his knuckles.
Hail stood in front of all three, his body language calm, almost relaxed. That kind of calm only came from men who had already decided what they would do.
The approaching car slowed. Its engine idled low and throaty. Tinted windows, mud-caked tires, the kind of front bumper that tells stories of things that never made it into police reports.
Emily’s breath turned sharp, shallow. “That’s his car,” she whispered. “He found us again. I… I don’t know how he keeps finding us.”
Hail didn’t look back. “Emily, does he have a name?”
She hesitated, then choked out: “Calder.” The name tasted like rust and broken bones.
Ridge muttered. “I’ve heard that name.”
Ghost nodded once. “Me, too.”
Wheeler spat into the gravel. “Not a good sign.”
The car rolled to a stop, engine still running. The driver’s door cracked open, and a man stepped out like he owned the entire horizon. Broad shoulders, bad tattoos, a cheap leather jacket soaked by the rain.
He had a smile that wasn’t a smile at all. Just teeth arranged in a threat.
Calder looked at the bikers first, assessing, calculating, deciding whether they were worth the trouble. Then he looked at Emily. She flinched so hard the door frame shook.
Calder smiled wider. “There you are,” he said.
Lena pressed back into the seat, breath sharp, shoulders trembling.
Hail spoke without raising his voice. “Stay where you are.”
Calder’s eyes moved to him, slow, deliberate, amused. “You one of them?” he asked. “Or just playing tough?”
Ghost sneered. “He’s not playing.”
Calder ignored him. He took one step toward the sedan.
Emily gasped. “Please don’t.”
“Relax,” Calder said. “I’m just here for what’s mine.”
Ridge stepped forward, voice flat. “She’s not yours.”
Calder’s head tilted. “You got no idea what you’re stepping into.”
Wheeler smirked. “We were about to say the same to you.”
Calder laughed—short, sharp, humorless. “You think this is a rescue?” he asked. “You think you’re the first idiots to step between her and me?”
Emily squeezed her eyes shut.
Calder continued. “Every time she runs, someone plays hero. And every time, they end up in a ditch.”
Hail didn’t blink. “What did she run from?”
Calder smiled. “You want the whole story, or you want to step aside while I take my family home?”
Emily’s voice cracked open. “She’s not going with you.”
Calder slammed his fist on the car roof, making Lena jump. “You don’t get a say, Em,” he growled. “Not after what you did.”
Emily shook her head violently, tears mixing with the rain. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did,” Calder snapped. “You tried to hide her from me—from her father.”
Ridge froze. Ghost’s jaw tightened. Wheeler whispered. “That girl’s not his.”
Emily’s shoulders collapsed. “She’s not,” she whispered. “And he knows that.”
Calder’s expression darkened. Hail stepped between him and the sedan.
“You need to turn around and leave,” Hail said. “One time only.”
Calder looked him up and down. “You sure you want to do this, old man?”
Ghost chuckled. “You really should stop talking.”
Calder stepped closer, ignoring the warning. He pointed at the sedan. “That girl owes me,” he said. “I fed her. I clothed her. I took care of her mother.”
Ridge broke. “You don’t take care of anyone,” he said. “You take, period.”
Calder grinned slowly. “You know what the funny thing is?” he asked. “She used to cry every time I left.”
Lena didn’t move, didn’t breathe, but something in her eyes changed just slightly. A flicker, a shadow, a memory she shoved so deep down it lived in a different part of her.
Hail saw it, and the decision crystallized. “You’re done here,” Hail said.
Calder stepped closer. “You going to make me leave?”
Hail didn’t answer. Ridge did. He took one step forward and said, “Yeah, we are.”
Calder swung first. His fist hit Ridge’s jaw with the kind of force that usually ends fights. Ridge didn’t even stumble. He just turned back to Calder with a look that could freeze water.
Calder’s grin faltered.
Ridge hit him once. Just once. Calder dropped to both knees. Blood mixed instantly with the rain.
Ghost nudged Ridge’s shoulder. “Thought you were taking it easy.”
“That was easy,” Ridge muttered.
Calder held his face, shaking, humiliation burning hotter than the pain. “You’re dead,” he hissed. “You hear me? All of you dead.”
Wheeler stepped forward. “You threatening kids now? Real impressive.”
Calder spat blood into the mud. “You don’t know who I run with?”
Ghost cracked his neck. “And you don’t know who he runs with,” he said, nodding at Hail. “Pretty sure you came to the wrong gas station.”
Calder staggered to his feet, breathing hard. “This isn’t over,” he said.
Hail’s voice dropped. “It is for tonight.”
Calder wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked at the girl one last time. Lena shrank behind the seat. Calder grinned through the blood. “See you soon, sweetheart.”
Ridge stepped toward him, but Hail lifted a hand. “Let him go.”
Calder climbed into his car, engine revving violently as he peeled out of the lot. Headlights vanished into the storm.
Emily burst into tears the moment they were gone—not sobs, but silent shaking, hands over her mouth.
Ridge opened the back door. Lena looked up at him, eyes huge, terrified, searching.
He didn’t smile. He didn’t crouch. He just said, “You’re safe for now.”
She swallowed. “You’re not letting him take me.”
Ridge shook his head once. “Not tonight. Not ever again.”
Lena blinked slowly. The same slow, deliberate blink from earlier. The one that wasn’t fear. It was trust.
Chapter 2: The Baptism by Asphalt
Hail looked down the highway where Calder disappeared. Rain pelting his jacket.
“He’ll bring others,” Hail said.
Ghost nodded. “He won’t come back alone.”
Wheeler cracked his knuckles. “Good. Let him bring whoever he thinks will help.”
Emily’s voice broke through. “What? What are you going to do?”
Hail turned to her. “Get you somewhere safe.”
Emily shook her head, tears streaking her face. “There’s no safe,” she whispered. “They’ll follow. They always follow.”
Hail crouched beside her window. “No,” he said quietly. “They follow the unwarned.”
Emily stared at him. Hail continued. “Tonight, they picked the wrong road.”
Ridge looked at the girl. “Pack your things,” he said softly. “We’re leaving.”
Lena stared at the rain, eyes wide, her heartbeat shaking her whole frame. She whispered, “Are you coming with us?”
Ridge nodded. “Yeah, kid. We’re riding with you.”
And something eased inside her. Something tiny, fragile, but real, like a fist finally unclenching.
Emily wiped her face. “But you don’t even know us.”
Ghost answered for them all. “We don’t need to.”
Hail lifted his chin toward the stormy highway. “Let’s get moving.”
The road waited, and behind them, the darkness waited back. The rain thickened as the bikers formed a loose perimeter around the dying sedan. Lightning flashed in the clouds, but didn’t touch the ground, as if even the storm knew better than to get too close to what was happening.
Hail signaled with a tilt of his chin. Subtle, but enough. Load them up.
Ridge stepped toward the sedan’s back door. Lena didn’t move at first. Her eyes darted from Hail to Ridge, then to the empty highway where Calder disappeared. Her breath refused to settle. She looked like she was waiting for someone to yank her backward.
Ridge crouched slightly. “You ride with me,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
She hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the seat like she needed something solid to hold onto.
Emily’s voice cracked from the front. “She’s never been on a motorcycle.”
Ridge shrugged—soft but steady. “Tonight’s her first time.”
Ghost smirked. “Baptism by asphalt.”
“Shut up,” Wheeler muttered, though he didn’t disagree.
Hail scanned the lot one more time. The shadows, the road, the tree line—twice. His hands didn’t shake, but something tightened behind his eyes. It had been a long time since a kid was involved. Too long.
Emily stepped out of the sedan, wrapping her arms around herself like she was afraid the night would tear her apart. “I… I don’t want to put you in danger,” she whispered.
Hail answered gently. “You didn’t. He did.”
That broke something in her. She pressed a hand to her forehead, grounding herself against the roof of the car.
Ridge offered Lena his hand. The girl stared at it, not mistrusting, not frightened—calculating, like she was measuring how much of her life she had left to gamble. A second passed, two, then she reached out and placed her hand in his. Small. Cold. Steadying.
Ridge lifted her gently, placing her on the bike in front of him. She tensed instantly, fingers gripping the tank as if the metal might disappear beneath her.
“Hey,” Ridge murmured, lowering his voice. “Lean back against me. You won’t fall.”
She didn’t move. Ridge gave her a moment, then she leaned just the slightest bit, enough to show she was trying.
Ghost loaded Emily onto Hail’s bike. Wheeler checked the straps on the spare helmet, though none of them used helmets in storms like this unless they needed anonymity. And tonight, anonymity mattered.
Hail pulled out his phone and tapped a message into the silent group thread. Rolling formation two. Keep eyes back.
Ghost’s bike growled. Wheeler mounted his own. Ridge adjusted his gloves, keeping one arm loosely around Lena so she wouldn’t tip.
The girl whispered. “How long? Till he finds us.”
Ridge answered without thinking. Quiet. Honest. “We won’t let him.”
She nodded, swallowing hard.
Hail revved his engine. The smell of wet exhaust rolled over the lot. The storm deepened.
Then they rode.
There was nothing cinematic about the first miles. Just rough wind, wet asphalt, and night pressing against all sides. Lena clung to the tank with both hands. She wasn’t shaking anymore. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t speaking. She was listening to the wind, to the engines, to Ridge’s breath behind her, to the road humming beneath them.
Whenever lightning lit the sky, her eyes flicked to every tree line, every shoulder, every passing car. She counted threats like she’d spent her entire life inside caution.
