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We open the doors of the car and run toward the steps, descending them two at a time, the dim underground swallowing us whole. The train’s is a chance at distance, and we leap aboard just as the doors wheeze shut, sealing us away from the night.
As the subway lurches forward, I lean against JD, and realize he had the presence of mind to grab my bag of meager belongings. This tells me he’s in this fight with me until the very end. We’re more than just Cheree and JD now, we’re survivors, partners in crime.
And I can’t help but wonder, as the train hurtles through the darkness, if escaping is possible.
I keep close to JD, feeling the reassuring bulk of his presence as much as I hear his labored breaths matching mine.
“Cheree,” he murmurs, the way he says it, like a prayer or a curse, reminds me of who I am underneath it all—a woman on the run, desperate for a lifeline. “We can’t keep going like this. We need to get to a safe place.”
Then, the shrill ring of a phone shatters the silence. JD’s body tenses, his hand tightens around mine before he lets go to fish the device from his pocket.
“Grim,” he mouths, and my stomach knots at the sound of the president’s name—a man who commands armies, deals in life and death.
“Talk to me,” JD barks into the phone, as he puts it on speaker.
“JD, Viper’s on the move—left Texas. He’s got a scent, and I don’t like it,” Grim’s voice rumbles through the line.
“Where do we go?” JD’s question is terse, each syllable laced with the weight of our plight.
“Brooklyn. Got a spot for you two. But listen, he might be expecting that. You might want to think about going somewhere else,” Grim advises.
“Understood,” JD replies, his eyes meeting mine.
“Hey,” Grim’s voice softens, a rare occurrence, “and JD? Take care of her. She’s good for you. And... I know you’re falling for that fiery redhead. Don’t screw it up.”
The line goes dead, and JD’s gaze lingers on me, unspoken words hanging in the air. My heart is slamming against my ribs, not just from fear but something akin to hope, reckless and wild.
“Cheree,” JD starts, his voice a low rumble, “we’ll find a way out of this. Together.”
I nod, pushing down the swell of emotions threatening to choke me. Because now’s not the time for tender confessions, it’s the time for survival. But as we step back into the fray, I allow myself the smallest of smiles, daring to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this than running.
The city’s pulse fades into a steady throb as JD, and I get off at the next station and find the next train to Brooklyn. His phone beeps as a text comes through. JD smiles and shows it to me. It’s from Grim, an address for an apartment.
“Safe haven.” JD slips the phone back into his pocket and takes my hand in his. “Ready?”
I nod as we get onto another train. No one pays us any attention, just two people riding the subway. Casually, I look at each person in our car. No one looks out of place, and no one makes eye contact. JD rubs my back and I look up at him.
“It might not have been them.”
“Yeah, we abandoned the car because you were scared,” I reply sarcastically.
He tilts his head to the side. “We’re both on edge. It might just have been a local MC.”
“Except it wasn’t, was it?”
JD pulls me into him and says nothing. At the next stop we get out, and he hails the first cab we see on the sidewalk. We climb in and JD gives him the address Grim sent him. It’s only a few blocks from the train station. JD pays the cabbie as I step out onto the street. He joins me, takes my hand, and leads me into an apartment building. It’s old and doesn’t have an elevator. JD leads me up three flights of stairs then feels around the door frame for the key. Smiling, he holds it up, unlocks the door and ushers me inside. The apartment is a haven of silence, a sharp contrast to the cacophony of the city. It’s small, barely furnished, but it’s only a place to rest.
JD surveys the room, his eyes scanning for threat. Satisfied, he turns to me, and the intensity in his gaze ignites something primal within me.
“Cheree,” he begins, his voice barely above a husk, “I want you to know, you mean more to me than...”
“Shh,” I interrupt, stepping closer, placing a finger over his lips, and shutting the door. “Words can wait.”
The space between us evaporates as we come together, a tangle of limbs and lips. My fingers explore the map of scars on his skin, each one a story of survival. His hands are tender on me, branding me with a desire I’ve long denied myself.
We move together, a perfect chaos of motion. His hands tug at the bottom of my t-shirt as my hands pull at his belt. Clothes and shoes are discarded on the floor as we explore each other.
I’m bare, JD’s lips ignite a fire that spreads rapidly through my veins. His kiss is fervent, hungry, as if he’s trying to consume my doubts and dress my vulnerabilities in passion. I’m here, in this moment, nothing held back.
