Page 94 of Emmy's Ride

Austin’s hand rested on my thigh, his touch grounding but not enough to pull me from the fog. I stared out the window, watching as the compound came into view. It should’ve felt like a relief. It didn’t.

I should’ve stayed with Luke. The guilt twisted inside me like a dull knife. But I knew—we knew—why I hadn’t.

Luke was safe. Surrounded by security and police protection, with Tank at his side. Staying with him would’ve been a mistake. The Ghost’s reach was long, and the last thing Luke needed was to be used as bait to lure me back into hell. And if I was being honest with myself, sitting by his bedside, trapped in the sterile quiet of a hospital room, would’ve shattered what little control I had left. I had barely held it together when I spoke with him before leaving.

His eyes were swollen, unable to fully open, but he had forced them to meet mine. His voice, hoarse and weak, had still carried strength when he told me to go home. To get better.

“You’re no good to me like this, Em.”

I had nodded, blinking back tears, knowing he was right.

And now I was here. The SUV pulled to a stop in front of the clubhouse, and the reality of being back pressed down on me with crushing force.

Austin turned toward me, watching, waiting. I felt his concern like heat against my skin, but I didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, I reached for the door handle and stepped out before he could say anything. If I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure what would come out.

The moment my feet hit the gravel, the familiar scents of oil, leather, and whiskey filled my lungs. The sounds of the compound—distant laughter, the rumble of engines from the garage next door, the steady hum of life—felt like an intrusion.

I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

Austin was at my side in an instant, but I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. I squared my shoulders and walked inside because the only way to keep from breaking was to keep moving.

As I crossed the threshold, a sense of suffocation enveloped me. The walls were too close. My stomach twisted.

I didn’t belong here.

I turned abruptly, my shoes scuffing against the floor as I faced Austin. He was already watching me, arms crossed over his chest, that unreadable expression fixed in place. The one that told me he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“I’m not staying here,” I announced.

Austin’s jaw ticked. “Yeah, you are.”

I shook my head, pushing down the frustration boiling inside me. “I have an apartment, Austin. My own space. I want to go home.”

“You’re not safe there.” His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the finality in his tone.

I huffed out a bitter laugh. “And I’m safe here?” I gestured around the room, to the clubhouse filled with bikers, the place that was just as much a target as anywhere else.

“You’re safer than you would be alone.”

Out of habit I replied, “I can take care of myself.” But I wasn’t sure I believed that anymore. I didn’t know if there was anywhere on the planet I would ever feel safe again.

Austin’s eyes darkened. “No.”

I sucked in a breath, my nails digging into my palms. “That’s not fair.”

His expression didn’t change. “No, what’s not fair is you acting like everything is fine when it’s not.”

“I never said I was fine.” I blew out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “I just don’t want to be here, Austin. I don’t want this life.”

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. A crack in that solid exterior. “This isn’t about the club.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t because he was right.

This wasn’t about the club. It was about him. About the way I felt when I was near him. About how I wanted him, but at the same time, I couldn’t let myself have him.

Not after everything. Not after what I did. Not when I still felt like a broken version of myself.

Austin stepped closer, crowding my space. “You don’t have to stay forever, but you’re not walking out of here tonight.” His voice lowered. “You’re not ready.”

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