Page 61 of Rampage

The room spins slightly, and I grip the table to steady myself. All this time, I thought I was running from just Frank. But there was someone else—someone I never saw, never knew about—who considered me their property.

"I need to sit down," I whisper, my legs suddenly unable to support my weight.

Reid guides me to a chair, kneeling in front of me. His hands, with one bandaged from his earlier outburst, frame my face with surprising gentleness.

"Listen to me," he says, his blue eyes fierce with conviction. "You're safe now. You're with me, with the club. No one is going to touch you."

I nod, trying to believe him, but the knowledge that there's someone else out there—someone who paid to abuse me, who might still be looking for me—makes my skin crawl.

"We need to move quickly," Lane says, addressing Tiffany. "Contact your friend at Justice. Get this evidence secured and documented properly."

"Already on it," she replies, typing rapidly on her phone. "I can have her here by tomorrow afternoon."

"And Frank?" I ask, the name like acid on my tongue.

"Frank isn't going anywhere," Reid assures me, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "Jenkins might have helped him tonight, but with evidence like this, not even his network can protect him for long."

"We should get you home," Aiden says, his fatherly concern evident in his voice. "You both need rest after tonight."

Rest feels impossible with my mind racing, with the knowledge that there's someone else out there who sees me as property to be bought. But exhaustion pulls at every muscle, and the thought of Reid's cabin, of safety and warmth and his arms around me, is too tempting to resist.

"Okay," I agree, letting Reid help me to my feet.

As we prepare to leave, Tiffany approaches with a small device in her hand. "Take this," she says, pressing it into my palm. "It's a secure phone. I've programmed my number and the emergency contact for my Justice Department friend. If anything happens, anything at all, call immediately."

The weight of the phone in my hand is both reassuring and ominous—a lifeline, but also a reminder of the danger that still surrounds me.

"Thank you," I say, slipping it into my pocket.

Outside, the night air is cool against my flushed skin. Reid guides me to his truck, his hand never leaving the small of my back. The parking lot is still filled with motorcycles and vehicles—the entire club mobilized for tonight's operation.

As Reid helps me into the passenger seat, I catch sight of Mason and Christopher standing by their bikes, watching us with matching solemn expressions. They nod respectfully when they see me looking, a silent acknowledgment of what we've discovered tonight.

Reid slides into the driver's seat beside me, his presence large and reassuring in the confined space. He doesn't start the engine immediately, instead turning to face me in the darkness.

"I know it's a lot," he says quietly. "What we found tonight… it changes things."

I nod, unable to find words for the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Relief at having the evidence, horror at its contents, fear of the unknown person who paid to abuse me.

"But it doesn't change this," Reid continues, his hand finding mine in the darkness. "It doesn't change us. If anything, it makes me more certain."

"Certain of what?" I ask, my voice small in the quiet truck.

His fingers tighten around mine. "That I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. That you're worth fighting for." He pauses, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "That I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be—with you."

The simple declaration makes my throat tight with emotion. After a lifetime of being treated as disposable, as something to be used and discarded, Reid's unwavering commitment feels like a miracle I don't deserve but desperately need.

"I'm scared," I admit, the confession easier in the darkness. "Not just of Frank, but of whoever was paying him. Of what happens next."

"I know," he says. But you're not facing it alone anymore."

He starts the truck, the engine rumbling to life. As we pull out of the parking lot, I notice two motorcycles falling into formation behind us—club members ensuring we make it home safely.

The drive to Reid's cabin passes in comfortable silence, my hand still held firmly in his. My mind races with everything we've discovered tonight, with the implications of Frank's extensive network and the mysterious payments. But beneath the fear and uncertainty, something else stirs, a fierce determination that matches Reid's own.

For the first time in my life, I'm not just running from my past. I'm turning to face it, with an army at my back and a man beside me who would tear the world apart to keep me safe.

The thought should terrify me.

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