Emily rode behind Hail, arms tight around his waist. Her breathing stuttered each time headlights passed them. Hail didn’t comment, didn’t comfort. He just rode steady, giving her something unmoving to anchor to.
Ghost took rear guard. Wheeler flanked the right. Ridge and Lena rode center-left—close, but not too close.
Hail waited until they’d cleared three miles before slowing enough for voices to carry. “Talk to me,” Hail called back to Ghost.
Ghost’s voice answered through the rain. “Nobody behind us, but I got a bad feeling.”
Wheeler barked a humorless laugh. “You’re a biker in a storm carrying a hunted family. Of course, you have a bad feeling.”
Ghost didn’t laugh. “This one’s different.”
Ridge tightened his arm around Lena slightly, just enough to steady the bike as it hit a rough patch. “You okay?” he asked her.
She nodded, though Ridge could feel the tension in her shoulders. “You don’t have to talk,” he said. “Just breathe.”
“I am,” she whispered. “I just don’t want to fall.”
“You won’t.”
Lightning flashed again, white and violent. Lena’s fingers dug deeper into the tank.
Hail’s voice carried back through the wind. “Tell me about Calder.”
Silence from the mother. Silence long enough that Hail almost didn’t repeat the question.
Then Emily spoke, voice thin as paper. “He wasn’t supposed to find us.”
Wheeler scoffed. “People like that always do.”
Emily swallowed. “After Lena was born… After what he did… I tried leaving four times. He found us every time.”
Ghost muttered. “Stalker plus resources.”
Ridge felt Lena tense at that word. He lowered his voice. “You’re with us now. We don’t run from men like that.”
Lena’s voice trembled. “You don’t know him.”
Wheeler answered from the right side. “Kid, trust me, we know the type.”
Emily continued softly. “He was part of something organized. Men who think they own the world. Men who think a woman or a child is property.”
Ridge clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt.
Hail didn’t look back. “What’s the group?”
Emily hesitated. “They call themselves the Bound Circle.”
Ghost muttered a curse. Wheeler hissed through his teeth. Ridge went still.
Hail’s voice tightened. “How involved?”
Emily’s answer came slow. “Deep enough that leaving wasn’t allowed. Deep enough that taking Lena was a death sentence.”
Ridge exhaled sharply.
Lena’s voice was barely audible. “He said… he said I belonged to him because I existed.”
Ridge said nothing for a moment. Then, “No. You don’t belong to anyone.”
Lena leaned back into him. Small, instinctive, but real.
Hail raised his voice again. “Emily, how many men does Calder run with?”
Emily’s breath cracked. “Dozens.”
Ghost swore under his breath. Wheeler’s grip tightened on his handlebars. “Dozens meaning ten, or dozens meaning fifty?”
Emily swallowed. “He was never… never at the top. More like middle.”
Ridge felt his stomach drop.
Ghost’s voice hardened. “So someone higher up wants the kid.”
Emily whispered. “Yes.”
Hail didn’t curse. He didn’t shout. He just said: “Then we ride fast.”
Two more miles. Four. Seven. The storm swallowed everything behind them.
Lena finally spoke again. So quiet Ridge had to lean to hear. “Why are you helping us?”
Ridge thought about lying, telling her something comforting or heroic. Instead, he told the truth. “Because someone should have helped you sooner.”
She didn’t answer at first, then she whispered. “Thank you.”
A car’s headlights flashed behind them. Ghost stiffened. “I’ve got a tail.”
Hail’s voice sharpened. “Distance?”
Ghost checked again. “Half a mile. Gaining.”
Emily gasped, grabbing Hail’s jacket. Ridge felt Lena curl inward. “It’s them,” she whispered. “It has to be them.”
Hail signaled with two fingers. Ridge, Wheeler, and Ghost all shifted positions in a practiced, silent maneuver. A formation used when danger appeared behind them. A formation used when they were outnumbered. A formation used when a child was involved.
Hail accelerated. Ghost pulled back to block. Ridge tightened his grip on Lena as the road darkened further.
Wheeler muttered, “Here we go.”
And the car behind them sped up. Fast. Too fast.
Emily screamed. Lena’s small hand reached back. She found Ridge’s arm. She held on.
The storm swallowed the world whole. And the hunt began.
Part 2: The Fire and the Trap
Chapter 3: The Forest Trap and the First Stand
The car behind them surged forward like it had been waiting for this exact stretch of empty highway. No streetlights, no witnesses—just wet pavement and a storm loud enough to bury a scream.
Hail raised his hand in a sharp signal. Form tight. Keep them from splitting us.
The engines howled in unison as the group compressed into a staggered diamond. Ghost moved far back left. Wheeler took the far right. Ridge and Lena stayed center. And Hail led point with Emily gripping his jacket so hard her knuckles were white.
The pursuing car cut its headlights for a moment. A predator switching from stalking to striking.
“Damn it,” Wheeler muttered. “They’re not amateurs.”
Ghost’s voice came through the rain, low and clinical. “Two people inside, maybe three. Driver’s good. Keeps to the inside curve.”
Ridge lowered his center of gravity. One arm wrapped around Lena’s waist, steadying her. “You okay?” he asked, though he knew the answer.
Lena nodded, small and tight. “If I’m scared, will I fall?”
“No,” Ridge said. “I’ve got you.”
She leaned back slightly, enough to show she wanted to believe him, enough for Ridge to feel the tremor running through her spine.
The pursuing car flashed its brights. Once—a signal, not for them, but for someone ahead.
Hail saw it, too. “Eyes forward!” he barked.
Ghost scanned the horizon. “Nothing yet.”
“Keep looking,” Hail snapped. The wind devoured their words.
Lena stared into the night ahead. Her breathing had gone shallow again, but not from panic—from knowing. That kind of knowing only comes from kids who have lived in the dark too long.
Emily, behind Hail, finally spoke. “It won’t just be one car.”
Hail didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Ridge muttered. She’s right.
The storm hit everything except what it wanted to reveal. Lightning cracked overhead, revealing a second car far ahead on the opposite shoulder. Lights off. Waiting.
Ghost swore. “Roadblock. Small one. They’re corralling us.”
Wheeler added. “Hail revved harder. “Not today. We cut left. Forest access road, two miles.”
Ridge adjusted Lena. “Hold on tight, kid. Real tight.”
She didn’t argue. She wrapped both hands around his forearm, clinging like her pulse depended on his skin.
The pursuing car lunged forward again, this time closer. Too close. Its engine roared as it tried to clip Wheeler. Wheeler dodged, spraying water off the asphalt.
“That’s it,” he growled. “They want blood.”
Hail didn’t look back. Ghost reached into his vest pocket without hesitation, pulled out a metal canister, and slammed it against the side of his bike. The pin snapped free.
A second later, thick white smoke poured out behind him, swallowing the pursuing car in a billowing wall. The car swerved, tires screeching on wet pavement.
“Nice,” Wheeler muttered.
“Not done,” Ghost said.
The smoke cleared enough for them to see the car straighten out and keep coming.
Ridge whispered to Lena, “Look at me. Not them.” She didn’t. She kept looking forward with a strange, controlled rigidity, as if watching the danger hurt less than imagining it. Hail saw her posture and understood something important. This wasn’t a child who panicked. This was a child who braced. That was worse.
They hit the turn onto the forest access road. No signs, just a narrow slice of gravel and dirt that vanished into trees thick enough to swallow headlights whole. Hail slowed just enough for the group to enter without skidding.
Ghost brought up the rear, blocking the main road for a fraction of a second before peeling in after them.
The pursuing car tried to follow. Big mistake. Mud, narrow angles, trees too close. The car fishtailed, corrected, fishtailed again.
Ghost didn’t wait for it to recover. He kicked his bike sideways, threw a heavy chain into the car’s front wheel, and yanked hard. The chain snagged. The wheel locked. The car spun ninety degrees and slammed nose first into a ditch with a crunch that echoed through the forest.
Wheeler whooped. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
“Shut it,” Hail growled. “More ahead.”
Ridge felt Lena tense again. New threat. She whispered softly. Ridge blinked. “How do you know?”
“Because he always sends more,” she said.
Something inside Ridge twisted. “Not tonight. He doesn’t.”
The access road narrowed until it was barely a trail. Rain made the mud slick. Branches hung low enough to scrape leather and helmets. The engines strained as they climbed a shallow incline.
Emily whispered from behind Hail. “They’ll track the tire marks.”
“They’ll try,” Hail said. “Won’t catch.”
“And if they do?”
Hail’s jaw flexed. “Then they’ll wish they didn’t.”
Lena tugged lightly at Ridge’s jacket. “Why are you helping us?”
Ridge didn’t answer immediately. The truth: because he saw something familiar in her eyes, something he’d buried and thought he’d never look at again. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he said, “You asked if it was safe with us. It is, and we don’t break promises.”
Lena lowered her gaze. “You’re different from him.”
“Yeah,” Ridge whispered. “We are.”
Lightning cracked again, closer this time, lighting the forest like a battlefield snapshot. That’s when they saw it. A shape in the road ahead. Then another, then three. Dark vehicles parked nose-to-nose across the path.
Wheeler spat. “Roadblock number two.”
Hail slowed. Not stopped. Slowed.
Ghost whispered. “Three men, maybe four.”
Ridge leaned in. “Don’t let her see.”
But Lena had already seen. She stiffened, breath shaking. “That’s them,” she whispered. “That’s the others. He sends them when he’s angry.”
