Page 25 of Wings
The reality of my situation pressed down like a physical weight. Alex knew where I lived. Had been here, at my door, while I was at the hospital getting suspended. The anonymous complaint, the investigation—it all crashed together into a picture I didn't want to see. Three years of running, of careful locks and security codes, and he'd found me anyway.
My body started to tense, the familiar spiral beginning, when Gabe stirred. His arm tightened automatically, pulling me closer before his eyes opened. When they did, hazel meeting green in the morning light, his first words made my chest ache.
"You're safe," he murmured, voice rough with sleep. "I've got you."
I wanted to argue, to insist I didn't need protecting, that I'd been managing fine on my own. But the words died in my throat.Because I hadn't been fine. I'd been surviving, and there was a difference.
"The bear," I started.
"Gone. Dealt with." He shifted, sitting up slowly but keeping me close. "No one's going to hurt you, Ki. Not on my watch."
The certainty in his voice should have scared me. But this was Gabe, who'd never broken a promise to me, even when keeping them meant leaving.
"You can't stay here," he continued, and my stomach dropped. But before I could spiral, he added, "Pack a bag. You're coming with me."
"Gabe, I can't just—"
"You must." He reached for his prosthetic, movements practiced and efficient. "Duke's already arranged it. You'll stay at the clubhouse until this is sorted. Secure, protected, and Alex won't dare come near Heavy Kings territory."
The clubhouse. Bikers and violence and everything I'd run from. But also, hopefully, sanctuary.
"I need to pack." The words came out small, acceptance rather than argument.
"Take your time. Bring whatever you need." He stood, tested his weight on the prosthetic, then held out a hand to help me up. "I'll make some calls."
I retreated to my bedroom, mind racing. What did you pack when you were fleeing your life? The practical things were easy—clothes, toiletries, the folder with my important documents I kept ready for exactly this situation.
But then I stood at my closet, staring at the things I'd hidden even from myself. The soft pajamas pushed to the back. The yellow duck set that made me feel small and safe. The coloring books under the bed, wrapped carefully in my baby blanket.
I was kneeling by the bed, trying to decide if bringing them would be admitting too much, when Gabe appeared in thedoorway. I froze, caught with my hand in the hiding place, clutching the worn cotton of my baby blanket.
His expression gentled, and he stepped into the room, crouching beside me despite what it must cost his leg.
"Those too," he said quietly, nodding at the hidden treasures. "Bring whatever makes you feel safe."
"I'm not—I mean, I don't—" The denials tangled on my tongue.
"Ki." He waited until I met his eyes. "There's no judgment here. Pack what you need."
So I did. The coloring books went into the duffel first, then the baby blanket, then the soft pajamas that no grown woman should want to wear. He helped me fold them, careful with each item like he understood their value.
From the living room, I heard his phone calls. His voice carried that military authority I'd glimpsed in the parking garage.
"Yes, sir. Immediate relocation. No, she understands the situation." A pause. "Copy that. Twenty minutes."
I zipped the duffel, hands shaking slightly. Three years of careful independence, packed into a bag. Three years of pretending I was someone harder, stronger, more capable of being alone.
"Ready?" Gabe asked from the doorway.
I looked around my sterile apartment, at the white walls that had never felt like home, the locks that hadn't kept me safe after all.
"Yeah," I said, and was surprised to find I meant it. "I'm ready."
I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before. It was an experience.
I climbed onto the back of Gabe's motorcycle, the rumble of the engine vibrating through my body. The roar of the bike drowned out everything else, filling my ears with a thunderous symphony of power and freedom.
The wind whipped against my face, tousling my hair and bringing tears to my eyes. We shot forward, slicing through the air like a knife through butter. The world blurred around us, streetlights and buildings blending into streaks of color in my periphery.
