Page 9 of Rampage

Mr. England clears his throat from behind the counter, reminding us we're having this intensely personal conversation in a public place. Reid steps back, giving me space.

"I'm getting coffee next door," he says, nodding toward the small café adjacent to the bookstore. "Join me if you want. No pressure."

He returns his book and walks away, leaving me standing among the shelves of mystery novels with my heart pounding in my chest.

I watch him through the bookstore window as he crosses to the café. He doesn't look back, doesn't try to pressure me with expectant glances. The choice is genuinely mine.

For several minutes, I browse the shelves without seeing the titles, my mind racing. My instincts tell me to stay put, to avoid complications. But another voice—quieter, yet surprisingly persistent—whispers that perhaps it's time to stop merely surviving.

I place the book back on the shelf, my fingers lingering on its spine. What am I so afraid of? A coffee. Just a coffee.

With a deep breath, I make my decision. I pay for a paperback I've been eyeing for weeks, then step outside into the warm afternoon sun. The café door feels impossibly heavy as I pull it open, the little bell announcing my entrance.

Reid sits at a corner table, his back to the wall, just like I would choose. His eyes find mine immediately, surprise and pleasure crossing his features. He doesn't wave or call out, just watches as I make my way toward him.

"I didn't think you'd come," he says as I slide into the chair across from him.

"Neither did I," I admit.

A waitress appears, and I order a simple black coffee, ignoring the way my hands tremble slightly. When she leaves, silence stretches between us.

"Why me?" I finally ask the question that's been nagging at me since I first noticed his attention. "There are plenty of women around here who would be thrilled to have a Sinner interested in them."

Reid's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Maybe I'm not interested in women who are thrilled by patches and motorcycles."

"Then what are you interested in?"

He studies me for a moment, his blue eyes thoughtful. "Authenticity. Strength. The kind that comes from being broken and putting yourself back together."

My coffee arrives, giving me a moment to process his words. I wrap my hands around the warm mug, needing the anchor.

"I've seen you watching me for months," I say. "Why approach me now?"

"You seemed less… haunted. Like maybe you’re starting to believe you belong here."

The accuracy of his assessment is unsettling. "You don't know anything about where I came from."

"I know enough." His voice softens. "I know someone hurt you. I know you ran. I know you're still running, in some ways."

I stare into my coffee, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm going back," I say suddenly. "To my hometown. For a friend's wedding."

Reid nods, not pushing for details. "That's brave."

"Or stupid," I mutter.

"Sometimes they're the same thing." He takes a sip of his own coffee. "When is it?"

"Three weeks from now."

He seems to consider something, weighing his words. "I could go with you…"

My head snaps up. "What?"

"As protection. As a friend. However you need me to be there." His expression is serious. "No one would mess with you if you showed up with a Sinner and if they did, it would be my pleasure to take care of those threats.”

I stare at him, searching for some ulterior motive in his face, but find only sincerity. The offer is so unexpected that for a moment I can't form words.

"You'd do that? For someone you barely know?"

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