Ridge felt the cold crawl up his spine. Hail raised his hand. The group rolled to a stop twenty feet from the blockade. Rain hammered the metal roofs of the vehicles. Flashlights clicked on.
Four men stepped out. Heavy coats. Guns not hidden, but held casually like they expected no resistance.
One of them smiled a wide, crooked grin. “You boys lost?” he asked.
Wheeler growled. “Wrong night.”
Hail sat still, engine rumbling beneath him. Emily clutched him from behind. Ridge kept both arms around Lena now—not for control, but for shielding.
The crooked-grin man pointed his weapon loosely toward them. “We’re supposed to bring the girl back,” he said. “Alive if possible.”
Lena’s breath hitched. Emily whimpered.
Ghost stepped forward an inch. “Not happening.”
The man shrugged. “That’s fine. Boss said her mother’s negotiable.”
Emily’s sobs broke like glass. Ridge’s heartbeat turned into a weapon.
The man raised his chin. “We can do this easy.”
“No,” Hail said.
The man blinked. “What?”
Hail leaned forward slightly. “We’re done talking.”
The man grinned. “You really think—” He didn’t finish.
Ghost moved first. A flash, a burst of mud, a strike that sent one gun skidding across the road. Wheeler roared and charged the second man. Hail went straight for the third.
Ridge didn’t move. Not yet. He held Lena against him as the forest erupted in violence around them. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. She didn’t watch the attackers. She watched the bikers. Every hit, every fall, every choice.
Her voice trembled as she whispered into Ridge’s jacket. “You’re… You’re not like them at all.”
Ridge didn’t answer. He tightened his grip around her, shielding her from everything he could, and the fight raged on in the storm-drenched dark.
Chapter 4: The Sniper and the Promise Kept
Rain turned the forest floor into a slick, shifting mess of mud, leaves, and broken branches. Gunshots popped like someone cracking ice with a hammer. The trees swallowed most of the sound, but the violence still pulsed through the dark like a heartbeat.
Ridge didn’t move from where he sheltered Lena. Not until he knew the direction of every threat. Not until he knew where every muzzle flash came from.
Ghost hit the first attacker with a force that folded the man sideways into the mud. Hail barreled straight into the second, wrenching the rifle from his hands and smashing the butt of it across his jaw. The crooked-grin man stumbled backward, firing blindly into the trees. Wheeler tackled him low, dragging him into a ditch, both of them rolling in a violent tangle of limbs and soaked earth.
Emily pressed her face into Hail’s back, covering her ears. She whispered over and over, “Don’t let them take her. Don’t let them take her.”
Ridge lowered his head, voice quiet but certain. “They’re not getting past us.”
Lena didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just watched—small, tense, eyes alert. Every angle, every movement, every breath of danger. She didn’t blink until Ridge gently put a hand over her shoulder, forcing her gaze down. “You don’t have to see this.”
She shook her head once. “I’ve seen worse.”
Those words carved something out of Ridge’s chest. “Not anymore,” he said.
A shot cracked from the left. Ghost ducked behind a tree. The bullet splintered bark inches from his head. “Sniper!” he shouted.
Hail immediately turned, scanning the tree line. The rain made everything a blur. Shadows moved where shadows shouldn’t. Wheeler pinned his opponent’s wrist, forcing the gun down into the mud as they fought for control.
Ridge lifted his head long enough to track the sniper’s location. One trunk, fifteen yards, elevated angle. He tucked Lena closer. “Stay behind me. Don’t move.”
She nodded, gripping the edges of his jacket.
Ghost broke toward the left, weaving between trees, daring the sniper to fire again. Hail followed, covering him from below. The crooked-grin man lunged for a fallen pistol, but Wheeler slammed his elbow into the man’s throat.
Ridge’s pulse beat like a drum against Lena’s back. Another shot. This one aimed for the bikes. Metal sparked as the bullet ricocheted off Hail’s handlebars.
Ghost snarled. “He’s trying to disable us. They want us trapped.”
Hail’s voice cut through the storm. “Then take him out.”
Ridge wanted to go. His body buzzed with the need to move, but Lena’s small hands clung to him, trusting him with everything she had left. He couldn’t leave her exposed.
“Wheeler!” Ridge shouted. “Cover the girl!”
Wheeler kicked the crooked-grin man aside and sprinted toward them. He grabbed a discarded rifle off the ground, chambered it, and slid into position behind a fallen tree. “I got you,” he growled. “Go.”
Ridge rose, muscles coiled, rain dripping off his jaw. For a split second, Lena reached for him. “Don’t,” she whispered.
Ridge pressed the top of her head lightly. An anchor, a promise. “I’ll be right back. Keep low.”
She nodded, breathing fast, but controlled.
Ridge sprinted into the trees, boots slicing through mud. He didn’t move like a biker now. He moved like someone who’d learned to fight long before he learned to ride.
Ghost pointed from cover. “Up there. Three o’clock, third pine.”
Ridge slid behind a trunk, peeked, and caught the glint of metal high on a branch. The sniper saw the movement and fired. The round tore bark inches from Ridge’s face, sending splinters across his cheek.
Ghost burst out of cover, drawing fire. Hail closed in from the side. Ridge watched the pattern. Three rounds, one-second reset, reposition. He whispered, “He’s reloading.”
Ridge dashed forward, grabbing a broken branch off the ground. Not a weapon, a tool. He hurled it into the foliage just ahead of him. The sniper fired at the noise.
Ridge leapt around the opposite side, grabbed the tree’s low branches, and hauled himself up. His boots slipped on the wet bark, but adrenaline drove him. The sniper spotted him mid-climb, and twisted his rifle down—too slow.
Ridge launched upward, grabbed the barrel with both hands, and shoved it aside. The rifle discharged harmlessly into the sky. The sniper struggled, elbowing Ridge in the ribs, but Ridge wrapped one arm around the man’s waist and yanked him out of the tree.
Both fell. The sniper hit the ground first, a hard grunt leaving him breathless. Ridge landed on an elbow, pain streaking up his arm, but he stayed on top. Ghost reached them a moment later and slammed his boot onto the rifle.
Hail grabbed the sniper by the collar and dragged him upright. “Who sent you?” Hail demanded.
The man coughed, spitting rainwater and blood. “You think you can stop this?” he rasped. “She’s marked. They don’t stop till they get what they paid for.”
Ridge’s fist clenched so tightly his knuckles popped. He leaned in. “What the hell does that mean? Marked how?”
The sniper grinned with cracked teeth. “You’ll see.”
Hail punched him once, hard. The man crumpled into the mud.
“We’re done here,” Hail said. “We need to move.”
Wheeler jogged toward them. “We okay?”
Ridge wiped the blood off his cheek. “Yeah.”
“Kid?” Wheeler asked.
Ridge turned. Lena was still exactly where he left her, kneeling behind the log, rain soaking her hoodie, eyes locked on him. She hadn’t moved an inch. The second she saw him, she exhaled. Sharp, shaky relief.
Ridge went to her, kneeling in front of her. “You okay?”
She nodded, but her voice trembled. “You came back.”
“Always,” Ridge said.
Emily rushed to them, shaking violently. She pulled Lena into her arms, whispering her name over and over. Lena didn’t hug back. She kept looking at Ridge.
Ghost checked the bodies, grabbing ammo and kicking weapons into the mud. Wheeler wiped rain from his brow.
Hail walked up, eyeing the forest behind them. “This wasn’t their main team,” he said. “This was a net.”
Ridge frowned. “A net?”
“Yeah,” Hail said. “They’re pushing us somewhere.”
Emily’s breath hitched. “No, no, no, please. There can’t be more.”
Lena tugged Ridge’s sleeve. “He doesn’t stop,” she whispered. “He never stops. He keeps coming until—until—”
Ridge placed a hand on her shoulder. “Not this time.”
The forest snapped with distant branches. Hail’s head shot up. Wheeler lifted his rifle. “You hear that?”
Ghost nodded. “Engines.”
Ridge’s stomach dropped. Not one engine. Not two. Dozens. A slow, organized rumble approaching through the trees. Too steady. Too synchronized.
Hail’s voice lowered to something cold and certain. “They’re not hunting anymore.”
Ghost tightened his grip on his chain. “They’re coming.”
Ridge pulled Lena close, shielding her from the dark ahead. Wheeler snarled. “So, what’s the plan?”
Hail looked down the narrow path where the sound grew louder. “We move.” He pointed toward the deeper forest. “No roads, no trails. Off-road.”
Wheeler blinked. “What? Through the woods?”
“Yeah,” Hail said. “Through the woods.”
Ghost raised a brow. “With kids.”
Hail’s expression didn’t waver. “Yes, with kids.”
The rain thickened into a curtain. The engines drew closer. Men coming to claim what they believed belonged to them.
Ridge picked Lena up with one arm. “Hold on to me. Don’t look back.”
She nodded, clutching his jacket with small, trembling fingers. Emily staggered as Hail helped her toward the trees.
Ghost whispered, “This is going to get bad.”
Hail answered. “It already is.”
And together, bikers, mother, and child, they vanished into the dripping black ink woods. As the enemy engines roared closer, the forest swallowed them whole.
Part 2: The Fire and the Trap
Chapter 5: The Silent Stalk and the Broken Ankle Terrain
No moonlight, no trail, no mercy.
Branches slapped against jackets and helmets. Roots twisted under boots. Mud sucked at every step like it wanted to keep them there. Rain funneled through the canopy in thin, stabbing lines. Behind them, the engines grew louder.
