Page 38 of Savage Loyalty

“Buzzkill,” Lucy muttered, but she didn’t argue.

I nodded the edges of the night blurring in a way that told me Caleb was right. My body was buzzing, my limbs pleasantly heavy, but I wasn’t out of control. Not yet.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the car and the soft murmur of the radio lulling Lucy into a half-asleep state in the backseat. Caleb’s hands were steady on the wheel, his sober focus grounding. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into the dark stretch of road that led to my house.

When we finally pulled into the driveway, the sight waiting for us made my stomach drop.

The Crimson Reapers.

Their bikes were lined up like sentries, the chrome gleaming under the porch light. My house loomed behind them, dark and imposing, but it was the figures standing on the front steps that stole the breath from my lungs.

Ryder.

And he wasn’t alone.

Torch leaned against the railing, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Chains was a shadowy figure near the door, his face unreadable as his sharp gaze locked onto the car. Smoke and the others lingered near the bikes; their postures relaxed but undeniably ready for anything.

“What the hell?” Caleb muttered, his grip tightening on the wheel.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Stay here.”

“Like hell,” Caleb said, his tone firm. “I’m not letting you deal with that alone.”

I turned to him, forcing as much steadiness into my voice as I could muster. “It’s fine. Just... get Lucy home, okay? I’ll handle this.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but he nodded. “Call me if you need anything.”

I climbed out of the car, my heels crunching against the gravel as I shut the door behind me. The sound seemed to echo in the stillness, the weight of their stares pressing down on me as I walked toward the house.

Ryder was the first to move, stepping off the porch with that same deliberate, commanding energy he always carried. His eyes locked onto mine, and the heat in his gaze sent a shiver down my spine.

"Kitten," Ryder drawled, his voice low and dripping with that infuriating mix of arrogance and danger. He leaned casually against the porch railing, but the look in his eyes wasn’t casual at all. It was sharp, cutting through the night like a blade. His broad shoulders caught the faint glow of the porch light, and he was every bit the predator I’d been trying to avoid.

“What are you doing here, Ryder?” I asked, stopping just short of the steps. My voice was steady, but my heart was anything but.

Torch, standing next to him, let out a low chuckle as he flicked a cigarette onto the gravel. "She’s asking like you need a reason, brother."

“I’m not asking you, Torch,” I snapped, my eyes locked on Ryder.

Ryder stepped down from the porch, his boots crunching against the gravel as he closed the distance between us. He moved like he owned the world—or at least this moment—and when he was close enough, his hand shot out, wrapping firmly around my wrist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point clear.

“You think you can walk out of my bar with him,” he said, his voice low and full of restrained heat, “after what happened between us, and I’m just going to let it slide?”

I wrenched my arm back, glaring up at him. “What happened between us doesn’t give you the right to show up here like this. You don’t own me, Ryder.”

His smirk was slow and deliberate, his grip tightening slightly before he let go. “Wrong,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You’re mine until I say otherwise. And if anyone has a problem with that, they’ll find out what happens when someone questions it.”

My breath hitched while anger and something else—something dangerous and raw—churning in my chest. “You’re unbelievable,” I snapped, stepping back to put some space between us. “You think you can just walk in here and?—”

“And remind you who you belong to?” Ryder interrupted, his smirk turning razor-sharp. He closed the distance I’d tried to put between us, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over me. “Damn right, I can.”

Caleb’s voice cut through the tension. “Delilah, everything okay?”

Ryder’s attention shifted, his head turning slightly toward Caleb, who was still standing near the car. The look Ryder gave him was enough to make my stomach twist.

“Why don’t you head out, pretty boy,” Ryder said, his voice deceptively calm but loaded with menace. “This conversation doesn’t involve you.”

Caleb hesitated, his gaze flicking to me for confirmation.

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