Page 30 of Savage Loyalty

Crimson Reapers.

Axel’s head snapped toward the door, his body instantly tensing, his sharp gaze narrowing as if he could see them through the walls. His fingers flexed at his sides like he was already bracing for a fight, his jaw tightening in a way that made the anger simmering beneath his calm all too obvious.

“They’re watching,” Axel muttered, his voice low, like he didn’t want to say it out loud.

“I know,” I replied, my voice steady, though my heart was pounding in my chest. Of course, they were watching. They hadn’t exactly been subtle about it. Their presence had been a constant weight on my shoulders, an unspoken threat hanging in the air since the Crimson Reapers first crossed that threshold.

Axel didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. He took a step toward the door, his broad frame casting long shadows in the pale morning light streaming through the window. The growl of Ryder Kane’s bike cut through the chorus of engines, distinct and deliberate, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

That sound—it was unmistakable. And it made my pulse quicken in a way I hated.

Axel turned back to me, his expression dark and unreadable. “Stay here,” he ordered, his voice clipped and firm, each word laced with an authority that brooked no argument.

“Like hell I will,” I snapped, stepping forward to meet his intensity. My voice was sharper now, the frustration bubbling to the surface like a dam about to break. “This is my house. You don’t get to?—”

“It’s not about what you want,” Axel interrupted, spinning to face me fully. His frustration had boiled over, his words cutting through the room like a blade. “They’re not here for you—they’re here because of me. Let me deal with it.”

His words were harsh, but I could see the flicker of something softer beneath the surface—fear, not for himself, but for me. He wouldn’t admit it, not in a million years, but it was there, buried beneath the anger and the frustration.

I clenched my fists, the anger and helplessness twisting together in my chest, burning hotter with every second. Before I could argue further, Axel swung the door open with a force that made it rattle on its hinges.

His boots thudded heavily against the porch as he stepped outside, his brothers following close behind him like sentinels. Their faces were set in hard, unyielding lines, their stances rigid and ready for whatever was about to come.

And just beyond the driveway, the Crimson Reapers rolled to a stop.

Their bikes formed a loose semicircle, chrome, and leather gleaming under the dull morning light. Ryder dismounted first, his movements slow and deliberate, every step a statement, an assertion of dominance. He didn’t need to say anything—his presence alone was enough to set the air crackling with tension.

The other Reapers followed, their hands hovering near their weapons, their eyes sharp and unyielding. Every movement was calculated and deliberate. A warning.

Ryder’s sharp gaze swept over the porch, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes landed on Axel. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t even remotely neutral. If anything, it was a challenge.

“Cruz,” Ryder drawled, his voice low and laced with menace. “Didn’t think we’d run into each other so soon.”

Axel stepped down from the porch, his boots crunching against the gravel as he closed the distance between them. He stopped just shy of Ryder, his shoulders squared, his stance solid and unyielding. “Not here for a reunion, Kane. What do you want?”

Ryder chuckled, the sound low and humorless, his sharp eyes never leaving Axel’s. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Funny how your bikes always seem to lead back here.”

From my spot just inside the doorway, I felt the weight of their confrontation pressing down on me like a vice. Every word, every look between them was a loaded gun waiting to go off.

But the truth was, this wasn’t just about Axel.

It was about me, too. Whether I wanted it to be or not.

The roar of the Vipers’ engines filled the air as they pulled away, their retreat a sharp contrast to the Reapers’ unwavering presence. Gravel crunched underfoot as Axel and his crew disappeared down the road, leaving only the lingering echo of their bikes and the tension they’d dragged through the morning like a storm.

Ryder didn’t move. He stayed rooted where he was, his sharp gaze lingering on me long after the Vipers were out of sight. The others stood back, their postures relaxed but watchful, every one of them waiting for Ryder’s signal. But Ryder wasn’t paying them any attention. His focus was on me, and the weight of his stare sent a chill crawling up my spine.

“You okay there, kitten?” he asked, his tone light, almost playful, but with that edge I was starting to associate with him. Something darker, something dangerous.

I clenched my fists, glaring at him as a flush crept up my neck. “Don’t call me that,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rough like he’d expected my reaction and was already bored with it. “You’re going to have to get used to it,” he said, the smirk tugging at his lips, making my stomach twist in a way I hated.

“I don’t have to get used to anything,” I shot back, stepping forward, my voice steady despite the knot tightening in my chest. “And I don’t need you showing up here like you own the place.”

Ryder tilted his head slightly, studying me with an infuriating calm that only added fuel to the fire burning under my skin. “Maybe not, but I think you’ve figured out by now that what I do isn’t up to you.”

The nerve of him. The sheer, unshakable audacity sent a spark of anger through me that made my blood boil. “You’re wasting your time if you think I’m just going to roll over and let you dictate how this goes,” I said, my voice low but laced with venom.

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