Ridge carried Lena tight against his chest, one arm locked under her legs, the other protecting her head from branches. She didn’t cry. She didn’t ask questions. She curled into him and listened to his heartbeat like it was the only thing still steady in the world.
Hail pushed Emily forward, guiding her between trees, his hand never leaving her back. Ghost scouted ahead, moving through the brush with quiet precision, eyes sharp and unblinking despite the rain stinging them. Wheeler took the rear, rifle slung over his shoulder, turning every three steps to check the darkness behind them.
The engines rumbled closer, organized, controlled, like synchronized hunting calls.
“Speed up,” Hail whispered.
Emily stumbled over a fallen branch, nearly collapsing. “Please, please, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Hail said, catching her by the arm. “You walk or you die. I’m not letting you die.” She nodded through tears, forcing herself forward.
Lena whispered into Ridge’s shoulder. “They know the forest. He used to talk about places like this.”
Ridge tightened his grip. “We’ll get you out.”
“He said the woods were perfect for losing people… or finding them.”
Ridge felt his jaw lock. Hail’s voice cut through the rain. “Ghost, talk to me.”
Ghost raised one hand without turning. “Shortest path out is north, but the terrain’s rougher.”
“Rougher? How?” Wheeler asked.
Ghost stepped over a fallen trunk. “Like broken-ankle rough.”
Wheeler grinned without humor. “Great.”
The engines behind them revved again, closer now, only a couple hundred yards back, echoing through the ravines. Emily flinched. “They’re spreading out. They’re cutting us off.”
Ghost didn’t argue. “They are.”
Ridge glanced at Hail. “What’s the play?”
Hail’s eyes flicked through the shadows ahead. “We keep moving. Make distance. They won’t risk the dark as fast as we can.”
Wheeler raised a brow. “You sure about that?”
Hail didn’t respond. Because he wasn’t.
They pressed deeper into the forest. The smell of wet pine thickened. Mud sucked harder with every step. Wind shifted, blowing rain sideways.
Ghost slowed suddenly, raising a fist. Everyone froze. Ridge shifted Lena’s weight, bracing. Emily clung to Hail’s jacket. Wheeler crouched behind a stump, breathing quietly.
Ghost listened. For a full five seconds, the world was nothing but rain, breathing, and the distant rumble of engines.
Then another sound, crunching—not behind them, ahead. Someone else was in the trees.
Hail cursed under his breath. “They cut us off.”
Ghost pointed left. “We go downhill.”
Emily shook her head frantically. “No, there’s a creek down there. Deep, fast.”
Hail tightened his grip on her arm. “Better than gunfire.”
They shifted left, boots sliding down a slope slick enough to break bones. Ridge adjusted his stance, making sure Lena felt none of the stumbles. She wrapped both arms around his neck.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered to him.
“That’s called being cold,” Ridge replied.
“No,” Lena murmured. “That’s called being scared for someone.”
Her words hit him like a blade under the ribs. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Branches snapped somewhere ahead. Wheeler raised the rifle. Ghost signaled for silence. They crouched behind a fallen cedar, breath fogging in the cold.
Two flashlights flickered between trees, then stopped. Voices, men speaking in rough, low tones, searching. Emily’s breath stuttered. Lena buried her face in Ridge’s jacket.
Hail pressed a hand against Emily’s back to keep her from bolting. Wheeler mouthed, “Two!” Ghost shook his head. “Three, maybe four.”
The flashlight swayed closer. Hail tapped Ridge’s arm—signal for stillness. Ridge knelt slowly, keeping Lena tucked under his jacket like he could fold the world around her.
The flashlight swept the undergrowth and stopped inches from Ridge’s boot. Lena froze. Emily clamped a hand over her mouth. The beam hovered. Wheeler tightened his finger on the trigger.
The flashlight moved on. Hail exhaled, barely.
The men spoke again, their voices drifting. “Boss wants the girl alive. Doesn’t care about the mother. Don’t shoot unless she tries to run.”
Ridge’s grip tightened on Lena. She whispered. “That’s them. That’s the men he brings when he’s angry.”
Ridge whispered back. “We’ll handle them.”
They waited until the flashlights moved deeper into the trees before rising again. “Keep going,” Hail ordered. “Slow, quiet.”
They continued down the slope until the sound of water grew louder. A rushing, fast-moving current cutting through the forest. Emily grabbed Hail’s sleeve. “It’s not safe.”
“Neither is stopping,” Hail replied.
Ghost tested a fallen log across the creek—rotted, barely holding. Wheeler scoffed. “We’re going to fall in.”
Ridge scanned the bank. “We cross in threes. I’ll take Lena.”
Hail nodded. “Ghost, you go first.”
Ghost crossed with calculated movements, balancing like a predator on a narrow rail. He reached the other side and motioned for the rest.
Ridge stepped onto the log with Lena held against him. She clung to his shirt, eyes squeezed shut. “Look at me,” Ridge whispered. “Not the water.” She forced her eyes open. They locked on his face. “There you go,” he murmured. “Just keep looking right here.”
Halfway across, the log sagged under his weight. Wheeler swore. “Careful!”
Ridge shifted his stance, boots gripping the slick wood. Lena swallowed. “You… You won’t drop me.”
“Never.” He made it across. Ghost steadied them when their boots hit the mud.
Next, Emily crossed with Hail, trembling so violently her knees buckled halfway. Hail gripped her waist, guiding her step by step, refusing to let her fall.
Then, Wheeler. Halfway across, the log cracked. Ridge shouted, “Move!” Wheeler leapt the last few feet as the log snapped and vanished into the torrent. The sound echoed like a warning shot.
Ghost muttered, “We’re running out of luck.”
Hail scanned the tree line. He stiffened. Ridge followed his gaze up the slope. Figures, flashlights, guns. Lena’s breath hitched. “They found us.”
Hail grabbed Emily. “Run.” Ghost grabbed Ridge’s jacket. “Downstream trail.” Wheeler raised the rifle. “I’ll cover.”
Hail shook his head. “No firefight. Not with the kid.”
Ridge lifted Lena again. “Hold tight.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her heartbeat thudding against his chest.
Then they ran.
Branches tore at their jackets. Mud splashed to their knees. The roar of the creek stayed beside them as they followed the water’s edge. Shouts rang from behind. Footsteps started pouring down the slope.
Wheeler snarled, “They’re damn close.”
Ghost yanked back a branch to clear a passage. Hail held Emily upright as she stumbled over roots. Ridge kept Lena pressed against him, one arm protecting her head as trees blurred around them.
Then a crack—not gunfire, wood. A tree half-split by lightning earlier, groaned as the storm battered it one last time. Ghost looked up. “Oh, hell. Move.”
The trees snapped and crashed down behind them, smashing into the slope and blocking half the trail. Earth shook. Mud sprayed across their backs.
Wheeler turned. “That’ll slow them.”
Hail didn’t look back. “Not enough.”
Emily gasped. “Where are we going?”
Hail pointed ahead. “A ranger road. Another mile. If we hit that, we can circle north.”
And a bullet sliced through the air past Hail’s shoulder. Emily screamed. Wheeler fired a warning shot into the trees. Ghost cursed. “They’re in range.”
Lena gripped Ridge tighter. “They’re going to catch us.”
“No,” Ridge said. “They won’t.”
“How do you know?”
Ridge ran harder, lungs burning. He didn’t say the real answer. He said, “Because I won’t let them.”
They burst through a thicket, the trees thinned, rain hit harder. Ghost pointed. “There. Road.” A narrow gravel path cut through the forest ahead.
Hail didn’t slow. They sprinted toward it, but when they reached the clearing, three vehicles were already there, headlights on, engines running. Men waiting.
Lena’s nails dug into Ridge’s shoulder. Emily collapsed to her knees. Wheeler snarled. “You got to be kidding me.”
Ghost whispered. “They boxed us in.”
Hail stepped in front of Emily and Lena, breath heavy, voice steady. “Everyone behind me.”
Ridge shifted Lena behind his arm. The men in front stepped out of their vehicles. One of them smirked like Calder had taught him. “We told you,” he said. “The girl’s marked.”
Lena buried her face against Ridge. Ridge’s voice dropped to something dark, quiet, and final. “You’re not touching her.”
The man cocked his head. “You think you can stop us?”
Hail’s hand tightened around the wrench he’d carried since the gas station. Ghost cracked his neck. Wheeler steadied his rifle. The rain fell harder. Engines rumbled behind them.
The dark closed in. And the circle tightened.
Chapter 6: The Cavalry on the Ridge
For a moment, the whole forest held its breath. Rain hissed against hot engines. Headlights cut thin columns through the downpour, turning every drop into falling shards of glass. The men blocking the gravel road stood still, too still, like predators waiting for prey to tire itself out.
Hail lifted his chin a fraction. “Ridge, keep the girl close.”
Ridge didn’t answer. He already had Lena behind his left leg, one arm slightly extended, his stance angled so he could move whichever direction the danger broke from. Lena’s fingers curled into the back of his jacket. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t shaking. She was bracing.
Across the clearing, the lead man, a tall, narrow-faced bastard with a wet cigarette stuck to his lip, grinned. “You boys look tired,” he said. “Should have handed her over when you had the chance.”
Wheeler spat into the mud. “Should have minded your own business.”
The man laughed. “This is our business. She belongs to us.”
Lena pressed her forehead into Ridge’s back.
