I feel a small, grim smile tug at my mouth despite everything. These men. My brothers. They’ve got my back no matter what. And right now, they’re ready to walk into hell with me to get Riley back. The trust between us is ironclad. We’ve seen each other at our worst and still chosen to stand together. That kind of bond doesn’t break.
We finish gearing up quickly, the familiar weight of vests, rifles, and sidearms settling into place. The cold morning air bites at my exposed skin, but the adrenaline keeps me warm. I can feel the determination in the air, thick and shared. We’re not just doing a job. We’re going after one of our own.
Kane claps me on the shoulder as we load into the vehicles. “We get her back, brother. No matter what it takes.”
I nod, my voice steady. “No matter what it takes.”
The trucks roar to life, engines growling as we pull out of the airfield. The road stretches ahead into the city, lights glowing in the distance. Riley’s out there. Scared. Alone. With men who want her dead. But I’m coming for her. And I’m not coming alone.
My brothers are with me. And together, we’ll bring her home.
31
Riley
The back room feels like a cage closing in around me. The air is thick with cigar smoke, stale beer, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear that I know is mostly coming from me. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard it feels like it might crack them. The carpet under my feet is sticky and stained with years of spilled drinks, clinging to my boots with every small shift of my weight. The walls are covered in faded, peeling wallpaper that looks dreadful. Low-hanging lights cast yellowish pools on the table, leaving most of the room in shadow where Antonio’s goons lean against the walls, their eyes crawling over me like hungry wolves.
Antonio Moretti sits at the head of the long wooden table like a king on a filthy throne. His cold eyes watch me with that terrifying, playful smile that never reacheshis dead gaze. The ice in his glass clinks softly as he swirls his amber drink, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense silence. His cologne is sharp and expensive, cutting through the smoke and making my stomach twist.
“Is everything set up for the move?” he asks his men. “Want to make sure everything runs smoothly with the shipment. Maybe we’ll toss Riley here in for a free gift.” He laughs at his own joke. “I know the sheikh would love that.”
This can’t be happening. My eyes widen as I glance around the room for some sort of escape. Some small thing that can help me slip past all the men holding me captive. I shake my head. There’s just too many of them.
Before Antonio can say anything else, a deafening explosion rocks the outer wall of the room. The blast is so loud it feels like it shakes my bones. Plaster and wood explode inward in a cloud of dust and debris that stings my eyes and fills my lungs with the acrid taste of explosives and burnt timber. Shouts erupt everywhere as the men scramble, chairs scraping loudly against the floor, guns being drawn with metallic clicks. The air fills with dust, choking me as I cough and duck instinctively, my hands flying up to protect my face.
Gunfire explodes through the chaos. Short, controlled bursts that make my ears ring painfully. The goons shoutand fire back, their voices raw and panicked, but the intruders move with terrifying precision. Six men in full black tactical gear burst into the room, guns raised, moving like shadows through the smoke and dust. My heart leaps into my throat as I spot him immediately.
Mason.
Relief floods my system so strongly that my knees almost buckle. He’s here. He came for me. His eyes lock onto mine through the swirling smoke and dust, fierce and protective, and for the first time since they dragged me away I feel like I can breathe again. The scent of gunpowder and sweat fills the air, but all I can focus on is him— my mountain man, my protector, my everything.
Antonio snarls and raises his weapon, aiming at one of the other marshals. A single, sharp shot rings out, the sound cracking through the room like thunder. Antonio’s body jerks violently, blood blooming dark and wet across his chest. He collapses to the floor with a heavy thud, eyes wide and lifeless. The metallic scent of fresh blood cuts through the smoke, but I feel no pity. Only relief.
Mason’s across the room in seconds, his powerful arms wrapping around me, pulling me tight against his chest. His tactical vest is rough against my cheek, but his body underneath is warm and solid. He kisses me hard, desperate, his mouth claiming mine with all the fear andlove he’s been holding back. His lips are warm and slightly salty from sweat, his stubble scraping my skin in that familiar way that makes me shiver. I cling to him, tears streaming down my face, my hands fisting in his vest like I never want to let go.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough and full of emotion. “I’m never letting you go again, Riley. Never.”
I pull back just enough to look at him, my voice shaking. “It was Stevens. He betrayed us. He sold me to them.”
Mason’s eyes darken, but there’s no surprise in them. “Yes, we know. It’s how we found you.”
He kisses me again, slower this time, deep and full of promise. His arms hold me like he’ll never let go, and in that moment, surrounded by the chaos and the men who came for me, I know I’m finally safe.
I’m home.
32
Mason
A few weeks after the raid, I stand on the wide wooden porch of my house in Timber Creek The mountains rise up around us like old friends. Today it doesn’t quite reach the quiet storm I still carry inside. My body aches from the fight, my injured arm throbs with a dull reminder, but none of that matters. Riley’s safe.
I lean against the railing, the rough wood pressing into my forearms, and breathe in the clean mountain air. The gravel driveway stretches out in front of me, winding down toward the main road. Every detail feels sharper today, like the world has decided to remind me how close I came to losing her.
Inside the cabin, Riley moves around the kitchen. I can hear the soft clatter of pans and bowls, the rhythmicscrape of a spoon against dough. The sweet, warm scent of fresh bread and cinnamon drifts out through the open window, wrapping around me like a gentle hand on my shoulder. She’s humming to herself, that off-key little tune she always makes when she bakes, and every now and then I catch the soft sound of her laughter as she talks to the dough like it can hear her. It makes my chest ache in the best possible way. She’s safe.
I haven’t let her out of my sight since I got her back. Not for a second. The memory of her being dragged away from me in that motel room still burns behind my eyes, the terror in her voice when she called my name echoing in my ears. I’d almost burned the world down to get her back. And I would do it again in a heartbeat. No hesitation. No regret.
The low rumble of trucks pulling up the long gravel drive pulls me from my thoughts. I turn as Jax, Colt, Ryker, Brock, and Kane climb out of their vehicles. They look tired, dark circles under their eyes, but they move with that solid, grounded presence that comes from years of doing the right thing even when it costs you sleep, blood, and peace of mind.
