Page 90 of Rampage

One woman, barely twenty, clings to my hand while Meadow sets her broken fingers. "He said no one would look for me," she whispers. "That I was nothing to anyone."

"He lied," I tell her firmly. "You matter. And you're free now."

Dawn breaks with pale light filtering through the clubhouse windows. Many of the women have finally fallen asleep, curled under blankets or leaning against each other for comfort. Meadow has worked tirelessly through the night, treating injuries, dispensing medications, documenting evidence.

I find Reid in the kitchen, his expression weary as he stares into a cup of coffee. Blood still stains his shirtsleeve where his own wound was hastily rebandaged in the chaos.

"You need rest," I say softly, taking the cup from his hands and setting it aside. "And that arm needs proper attention."

He doesn't argue as I lead him upstairs to the bedroom we shared earlier. His exhaustion is evident in every line of his body, in the dark circles beneath his eyes. I help him remove his shirt, wincing at the angry red wound beneath the bandage.

"Let me clean this," I insist, gathering first aid supplies from the bathroom.

Reid sits on the bed, watching me with tired eyes as I gently remove the soiled bandage. The bullet graze looks painful but clean, with no signs of infection yet. I work, cleaning the wound, applying antibiotic ointment, then rebandaging with fresh gauze.

"You're getting good at this," he observes, his voice rough with fatigue.

"I've had a good teacher in Meadow," I reply, securing the last piece of tape. "Though I hope I don't need to use these skills often."

When I finish, Reid catches my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "Thank you. For everything tonight, for helping those women, for understanding what needed to be done." His free hand comes up to cup my cheek. "You're extraordinary, Lily."

"So are you." I lean into his touch, suddenly overwhelmed by the events of the past twenty-four hours. "We should get cleaned up and rest."

Reid nods, rising from the bed with effort. In the bathroom, I turn on the shower while he carefully removes the rest of his clothes. The bruises across his torso, evidence of the fight at the bakery, make my heart ache.

The shower is quick, neither of us having the energy for anything but the sole purpose of cleansing. I help Reid wash his hair one-handed, my fingers against his scalp. He leans into my touch, eyes closed in momentary peace.

"Almost done," I murmur, rinsing the last of the soap from his shoulders.

We dry off hastily, the exhaustion settling into our bones making every movement an effort. Reid finds clean t-shirts in a dresser drawer. His hangs loose on my frame, reaching mid-thigh like a nightgown.

When we finally slide beneath the covers, Reid pulls me against him with his good arm, tucking my head beneath his chin. The familiar scent of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear, creates a bubble of safety in a world that's been turned upside down.

"Sleep now," he whispers, pressing a kiss to my damp hair. "Everything else can wait."

I nod against his chest, my eyes already closing as exhaustion claims me. The last thing I register before sleep pulls me under is Reid's arm tightening around me, his breath evening out as he joins me in slumber.

In this moment, despite everything we've endured and all the challenges still ahead, I feel something rare and precious: peace. Here in Reid's arms, surrounded by people who would fight and die to protect us, I am truly home.

And for tonight, that is enough.

fifteen

One Month Later

Lily

"It's yours," Mrs. Winters says, handing me a white envelope, along with my final paycheck. "Are you sure about this, Lily?"

I nod, excitement building in my chest. "Thank you, Mrs. Winters. I can't wait to get started."

Behind the bakery's counter, an empty display case waits to be filled. By this time next week, if all goes according to plan, it will be bursting with cupcakes and cookies and brownies for the grand opening of the new venture Mrs. Winters helped me launch.

Sweet Beginnings, the sign outside now reads in cheerful blue letters. New Ownership, Same Great Baked Goods.

"It's a lot of work," Mrs. Winters cautions, though her eyes twinkle with excitement. "You sure you're ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," I reply, almost giddy with anticipation. I clutch the envelope to my chest, already knowing the check has more zeroes than I expected. She's been generous, both with her small business loan and her faith in me.

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