Ghost stepped forward half a foot. “Say that again.”
The man shrugged. “Not to me. To the Circle.”
Emily choked on her breath. “No, please stop. It’s my fault! Just take me. Leave her.”
The man’s eyes slid past Hail to her. “You’re not the one they want.”
Emily collapsed, gripping her shirt over her heart as if she could hold it together by force.
Hail leaned slightly toward Ghost. “How many?”
Ghost’s eyes moved like a scanner, cold and methodical. “Seven in front, two inside that left truck. Could be more in the dark.”
Wheeler muttered. “And we’re on foot.”
“Great.” Hail didn’t respond. He scanned the ground, the spacing of trees, the angles of headlights, calculating.
The lead man called out, “You’ve got ten seconds to walk away.”
Wheeler laughed under his breath. “This clown’s got jokes.”
Ridge didn’t move. He didn’t blink. His whole body thrummed with contained violence. Every nerve tuned to Lena’s breathing behind him.
The man raised his voice. “Three seconds left!”
Hail said quietly. “Two.”
Ghost pulled a length of chain from his belt. Wheeler chambered his rifle.
The lead man raised his hand. “Light him up!”
Two things happened at once. Headlights flared to full brightness and men started firing, but Hail moved first. He shoved Emily down and dove left, a wrench arcing like a thrown comet. It struck one gunman in the temple, dropping him instantly.
Ghost charged the right flank with the chain spinning overhead, deflecting bullets off the metal with brutal precision. Wheeler fired low, hitting one man in the thigh, sending him sprawling.
Ridge grabbed Lena, pivoted, and shielded her as he backed toward the nearest tree. “Keep your head down,” he whispered. She buried herself against him.
Bullets chewed into the bark where Ridge had been standing seconds earlier. Mud exploded around their boots.
The lead man shouted, “Don’t hit the kid! Don’t hit the damn kid!”
Ridge snarled. “She’s not a target. She’s a trophy to you.”
The man grinned. “Trophies pay.” Ridge’s stomach turned cold.
A gunman rushed him from the side. Ridge pressed Lena behind the tree, swung wide, and drove his elbow into the man’s throat. The gunman gagged, stumbled, and Ridge ripped the gun out of his hands before slamming him into the trunk.
Lena peeked out as Ridge stepped in front of her again. “No,” Ridge said. “Stay low.” She ducked again, small hands covering her ears.
Ghost’s chain cracked like thunder, wrapping around another man’s wrist and yanking him off his feet. Wheeler pinned a third attacker behind a stump, firing warning shots until the man dropped his weapon.
But more were coming. Hail tackled one of them straight into the mud. They rolled, punching, grabbing, choking for leverage. Hail slammed his forehead into the man’s jaw, stunning him long enough to wrench his gun free. Emily crawled behind a log, shaking violently, whispering prayers that dissolved into sobs.
Ridge kept moving, positioning himself between Lena and every muzzle flash. “Ridge,” she whispered, voice tiny.
“Not now, kid.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know,” Ridge said. “I’m shaking.” He didn’t deny it.
Another gunman charged from behind a truck, firing in short bursts. Ridge shoved Lena flat against the mud and threw himself sideways. Bullets tore through ferns, kicking dirt into his face.
Ghost shouted, “Left flank!”
Wheeler swung around and fired toward the left, clipping the truck’s mirror and forcing the shooter to duck.
The lead man barked, “Stop playing with them. Move in!”
But then something unexpected. A crack. A sharp, metallic whine. His truck’s tire blew out.
All heads snapped toward the forest line.
Another shot, clean, precise, hit the second vehicle’s windshield. Hail froze. “Who the hell?”
Ghost ducked behind a tree. “That wasn’t us.”
Wheeler looked around wildly. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”
Another shot came from high above the slope, controlled, measured. The bullet struck the gravel right between two gunmen’s boots, making them jump back.
The lead man shouted into the trees, “Identify yourself!”
No answer, just wind, rain, and then a silhouette appeared on the ridge. No bike, no lights—just a figure holding a long rifle, half concealed by branches in the rain.
Ridge stiffened. “What the—”
The man called down without raising his voice. “That girl’s under our protection.”
Ghost whispered. “Is that Mason?”
Wheeler’s jaw dropped. “No way. He was two states over.”
The figure chambered another round. “You boys really thought you were the only ones listening when Hail sent that message?”
Ridge blinked hard. Hail exhaled in disbelief. “It’s him.”
Mason stepped fully into the rain. Rifle aimed down at the clearing, eyes cold as riverstone. “You hunt kids on our road,” he called out. “Bad move.”
The lead man shouted back. “You don’t know who you’re messing with!”
Mason fired. The bullet tore through the man’s sleeve, forcing him backward. “I know enough.”
Below, Ghost grinned wildly. “Oh, this is going to get fun.”
Wheeler roared. “Backup’s here!”
Hail stood, dripping rain, blood smearing his cheek. “All riders, press forward!”
Ridge stood tall, shielding Lena as he moved. She whispered. “Who is that?”
Ridge breathed. “A man who hates these guys as much as we do.”
Mason fired again. Another gunman fell. The Circle’s formation broke. Their confidence shattered. Some dove behind vehicles. Others tried to run deeper into the forest.
“Ridge!” Ghost shouted. “Move the kid!”
Ridge scooped Lena into his arms. “Hold on.” She wrapped her arms around his neck instantly.
Hail advanced toward the lead man, who stumbled backward, gun shaking. “You think this ends with you?” Hail growled.
“You can’t win!” the man sputtered.
Hail closed the distance, grabbed the man’s coat, and slammed him against the truck. “You came into our woods,” Hail said. “You picked the wrong family.”
Behind him, Mason’s riders began arriving along the ridge. Dark shapes, engines low, forming a second ring behind the Circle men. Lena looked over Ridge’s shoulder at the scene. Her voice shook. “They’re helping us.”
Ridge nodded. “Yeah, kid. You’re not alone anymore.”
The lead man screamed as Wheeler dragged him into the mud. Ghost handcuffed another. Mason walked down the slope like the storm parted for him. Emily sobbed in relief against Hail’s shoulder.
Ridge knelt, setting Lena on her feet. “You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, but her eyes were locked on Mason, on the riders, on all the men who chose to stand for her.
“I thought no one would ever come,” she whispered.
Ridge brushed wet hair from her face with the back of his hand. “Someone always comes,” he said softly. “Sometimes late, but they come.”
Lena swallowed hard. Her next words came out tiny and trembling. “Then why did it take this long?”
Ridge didn’t answer because he didn’t have one.
Hail stepped forward, voice low and grim. “This was just the retrieval team.”
Ghost’s jaw tightened. “You think Calder isn’t coming?”
Hail shook his head. “He’s coming.”
Wheeler loaded a fresh magazine. “Then we get ready.”
Mason looked at Hail. “You got the girl?”
Hail nodded. Mason lifted his rifle, rain sliding down the barrel. “Good,” he said, “because tonight’s only the beginning.”
Lena stared up at Ridge. Her voice broke. “Will you stay with me?”
Ridge swallowed, then nodded once. “Yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”
The storm shifted. The forest hushed. The Circle scattered, and the real fight, the one none of them had yet seen, moved one mile closer. The clearing didn’t feel like victory. It felt like a warning.
Chapter 7: The Final Corner and the Circle’s Trap
The clearing didn’t feel like victory. It felt like a warning. Steam rose from hot rifle barrels into the rain. Mud sucked at boots. The forest swallowed the groans of the wounded men on the ground. Mason’s riders, silent shapes under dripping branches, spread out in a perimeter, engines idling low like restless animals.
Ridge knelt beside Lena again, one knee sinking into the wet earth. “You hurt anywhere?” he asked. She shook her head, but her eyes stayed on the bodies, on the men who came for her, on the guns. She wasn’t frozen or panicked. She was watching the world like someone who’d spent years waiting for it to fall apart.
Emily stumbled toward her child, collapsing to her knees. “Lena, baby, come here.”
Lena didn’t run to her. She didn’t move until Ridge gently nudged her shoulder. “Go,” he whispered. “She needs you.”
Lena hesitated only a moment before climbing into her mother’s shaking arms. Emily buried her face into her daughter’s hair, sobbing so hard her whole frame trembled. Lena held her, but her eyes kept flicking back to Ridge, as if checking he was still there.
Hail stood a few feet away, watching everything, chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. His knuckles were scraped raw. Rain darkened the blood until it ran down his wrists in thin pink lines.
Mason joined him, rifle slung over his shoulder, boots sinking deep into the mud. “You look like hell,” Mason said.
Hail exhaled through his nose. “Feel like it.”
Mason scanned the knocked-out Circle operatives. “Small unit,” he said. “Cut-off team meant to spook you out of cover. Didn’t work.”
“That’s the problem. They’re not operating alone tonight. Someone gave them coordination.”
Emily froze mid-sob. “What? What do you mean? He’s always the one. He’s the one who—”
Mason knelt in front of her. “Lady,” he said softly. “Calder’s a messenger boy. Nothing more. The Circle uses men like him to do the dirty work. He follows orders.”
Emily’s face went pale. “Then who wants my daughter?”
Mason didn’t answer. Ridge did. “Someone higher.”
Lena pressed into her mother’s chest, whispering something Ridge couldn’t hear.
Hail rubbed a hand across his beard. “We need out of this forest. They’re regrouping.”
Ghost walked up, boots dripping, chain coiled around his forearm like a steel serpent. “Seen movement on the ridge behind us,” he said. “Small signals. Maybe scouts. They’re watching.”
