Page 70 of Tempest

I nodded, my mind already racing. Alliances to solidify, revenge to plan, a club to rebuild. The pain in my body faded to background noise as determination surged through me. “We’ll hit back,” I said, my voice low and deadly. “Harder than they could ever imagine.”

Kasen’s eyes met mine, worry and admiration warring in her gaze. “I know you want to, but this is far bigger than anything we can all handle. Savior and the other club presidents all agree we need to stand down and see if the cartel makes a move. Wire is watching them like a hawk. One sign they’re going to retaliate, and we’ll start strategizing again. Until then, we’re all supposed to just recover.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The rage was building, a familiar inferno that threatened to consume everything. But as I looked at Kasen, I felt an anchor. A reason to hold on to some piece of myself in the coming storm. “What about the neighborhood we were in?” I asked.

“Chief Daniels had already made sure no citizens were present. The homes there might be nothing but rubble, but no innocents were hurt.”

I swallowed hard, the inferno in my chest dimming to embers. “Kasen, I…” The words stuck in my throat. Vulnerability wasn’t my strong suit.

She leaned closer, her eyes searching mine. “What is it, Tempest?”

“I’m scared,” I admitted, the confession tasting like ash. “Not of dying. Of failing them. The club, the dead, you. If I’d just done something different, would they all be alive?”

Kasen’s hand tightened on mine. “You haven’t failed us. We’re in this together. All of us.”

I looked away, shame burning hot. “You don’t know the darkness in me, Kasen. The things I’m capable of… What I wanted to do to those men. What Istillwant to do.”

“I’ve seen your darkness,” she interrupted. “And I’m still here.”

My eyes snapped back to hers, surprised. She reached out, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. The gentleness of her touch sent a shiver through me.

“You’re not alone in this fight,” Kasen murmured. “I promise you that.”

I squeezed her hand, words failing me. In that moment, the connection between us deepened, and it felt as if we had a silent understanding.

I took a deep breath, wincing at the pain. “What happens now, Kasen? The club’s in shambles, so many of our brothers are dead or wounded.”

Her eyes flashed with determination. “We may be down, but we aren’t out! I told you we could rebuild. Stronger than before.”

“Just like that?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my voice.

“No, not ‘just like that,’” Kasen shot back. “It’ll be hell. But we’ve got each other. The remaining brothers. My family. Your strength.”

I snorted. “My strength? I’m laid up in a hospital bed.”

“Your strength isn’t just physical, Tempest.” She leaned in, her face inches from mine. “It’s here.” She gently placed her hand right over my heart.

The warmth of her touch spread through me, battling the cold fury I’d had as a constant companion. “I don’t know how to do this without violence,” I admitted.

“Then we figure it out together,” Kasen said. “Build something new. Something lasting. Maybe start small. Like in our own home.”

“Our home?” I asked.

She smiled softly and placed my hand over her belly. “Found out this morning we’re going to be parents. So see, you have so much to live for.”

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the emotions crashing through me. Kasen’s presence was a balm to my battered soul, a lighthouse in the storm of my thoughts. She believed in me, in us, with a ferocity that both terrified and exhilarated me.

When I opened my eyes again, I saw my future reflected in hers. And all I felt right then was hope.

Kasen’s hand found mine, her fingers intertwining with my own. I met her gaze, the intensity in her eyes mirroring my own. No words were needed. The air between us hung heavy with unspoken promises.

I tugged her closer, ignoring the pain from my injuries. Kasen came willingly, perching on the edge of the bed. Her free hand cupped my cheek, her touch gentle yet firm.

We stayed like that, frozen in time, drinking in each other’s presence. The hospital sounds faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of our breathing.

In that moment, I knew. Nothing else mattered as long as I had her.

Epilogue

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