Page 7 of Maverick's Code

"No," she admits. "I'm not sure about anything anymore. But I'm tired of running, tired of being afraid." She looks up at me, determination replacing the fear in her eyes. "And something tells me you're my best shot at surviving this."

"Alright," I nod, grabbing my sister's leather jacket from the closet and holding it out to her. "But stay close to me. And remember - I've got your back."

She takes the jacket, her fingers brushing against mine.

"I hope so," she says quietly. "Because I'm done trusting the wrong people." She pulls the leather around her shoulders, looking smaller somehow. "I still can't believe I'm about to handover Outlaws' secrets. If my father was alive..." she shakes her head, voice catching. "He'd be so disappointed."

"No," I say firmly, surprising both of us with my conviction. "If your father was alive, he'd probably be proud as hell that his daughter is doing whatever it takes to survive. That's what good fathers want - their kids alive and fighting."

She looks up at me, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes. "You sound pretty sure about that for someone who never met him."

"I know enough about fathers and daughters," I say, checking my gun before tucking it into my waistband. "And I know that any father worth his salt would choose his kid's life over club loyalty every time."

A small smile ghosts across her lips - the first real one I've seen from her.

"You're different than I expected," she admits.

"Yeah, well," I open the door, gesturing for her to go first, "don't spread it around. Got a reputation to maintain."

As we head down to my bike, I can feel the weight of what we're about to do settling on my shoulders. Taking an Outlaw's daughter into Iron & Blood territory - it's either the bravest or stupidest thing I've ever done.

But watching her straighten her spine as she walks, fighting through the pain with every step, I know I've made my choice. Now we just have to hope the club will understand.

Chapter 4 - Sadie

My heart pounds against my ribs as we walk toward his Harley.

What the hell am I doing? Twenty-four hours ago, I was getting beaten by a man I once considered family, forced into a white dress and told to smile pretty while Jake explained how our marriage would unite what was left of the Outlaws.

Now, I'm willingly walking into enemy territory with a man I barely know, ready to spill secrets I've been taught to protect since birth.

The morning sun catches on Maverick's bike, and I remember all the times I watched Outlaw bikes gleaming in the same light, thinking they represented freedom, family, loyalty. What a joke that turned out to be. Everything I thought I knew about loyalty shattered the moment Jake's fist connected with my face, when my supposed brothers stood by and watched.

And yet... watching Maverick check his bike, his movements confident and sure, I feel something I haven't felt in weeks: safe. Maybe I'm just trading one dangerous situation for another, but at least this time, it's my choice. There's something about him that makes me want to trust him, even though everything I've ever learned screams that I shouldn't.

"You good?" he asks, holding out a helmet to me.

His eyes are concerned but not pitying. I've had enough pity to last a lifetime.

No. Not even close to good. I'm about to walk into a clubhouse full of men who've spent years trying to destroy my family. I'm going to betray everything I was raised to believe in. But the Outlaws betrayed me first, didn't they? They stopped being family the moment Jake decided I was his property to claim.

"Yeah," I lie, taking the helmet. My hands shake slightly as I try to fasten it.

He steps closer, his fingers brushing mine as he helps with the strap.

"We can still figure out another way. You don't have to do this."

"No," I shake my head, wincing as the movement pulls at my bruises. "The Outlaws made their choice when they stood by and watched Jake..." I can't finish the sentence, but I don't need to. The bruises tell the story well enough. "Now I'm making mine."

The ghost of a smile touches his lips as he swings his leg over the bike.

"Then hold on tight, princess. This ride might get interesting."

I climb on behind him, trying to ignore how natural it feels to wrap my arms around his waist. His body is solid and warm, and despite everything, I feel myself relaxing slightly against his back. The engine roars to life, and with it comes a strange sense of finality. There's no going back now.

As we pull away from his apartment, I tighten my grip. I can't help but wonder if I'm making the biggest mistake of my life or finally doing something right. The information I have about the other escaped leader - about the plans Jake let slip during his drunken rants - it could change everything. Or it could get me killed.

But looking at the Iron & Blood patch on Maverick's cut, feeling his strength and steadiness as he guides the bike through morning traffic, I realize something: for the first time since everything went to hell, I'm not running away from something.

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