Wheeler cursed under his breath. “So what? We’re rats in a box now.”
“No,” Mason said calmly. “We’re the ones with options.”
Hail shot him a skeptical glance. “What options?”
Mason pointed into the deeper forest. “There’s an old fire road off this gravel path,” he said. “Unmarked. Runs parallel to the highway for about six miles. It’s abandoned, washed out, forgotten. No engines can follow through the whole length.”
Ridge frowned. “But we’re on foot.”
Mason nodded. “And that’s good. We’re quieter than they expect. They’ll assume we make for open road. They’ll aim wrong.”
Ghost muttered. “And what’s waiting at the end?”
Mason’s voice dropped. “Our people.”
Hail breathed out tension he’d been holding since the gas station. “You brought the chapter.”
“Some of them,” Mason said. “Enough.”
Wheeler grinned. “I knew you’d show.”
Mason shrugged. “You idiots pick fights with half the state. Somebody’s got to babysit.”
Ghost snorted. “Says the man with a sniper nest in a tree.”
Emily wiped her face, voice trembling. “What? What do we do?”
Hail turned to her, steady, grounded. “You stay between us. Lena stays with Ridge. We move fast, stay low, and don’t stop unless I say.”
Emily nodded, clutching Lena closer. Ridge crouched in front of the girl again. “Lena.” She lifted her chin. “You ready to walk?”
She stared at him, breathing jittery little breaths. Then she whispered. “Only if you don’t leave.”
Ridge felt something shift in his chest. Not a break, not a crack, but a slowing, a grounding. “I won’t,” he said.
She nodded, trusting him so fully it hurt.
Hail raised his hand. “Let’s move.”
The fire road was more suggestion than path. Mud pulled in pits big enough to swallow a leg. Roots tore up the earth like knuckles breaking through skin. The trees leaned inward, forming a dark corridor that felt like a tunnel carved by storms.
Ridge kept Lena’s hand in his. Sometimes she stumbled, but she never let go. Emily tripped twice. Hail caught her both times. Ghost moved ahead, scanning with a predator’s focus. Wheeler stayed behind, rifle low and ready. Mason and two riders flanked the group with silent discipline.
The rain softened into a mist, but the cold deepened. Every breath puffed white.
Lena’s voice was small. “Why do they want me?”
Ridge slowed a half step. “We don’t know yet.”
“Are they angry at me?”
“No.”
“Are they angry at Mom?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Ridge didn’t want to answer, but he didn’t lie. “Because some people believe they own things they don’t.”
Lena’s small fingers tightened. “Do you think they’ll stop if we run far enough?”
Ridge thought of the engines, the men, the traps laid across miles, the precision. “No,” he said softly. “I think they stop when we make them stop.”
Lena looked down at her shoes, soaked and caked with mud. “But I’m just little.”
Ridge stopped walking. Kneeling, he lifted her chin with two fingers. “You’re not little to us.” Her eyes shimmered. She swallowed one tight sob.
Ahead, Mason lifted a hand. “Lights off,” he whispered.
Ghost killed his flashlight instantly. Wheeler killed his. The forest turned black. Ridge lifted Lena into his arms again, feeling her curl into him instinctively.
“What’s wrong?” Hail asked.
Mason pointed down the slope. Through the trees, faint orange glows flickered like lanterns swinging. Emily gasped quietly. “Who?”
Mason shook his head. “Not ours. Scouts? Maybe fifteen, maybe more.”
“Looking for us?” Ghost asked.
“Or waiting for us,” Mason said. “Either way, they’re forming a line.”
Hail’s voice dropped. “We can’t go around them.”
“Not without being seen,” Mason said.
Emily’s breath stuttered. “What do we do?”
Hail looked at Ridge, then at Mason. Then back toward the darkness. “We go quiet,” he said. “We go slow.”
Wheeler whispered. “And if they spot us?”
Hail answered without hesitation. “Then we take the hit and give the kid time to run.”
Ridge’s whole body tensed. “No,” he growled. “We don’t leave anyone.”
Hail held his gaze. “You’d rather lose everyone?”
Ridge stepped forward, voice low. “If it comes to it, she runs with me.” Lena pressed her face into his neck.
Emily’s voice broke. “Please, please don’t let them take her.”
Ridge didn’t look away from Hail. “I won’t.”
Ghost moved to Ridge’s side. “Neither will I.”
Wheeler grunted. “You think we came this far to let some rich psychopath steal a kid? Hell no.”
Mason nodded. “I’ll drop ten before they touch one hair on her head.”
The rain faded to a whisper. The forest went still. Somewhere far ahead, a whistle echoed softly. A signal. Ridge’s heartbeat spiked.
Lena’s fingers dug into his jacket. “They’re calling each other,” she whispered. “He taught them that sound. It means circle in.”
Hail’s face darkened. “Then we don’t have much time.”
He turned, voice low but fierce. “Everyone move.”
And with Lena clinging to Ridge, Emily leaning on Hail, and the rest of the riders tightening into a silent formation, they stepped deeper into the forest toward the waiting line of men who refused to stop.
Chapter 8: The Price of the Promise
The fire road narrowed until it was barely a suggestion in the mud. Nothing but two fading ruts cut by forgotten trucks years ago. The trees leaned in closer, trunks thick as pillars, branches heavy with rain. Every step felt like a trespass into a place the forest itself didn’t want them to go.
Mason raised two fingers, signal to slow. Ghost crouched, touching the ground. “Tracks. Fresh, maybe five minutes old.”
Wheeler checked behind them. “Nothing yet, but they’re out there.”
“They’re circling,” Hail said quietly, “trying to funnel us.”
Emily clung to his arm to keep her balance. Her breath fogged in front of her, shallow and panicked. “Are we close?” she whispered.
Mason nodded toward the dark. “Another mile, maybe less.”
Emily’s knees nearly buckled with relief. But Lena didn’t look relieved. She looked alert. Her eyes fixed on the gaps between the trees, watching shapes that weren’t quite shapes, shadows that didn’t quite move. Ridge kept a hand on her shoulder, steady, warm, grounding.
“What do you see?” he whispered.
Lena swallowed. “He used to tell them, the ones he trained: if you hunt someone scared, don’t rush. Make them hear you first.”
Ridge frowned. “Hear them how?”
Lena raised her hand slightly, pointing toward the trees. At first, Ridge heard nothing but rain. Then, soft taps, spaced apart. Unnatural. Click, pause, click, pause.
Wheeler heard it, too. “Oh, hell. That’s a Q pattern.”
Mason’s face hardened. “They’re closing the circle.”
Emily covered her mouth. “Please, please, no!”
Hail whispered. “They want us to break formation.”
Ghost scanned the tree line. “Tighten in. Everyone close.”
Ridge lifted Lena again without warning. She gasped and clung to him instantly, arms locking around his neck. “You okay?” he asked. She nodded, but her forehead pressed into his collarbone like she was trying to disappear inside him. He held her tighter.
Ahead, the path curved left, following the creek from earlier, now roaring louder as the terrain dropped. The air grew cold and sharp.
Ghost raised his fist. Another stop signal. Everyone froze.
Mason lowered himself behind a fallen trunk and squinted into the dark. “There,” he whispered. “On the ridge.”
Hail followed his line of sight. Three silhouettes, perfectly still. Rifles slung low, pointed downward—not aiming, but watching. Waiting.
Emily whimpered. Lena turned her face into Ridge’s jacket.
Ghost whispered, “They know we’re here. They’re waiting for someone.”
Hail exhaled slowly. “Calder.”
Ridge felt Lena shiver when she heard that name. Wheeler stepped closer, voice low. “You really think he’s out here?”
Ridge didn’t look up from Lena. “Oh, he’s here.”
Mason motioned for movement, but slower now, quieter. One step at a time, he whispered. No sudden noise. They crept forward. Five feet. Ten. Fifteen.
Then a whistle cut through the woods. High, sharp, closer.
Lena’s fingers dug into Ridge’s shoulder. “That one,” she whispered. “That’s him. He taught them that sound.”
Ridge froze. Her voice wasn’t afraid. It was remembering. Mason hissed. “Positions.”
Hail grabbed Emily and pulled her behind a boulder. Ghost flanked left, chain wrapped tight around his fist. Wheeler took a knee, rifle steady. Ridge pressed Lena against his chest and knelt behind a thick cedar trunk.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
“I can’t,” she whispered back. “He taught me to listen.”
“It’s okay,” Ridge murmured. “You’re not with him now.” She nodded, but her breathing stayed fast, shallow, haunted.
More whistles, this time to the right, then behind. The forest answered like a pack. Emily grabbed Hail’s sleeve. “They’re toying with us. Oh God, they’re toying.”
Hail held her steady. “Stay down.”
A crunch came from the ridge above them. Then a voice—smooth, satisfied, and too close. “You ran far, Em. Farther than usual.”
Emily gasped, eyes wide with terror. Lena’s nails dug into Ridge’s skin through his jacket.
The voice drifted between the trees like smoke. “And I see you brought help this time.”
Mason’s rifle trained on Calder’s head. “Move one inch,” Mason warned. “And I drop you.”
Calder didn’t blink. “You shoot, my men fire. Your people get torn apart.”
As if on cue, ten beams of light snapped on in the trees. Front, left, right, behind. A perfect ring.
Emily screamed. Lena pressed her face into Ridge’s back. Hail whispered, “Don’t fire unless they do.”
