Page 78 of Savage Loyalty

The Vipers filed out, their boots heavy on the floor. Cruz lingered for a moment, his gaze flicking back toward the hallway where Delilah was resting. “She better make it through this, Ryder,” he said quietly. “Because if she doesn’t, no truce in the world will stop what comes next.”

“She’ll make it,” I said firmly, meeting his eyes. “Count on it.”

Cruz nodded once, then turned and followed his men out into the night. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the weight of the night pressing down on me. The fight with the Serpents might have been over, but the war was far from won.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DELILAH

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the scent. Ryder’s scent. It clung to the sheets, the pillows, the air itself—a mix of leather, smoke, and something purely him. It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

For days, I’d been holed up in Ryder’s room, trying to piece myself back together after everything that had happened. The bruises were fading, but the memories weren’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes—the Serpents’ compound, the cold steel of the chains, the sound of gunfire. And then Ryder, bursting through the door like a goddamn hurricane, his eyes wild, his voice raw as he swore he’d never let anything happen to me again.

He kept that promise. I was here, alive, and so was the baby. But as I stared at the ceiling, listening to the muffled roar of engines outside the clubhouse, I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.

Ryder was seated in the corner, his chair tilted back against the wall, one booted foot resting on the other knee. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep. He was too tense for that. His gun sat on the table beside him, never far from reach.

“Ryder,” I said softly.

His eyes snapped open instantly, locking onto mine. For a moment, the tension in his body eased, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Kitten,” he murmured, his voice rough from disuse. “How are you feeling?”

I hesitated, unsure how to answer. Physically, I was healing. The doc said the baby was strong and that I was lucky. But emotionally? Mentally? I felt like I was standing on a cliff’s edge, the ground crumbling beneath me.

“I’m… here,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

He frowned, rising to his feet and crossing the room in a few quick strides. His presence was overwhelming, but I didn’t pull away when he perched on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“That’s not an answer,” he said, his tone softer now.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “I don’t know how to answer.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away for a moment, his hand falling to his lap. “I hate seeing you like this,” he admitted, his voice low. “If I could trade places with you…”

“You can’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. “You can’t fix this, Ryder. You can’t undo what happened. And I—” My voice broke, and I sucked in a shaky breath, willing myself not to cry.

His hand found mine, his grip firm but not demanding. “Talk to me,” he urged. “Tell me what you need.”

I closed my eyes, gathering the courage to say what I’d been avoiding since the moment he’d brought me back here. “I need to know what happens next. Not with the Serpents, or the Vipers, or any of the other shit outside that door. I need to know what happens to us. With this baby?”

His silence was deafening. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, his brows drawn together in a frown.

“You want to know what happens next?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled.

“Yes,” I said, meeting his gaze head-on. “Because I can’t keep pretending this is enough. I can’t raise a baby in a place where danger is always lurking, where the sound of engines and gunfire is part of daily life. This baby deserves more than a bed in an MC compound, Ryder. And so do I.”

The words hung between us like a guillotine, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out, that his temper would flare the way it always did when he was cornered. But instead, he leaned back slightly, his hand running through his hair as he exhaled a long, unsteady breath.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

“You know?” I repeated, the weight of his admission catching me off guard.

“I know this life isn’t what you want,” he said, his gaze fixed on the floor. “It’s not what you deserve. But it’s all I’ve ever known, Kitten. It’s who I am.”

I reached out, my fingers brushing against his. “I’m not asking you to leave the Crimson Reapers, Ryder. I know what this club means to you. I’m asking you to think about who we could be. Together. For this baby.”

His head lifted, his eyes meeting mine. For the first time since I’d known him, he looked vulnerable. Lost.

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