Page 28 of Rampage

"It's settled then," Lane announces. "Lily Chambers is under the protection of the Grim Sinners MC, effective immediately." He turns to me, his expression softening slightly. "That means a few things, Lily. First, you're never alone from now on. The club will have someone watching out for you at all times—discreetly, of course."

I blink, trying to process this. "All the time?"

"Until this threat is neutralized," he confirms. "Second, our lawyer will handle the false charges. You won't have to worry about being arrested.

Relief floods through me at those words. The fear of being dragged back to Frank in handcuffs has been gnawing at me since the chief mentioned the warrant.

Grace, who has been quietly observing from the side of the room, approaches and places a hand on my shoulder. "You don't need to say anything, honey. Just let us help you."

As the meeting concludes, the atmosphere in the clubhouse shifts. Someone turns on music, and drinks appear. The tension breaks, replaced by a strange mix of celebration and focused determination. Several of the members approach me, introducing themselves properly now that I'm officially under their protection.

One by one, they come to me, these intimidating men in leather vests with hard eyes. Each offers something: support, resources, a phone number to call if I need help. By the time the last one has spoken to me, I'm fighting back tears.

Reid appears at my side, a bottle of water in his hand. "Overwhelmed?" he asks quietly.

"A little," I admit, accepting the water gratefully. "I didn't expect… all this."

"The club takes care of its own," he says. "And now that includes you."

"But why?" I can't help asking. "Why would they do all this for someone they just met?"

Reid considers this for a moment, his eyes serious. "Partly because I asked them to. Partly because what's happening to you is wrong, and the club stands against that kind of injustice." He pauses, seeming to debate whether to continue. "And partly because many of them have daughters, sisters, wives who could have been in your situation. Who have been in similar predicaments."

I look around the room with new eyes, seeing beyond the leather and tattoos to the men beneath. Men with families they'd do anything to protect. Men who understand what it means to be vulnerable in a world that preys on weakness.

"What happens now?" I ask, suddenly exhausted by the emotional weight of the day.

"Now, we start planning," Reid says. "The wedding is in three weeks. That gives us time to gather information, build a case against Frank, maybe even track down some of the other girls who lived in that house."

The thought of confronting my past so directly makes my stomach clench with anxiety. "And if we can't find them? Or if they won't talk?"

"Then we find another way," Reid says, his voice hardening with each word.

I watch his expression change, the softness that's been there for me transforms into something else entirely. His jaw clenches, a muscle flickering beneath the stubble. His eyes narrow, turning from warm blue to something closer to ice. Even his posture shifts, becoming more rigid, more imposing, as he leans forward.

"One way or another, Frank Dawson is going to pay for what he did to you. For what he did to all of you."

The way he says Frank's name, like it's something foul in his mouth, sends a shiver down my spine. Not from fear of Reid, but from the realization of what he's capable of. What the men in this room are capable of.

"We have resources," he continues, his voice dropping lower so only I can hear. "People who can find information that doesn't want to be found. People who can make problems disappear."

My throat tightens. "You mean?—"

"I mean whatever it takes," he cuts in, his fingers interlacing with mine on top of the table now. His thumb traces small circles against my skin, a touch that contrasts sharply with the steel in his voice. "Legal first. Always legal first. But, Lily…"

He pauses, making sure I'm looking directly into his eyes.

"If the legal way fails, if the system that was supposed to protect you keeps failing you, there are other options. And I need you to be prepared for that."

He hands me a small, prepaid cell phone. "It's programmed with my number, my father's, and several other club members.' Keep it with you at all times. If anything happens, anything at all that makes you uncomfortable, you call. Someone will be there within minutes."

I take the phone from him, the weight of it feeling significant in my palm. "Thank you."

By the time we leave the clubhouse, it's nearly midnight. The night air has cooled considerably, and I shiver in my light blouse. Reid immediately shrugs out of his leather jacket and drapes it around my shoulders.

"Let's get you home," he says, guiding me toward his motorcycle.

The events of the day crash over me in waves—the confrontation with Officer Jenkins, the panic attack, the club meeting, the unanimous vote to protect me. Exhaustion pulls at every muscle, making my limbs feel heavy.

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