Mason snarled. “We’re not boxed in. Not yet.”
Wheeler muttered. “I count fifteen.”
Ghost corrected him quietly. “Seventeen.”
Ridge lowered his stance, heart pounding so hard he felt it in his throat. Lena whispered. “He wants me alive. He told them not to shoot me.”
Ridge nodded. “That’s why they won’t get close.”
Calder took one slow step forward. “Hand her over,” he said. “And I’ll be merciful.”
Ridge didn’t move. He just whispered to the girl. “When I say run, you run behind Hail. You hear me?”
Lena shook her head hard. “No! I won’t leave!”
“You listen,” Ridge said. “You run.”
Her fingers dug deeper. “No, please don’t make me.”
Hail’s voice cut in—low, commanding. “Ridge, now.”
Ridge tightened one arm around her and shifted into a position she’d never felt from him before. His whole body turned to steel. “I’m not letting you go,” he whispered. “Not today.”
The forest inhaled around them. Calder raised his knife. His men raised their rifles. Mason steadied his aim. Ghost spun his chain. Wheeler clicked his safety off. Hail braced Emily behind him.
And Lena clung to Ridge like he was the last solid thing in a collapsing world.
The whistles echoed again. Three short tones. A signal. Calder smiled. “Time’s up.”
And the circle tightened.
The forest exploded. Not with a single shot, but with motion. Bushes rustled. Boots slammed into mud. Rain scattered off bodies lunging forward. Light beams jerked violently as men rushed through the trees. Rifles snapping upward, forming a jagged wall of gunmetal and silhouettes.
Calder didn’t charge. He walked—slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. Like the chaos was just background noise.
Ridge pressed Lena sideways behind him until her small back hit the cedar trunk. Her hands grabbed his jacket as if she feared the night would rip her away.
“Hail!” Wheeler shouted. “Positions!”
“Already on it!” Hail barked, pulling Emily to the ground and shielding her with his body.
Ghost slammed a man backward with a coil of chain, metal ringing against bone. Wheeler fired over their heads, forcing three attackers to scatter behind the trucks. Mason took a knee, firing sharp, controlled bursts to pin down the riflemen on the ridge.
Hail’s voice cut through the noise. “Keep the circle tight. Don’t let them flank!”
Too late. A man broke through the right side, sprinting directly toward Ridge and Lena. Lena screamed, short, sharp.
Ridge turned, raising his arm. A gunshot split the air. The attacker’s shoulder snapped back. He fell sideways into the mud. Mason shouted, “Don’t let them near the kid!”
Ridge lunged for Lena, pulling her close again. “You okay?” he gasped. She nodded, breath rapid, shaking hard.
Calder’s shadow moved behind them. Ridge spun, but Calder was already mid-swing. The baton slammed into Ridge’s ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. He hit the ground on one knee, still shielding Lena even as pain vibrated through his spine.
Calder crouched with a slow, almost affectionate cruelty. “You like playing hero,” he whispered. “Want to die for someone else’s mistake?”
Ridge spat blood. He stood. “She’s not your anything.”
Calder’s grin sharpened. “She’s marked. She’s mine.”
Ridge swung. He caught Calder’s jaw with a brutal right hook that sent him stumbling. Calder wiped blood from his lip and laughed—genuine, delighted. “Oh, you’re going to be fun to break.”
Wheeler roared from across the clearing. “Ridge, left!”
Ridge shoved Lena aside just as another man tackled him from behind. They rolled through leaves and mud. Ridge elbowed the man in the throat, flipped him, grabbed his wrist, and drove it into the ground until the gun fell free.
Calder closed in. Lena scrambled back, but tripped over a root. She hit the ground hard, yelping. Ridge saw it just for a second, but in that second, Calder rushed him again. They collided. Mud splashed. Ridge felt the knife skimming his jacket.
Hail punched a man off Emily and shouted, “Ghost, right side’s breaking!” Ghost slammed his chain into an attacker’s knee. Wheeler fired into the tree line. Emily crawled behind the stump, sobbing.
Lena got to her knees, clutching her chest, eyes huge with terror as Calder pressed Ridge onto his back, knife digging into his jacket, inches from his ribs.
Calder snarled through his teeth. “Give her up now.”
Ridge’s throat strained as he forced the knife away. “Not a chance.”
Calder leaned in harder. “You think dying for her makes you noble?”
Ridge’s voice broke into a growl. “You don’t get to talk about noble.”
Lena cried out. “Ridge!”
Calder smiled at her voice, and Ridge saw it. The way Calder’s eyes tracked the girl instead of him. The way Calder shifted the knife just slightly, preparing to move. He wasn’t just trying to kill Ridge. He was timing the kill so he could grab the girl the moment Ridge fell.
Rage ripped through Ridge like fire and dry brush. He jerked upward with everything he had left, slamming his forehead into Calder’s nose. Calder reeled back, blood spraying across the rain-soaked leaves.
Ridge rolled to his feet, but a second attacker grabbed him from the side and slammed him into a tree. Ridge groaned, ribs screaming. Calder wiped his face, knife shaking with fury. “You’re done!” he hissed.
Lena scrambled forward on hands and knees. “Stop! Leave him alone!”
Calder turned toward her. Ridge’s heart stopped. “Lena, no!”
But she wasn’t charging. She wasn’t frozen. She was trying to get to Ridge. And Calder moved to intercept her.
Everything slowed. Ridge lunged, but the attacker held him. Ghost was too far. Wheeler was pinned behind cover. Hail was shielding Emily from two riflemen near the rocks.
Calder raised his knife. Lena tripped, but caught herself and moved in front of Ridge, both arms out, tiny body shaking. “No, no, don’t hurt him, please.”
Calder laughed once, sharp and terrible. “You think he cares about you? You’re just leverage.”
Lena looked at Ridge with wet, terrified eyes. “But he came back for me,” she whispered.
Ridge choked on the words he didn’t have time to say. Calder stepped forward. Knife angled down. “That ends now.”
He swung.
Ridge roared. “RUN!”
Lena didn’t. She did the one thing no one expected. She moved toward the blade, not away. Ridge saw it too late. She stepped directly into Calder’s strike, and the knife meant for Ridge drove into her side instead.
Time shattered. Her breath left her in a soft, stunned gasp. Her body folded forward. Blood bloomed across her hoodie like ink dropped in water. Her knees buckled.
Ridge screamed. A raw, animal sound. Ghost’s chain snapped around the attacker’s neck behind Ridge. Wheeler fired three rapid shots. Mason hit someone in the leg from across the clearing, but all Ridge saw was Lena.
Calder blinked, stunned, like even he didn’t expect her to move. The knife slipped from his hand.
The little girl collapsed into the mud. Ridge dropped to his knees with her, catching her before her head hit the ground. Her small hand gripped his jacket.
She looked up at him, eyes glassy. “Ridge… Ridge.”
His voice broke. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
She drew one shaking breath. “Take care of Mom.”
Her eyelids fluttered. Ridge gathered her against his chest, blood soaking into his shirt, into his hands, into the forest floor. “No, no, no, Lena. Stay with me!”
Emily screamed somewhere behind him. Hail shouted orders. Ghost charged Calder. Wheeler laid down fire like a demon, but Ridge didn’t hear any of it. He only heard the tiny, uneven breaths of the girl in his arms as the world collapsed around them.
The world didn’t go silent. It went sharp. Every sound carved itself into Ridge’s skull. The gunfire, the shouts, the crunch of boots and mud. Yet all of it felt distant, as if coming from underwater.
Lena’s small body in his arms was the only real thing left. Her blood was warm, too warm against the cold rain.
“Stay with me,” Ridge whispered, voice cracking. “Stay right here.”
Lena’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused. She tried to breathe, but each inhale caught short, like something inside her wouldn’t let the air through. “I didn’t want him to hurt you,” she whispered.
Ridge’s throat closed. “You shouldn’t have taken that hit. You hear me? You shouldn’t have.”
She blinked slowly. “But you came back for me.”
He could barely manage. “I’d come back a thousand times.”
A scream tore across the clearing. Emily’s. Hail held her back as she tried to crawl toward them, arms outstretched, voice breaking. “Lena! Let me go! Let me go, please!”
But Hail locked his arms around her. “You move into that open,” Hail growled. “You die, and she needs you alive.” Emily collapsed against him, sobbing so violently it shook them both.
Calder stood frozen, shock etched across his face. He stared at the knife in the mud, at the blood dripping from it, at the child he’d never meant to stab. Then his face twisted, not in regret, but fury. “You stupid little—”
Ghost hit him from the side like a thrown brick, chain wrapping around Calder’s neck, ripping him backward. Calder’s skull slammed into a tree trunk. Ghost planted his boot on Calder’s chest and pulled hard, eyes blazing. “You touch a kid!” Ghost snarled. “And you’re done!”
But Calder’s men surged forward to protect him. Mason fired at the flank, picking off the closest attacker. Wheeler hit another with a rifle butt and dropped behind a fallen log to reload. Hail dragged Emily behind cover as bullets snapped overhead.
Ridge didn’t move. He couldn’t. He held Lena tighter, shielding her small frame from everything. Her breath rattled. Her fingers twitched against his jacket.
“Ridge,” she whispered.
He bent closer so she didn’t have to fight for volume. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes welled, but no tears fell. She was too weak for that now. “Am I going to die?”
Ridge inhaled sharply. Rain mixed with the blood on her cheek. He wiped it with his thumb, gentle. “No,” he said. “No, not while I’m breathing.”
