Page 67 of Savage Loyalty

By the time the knock sounded at the door, I was already bracing myself. When I opened it, Axel’s scowl deepened as his eyes met mine. He didn’t wait for an invitation, pushing past me into the house like he owned the place.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snapped, slamming the door shut behind him.

Axel turned to face me, his eyes blazing. “You’re asking me that? After last night? Jesus Christ, Delilah. You're back in town one fucking night, and the Reapers attack us and kill my brothers.

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "What are you even talking about, Axel? None of that has anything to do with me."

Axel’s face twisted with rage, and for a moment, I thought he might hit me. But then he took a step back, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “This isn’t just about you, Delilah. It’s about the Vipers. It’s about loyalty. That kid you’re carrying? Ryder’s kid? That’s a goddamn liability.”

“Don’t you dare,” I snapped, stepping closer until we were eye to eye. “Don’t you dare talk about my child like that. This has nothing to do with the Vipers or the Reapers or whatever bullshit turf war you’re still clinging to. This is my life. My baby. And you don’t get a say.”

Axel sneered, his eyes narrowing. “You think Ryder’s going to protect you? Do you think he’s going to protect that kid? You’re fooling yourself if you believe that. He’ll use you just like he uses everyone else. And when the time comes, he’ll choose his club over you. Every. Damn. Time.”

“And what about you?” I shot back, my voice shaking with fury. “What have you ever chosen, Axel? The Vipers? Dad? The club that’s turned you into a bitter, paranoid asshole? Don’t lecture me about loyalty when you’ve spent your entire life hiding behind Dad’s shadow.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was heavy, charged with years of resentment and unspoken truths. Axel’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.

“This isn’t over,” he said finally, his voice cold. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Delilah. And if you’re not careful, you’re going to get burned. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I didn’t flinch, meeting his glare with one of my own. “Get out of my house,” I said, my voice low and firm. “And don’t come back.”

Axel stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and strode out the door, slamming it shut behind him. I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of his words settling over me like a storm cloud.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, closing my eyes as I tried to steady my breathing. “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered, more to myself than to the baby. “We’re going to be okay.”

But as the sound of Axel’s motorcycle faded into the distance, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were far from okay.

The silence after Axel’s departure was deafening. I stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the door as if he might storm back in at any moment. The tension in the air was suffocating, and I couldn’t stop replaying his words in my head.

The house felt smaller like the walls were closing in. Every corner seemed to hold a ghost of the past: my father’s booming laugh at the dining table, the scrape of his boots across the floor after a long day. I’d thought coming back here would bring some kind of comfort, but all it did was remind me of everything I’d tried to leave behind.

I turned and walked to the kitchen, my bare feet padding softly against the worn wood floor. The house was too quiet, too still. I reached for a glass of water, my hands trembling slightly as I filled it from the tap. Taking a deep breath, I leaned against the counter, letting the coolness of the glass soothe my frayed nerves.

Memories of Axel’s words mingled with thoughts of Ryder, forming a chaotic tangle that I couldn’t seem to unravel. Axel’s accusations weren’t new, but they hit differently now. Maybe because, deep down, I knew there was some truth to them. Ryder would always choose the Reapers. That was who he was, who he’d always been. And yet, I’d come back. I’d come back knowing all of this.

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside drew my attention to the window. I stared out at the yard, the sunlight filtering through the branches, casting dappled patterns on the grass. For a moment, I let myself imagine a different life—one where there were no clubs, no wars, no betrayals. Just me, Ryder, and the baby, living somewhere quiet and safe.

But that wasn’t reality. And it never would be.

I set the glass down with a clink and ran a hand through my hair. There was no use dwelling on what couldn’t be. I needed to focus on what I could control. And right now, that meant figuring out how to keep myself and my child safe, no matter what.

As the morning stretched on, the weight of Axel’s visit lingered, a constant reminder of the precarious situation I was in. The lines between loyalty and survival were blurring, and I wasn’t sure where I stood anymore. But one thing was certain: I wasn’t going to let anyone dictate my life. Not Axel. Not Ryder. Not anyone.

By mid-afternoon, I’d begun to unpack the few belongings I’d brought with me, trying to make the house feel less empty. The air still felt heavy, but the motion helped. I paused as I reached for an old box tucked into the corner, its edges worn and taped over multiple times. My chest tightened as I pulled it closer, hesitating before lifting the lid.

Inside were remnants of a life long gone: a faded recipe book, an old scarf that still faintly smelled of her perfume, and a stack of photographs bound together with a rubber band. I slid the photos free, my fingers brushing over the edges as I flipped through them.

One picture caught my eye: my parents standing in front of this house. Mom was smiling, her arm looped through Dad’s, while he looked off to the side, distracted. I stared at it for a long time, the image stirring something bittersweet in me. They’d had their own battles, their own secrets, but for a time, this house had been filled with love—or at least the illusion of it.

As I held the photograph, another memory surged forward, unbidden and vivid. It was the day I packed to leave for college. I was seventeen, and my room in this same house was a whirlwind of clothes and boxes. Mom was hovering in the doorway, her arms crossed as she tried to keep her composure.

“You’re really going to leave?” she’d asked, her voice wavering. “Hollow Ridge is your home, Delilah. Are you sure about this?”

I’d stuffed another shirt into my suitcase, refusing to meet her eyes. “I need to get out of here, Mom. I need a fresh start.”

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Your father’s not going to like this.”

“Dad doesn’t like anything that isn’t his idea,” I’d snapped, the bitterness in my voice surprising even me. “This is my chance to make something of myself, to get away from all this… chaos.”

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