Her lips trembled. “He’ll take Mom if I go.”
Ridge felt something hot and merciless ignite in his chest. “No one is taking anything from you two again.”
Another bullet ripped bark near his head. He ducked instinctively, pressing Lena closer. Calder’s voice cracked from the mud where Ghost held him pinned. “Kill them! I want all of them dead now!”
His men responded instantly, firing harder, advancing in a staggered line. Wheeler yelled. “They’re pushing! They’re pushing hard!” Mason barked. “Hold them off! Give the kid air!”
Hail cursed. “We’re pinned!”
Ridge felt Lena’s breath stutter again. He slid one hand under her back, the other supporting her head. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Her voice was tiny. “Ridge, it hurts.”
He swallowed hard. “I know. I know it does.”
She coughed once, and fresh blood stained his shirt. A cold spike of terror hit him. He tore open his vest with one hand and pressed it against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. The cloth darkened instantly, soaking through. He added pressure. She whimpered in pain, but didn’t push him away.
“You’re okay,” he kept repeating. “You’re okay. Stay with me.”
Her hand lifted, searching blindly. He caught it. She squeezed weakly.
Another volley of gunfire ripped through the clearing. Mason cursed as a bullet grazed his shoulder. Wheeler ducked and fired back. Ghost roared as Calder elbowed him and tried to break free. Emily screamed again when another bullet hit the tree beside her. Hail shouted, “We need to move or we’re all dead!”
Ridge didn’t move. He could feel Lena fading. He could feel time slipping like water through his fingers.
“Ridge,” she whispered, barely audible.
“I’m here,” he said again, voice raw.
Her eyes fluttered, trying to find him through the haze. “Don’t let them hurt Mom.”
“I won’t,” he whispered. “I promise.”
Her fingers loosened slightly in his grasp. Ridge’s heart slammed against his ribs. “No, no, no. Stay with me! Look at me!”
She blinked. It took everything she had. He held her hand tighter. “I need you to breathe,” he whispered. “Right here with me.” She inhaled shakily.
Chaos roared around them. Ghost struggling with Calder. Mason firing into the dark. Wheeler shouting orders. Hail dragging Emily deeper behind cover. But to Ridge, it all sounded miles away.
“Look at me,” he whispered again. Lena’s gaze drifted back to him. “My hero,” she murmured.
His breath broke. “Don’t say goodbye. Don’t you dare.”
She blinked hard, fighting to keep her eyes open. “Not goodbye.”
Ridge leaned closer. “Then stay,” he whispered. “Stay.”
Her lips parted. A soft breath escaped. Then another. Then a pause. A long one.
“Lena,” he said quickly. “Lena. Hey, look at me.”
She didn’t respond. “Lena.”
Her eyes fluttered barely, but she didn’t focus. Something inside Ridge tore open, an old wound resurfacing, a new one forming. He cradled her tighter, hand shaking as he applied pressure to the blood-soaked vest. “Stay with me,” he whispered urgently. “Come on, kid. You’re strong. Stronger than all of us.”
Another pause, a smaller breath, barely a whisper. Behind him, Mason shouted, “They’re flanking left! We can’t hold them!” Ghost’s chain clattered as Calder broke free and stumbled back. Wheeler lunged forward to intercept him. Hail yelled, “Ridge, move her now!”
Ridge didn’t move. He lowered his forehead to hers, voice breaking into pieces. “Please, please don’t leave.”
Her tiny breath touched his lips. But she didn’t answer. Not yet. Not ever.
Ridge felt something inside him ignite. Not fire, not fury—something quieter, heavier. Resolve.
He lifted his head slowly, his eyes locked on Calder. Calder froze mid-step, because Ridge looked like a man who wasn’t human anymore, a man who had nothing left to lose.
And Calder understood too late that the road had just changed direction.
Ridge whispered one last time to the girl in his arms, “Stay with me, sweetheart.”
Then he stood—with Lena held against his chest, with blood dripping down his forearm, with death in his eyes—and the forest seemed to stop breathing.
The moment Ridge rose, the battlefield shifted. Not because the attackers hesitated, but because every man on that road felt something change in the air. A man carrying a dying child isn’t a threat. A man carrying a dying child with murder in his eyes is something else entirely.
Calder froze mid-step, mud splashing at his boots. His knife hung limp in his hand. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
Ridge didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, didn’t break eye contact. He just started walking—slow, steady, unstoppable. Lena’s blood soaked down his sleeve and dripped from his fingertips. Her small head rested motionless against his shoulder. Rain slicked her hair to her cheek, painting her pale.
But Ridge didn’t look down at her anymore. He looked only at Calder.
Ghost stopped fighting, chain half-raised. Wheeler froze mid-kneel. Hail’s hand dropped from Emily’s shoulder. Mason lowered his rifle—because none of them had seen Ridge like this, not even in the old days.
Calder swallowed hard. His voice cracked when he finally forced words out. “Stop! Don’t… Don’t come any closer.”
Ridge stepped again.
Calder stumbled back. “You hear me? I said stop!”
Ridge kept coming. “You want her?” Ridge said, voice low and rough. “You came all this way to take her.”
Calder lifted the knife with trembling fingers. His confidence was gone. His cruelty was gone. Only fear remained. “I… I didn’t mean… she wasn’t supposed to…”
“You tried to kill her mother,” Ridge said, still walking. “You hunted them across counties. You stabbed a child.”
Calder shook his head. “It was an accident! She… She moved!”
Ridge’s grip on Lena tightened. “You don’t get to say her name.”
Gunfire cracked behind them. Mason firing a warning shot overhead, forcing Calder’s men to freeze instead of firing at Ridge’s exposed body. Ghost shouted, “Nobody moves! Anyone shoots anyone, and you’re dead before you hit the ground!”
Wheeler stepped up beside him, rifle ready, voice low and cold. “Touch your triggers, boys. See how fast you meet God.”
Hail stayed back with Emily, shielding her trembling frame. Her eyes were locked on her daughter, on Ridge carrying her, on the blood pouring through his fingers. She whispered through shaking lips, “Lena, baby, please…”
Ridge didn’t stop. Calder backed up until he hit a tree. He pressed against it like he expected it to swallow him. The knife shook in his hand.
“You’re not thinking straight,” Calder rasped. “She… she’s just a kid. She’ll slow you down. She’s—”
Ridge stepped into his space. The rain fell harder, drumming on leaves and metal and skin. Ridge’s voice didn’t rise. It dropped to a quiet, terrifying calm. “You’re going to walk away from here.”
Calder blinked, confused. “What?”
“You’re going to drop the knife,” Ridge said. “And you’re going to walk away from here.”
Calder shook his head, breath shallow. “I… I can’t. They’ll kill me.”
Ridge leaned in, jaw tight. “You think I care what happens to you?”
Calder’s throat bobbed. Behind Ridge, Mason’s voice cut through the rain. “Ridge, we need to get her out now. She’s fading. If we don’t move—”
Ridge’s jaw flexed. His eyes didn’t leave Calder’s. “You hear that?” Ridge whispered. “She’s dying because of you.”
Calder’s legs gave out and he fell to his knees. Rain mixed with the blood on his hands. “I… I didn’t mean—”
Ridge took one more step. He stood over Calder now, Lena cradled to his chest. Calder lifted the knife weakly in defense. Ridge didn’t flinch.
“You hurt her,” Ridge said quietly. “And she still saved someone else.”
Calder’s breath hitched. He dropped the knife as if it burned him. It hit the mud with a thud.
Ridge didn’t move for a long moment. Rain pattered onto Lena’s unmoving hand.
Then Ridge spoke. “Ghost.”
Ghost moved instantly, grabbing Calder by the collar and dragging him backward like a piece of trash. Calder didn’t fight. His spirit was broken. Whatever was left of it washed away by the storm.
Ridge finally lowered his gaze to the girl in his arms. Her lashes trembled. Her breath shuddered weakly. He whispered, “I’ve got you. We’re getting you out. Don’t you leave now.” Her small fingers twitched once against his chest.
Emily sobbed louder, falling to her knees. Hail held her steady, voice breaking as he whispered, “He’s bringing her. He’s coming. She’s still breathing.”
Mason stepped up beside Ridge. “We’re a quarter mile from the break in the road,” Mason said. “Our vans are there. Medics, safe ground.”
Ridge nodded once. A single tear slipped from Lena’s lashes, barely visible in the rain. But Ridge saw it. He held her closer, voice tight with grief and fury and something deeper. “You still here, sweetheart? Stay with me. Just a little longer. I’m getting you out.”
She tried to answer, a soft, broken exhale. “It was enough.”
Ridge turned. “Let’s move,” he said. “Now.”
Ghost and Wheeler fell in beside him. Mason and his riders formed a protective wall ahead. Hail carried Emily, who couldn’t walk anymore. And Ridge, bleeding, breath shaking, boots sinking into mud, carried the tiny girl who had stepped between him and death without a second thought.
The line of enemies didn’t fire. They didn’t chase. They watched in silence as the bikers walked deeper into the forest, toward the break in the road, toward the waiting headlights cutting through the rain, toward the last fragile hope the night had left.
Ridge didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on the dim glow ahead, the only thing that felt like a future, and whispered again into Lena’s hair, “Stay with me! Stay with me! Stay!” As the storm swallowed their footprints and the road ahead finally opened, a new promise—one of vengeance and protection—was sealed in the mud and the blood of the forest floor.
