Page 68 of Ruger's Rage

"Fear's natural. But don't let it stop you from living, from loving, if that's where this is heading." She squeezes my hand. "I've known that boy his whole life. Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

"It's too soon."

"Sometimes time doesn't matter. The connection you two share is the only thing that matters."

I consider her words, the weight of them against my own feelings—the undeniable pull toward Ruger, the safety I feel in his presence, the way my body and heart respond to him, even with every bit of fear I have from my past.

"I'm not running anymore," I confirm. "I'm tired of letting Marco control my life from a distance."

Ellie smiles, pride shining in her eyes. "That's my girl."

Later, when Ruger returns, I'm waiting in his room—our room now, I suppose.

He looks exhausted, the strain of leadership evident in the tightness around his eyes, the weary set of his shoulders.

He shrugs off his cut, placing it on the back of his chair. "Aunt Ellie settled in okay?"

"Yeah. In the guest room down the hall." I move to him, hands reaching to ease the tension in his neck. "Thank you for taking care of her too."

He catches my wrists, pressing a kiss to each palm. "She's family. So are you now."

"I've been thinking about what that means," I tell him. "Being family. Being here with you."

His eyes search mine, hope visible in those steel blue eyes of his. "And?"

"I'm all in, Ruger. Whatever comes, wherever this leads—I'm choosing to stay, to face it with you. No more running."

The decision feels right as I say it, like setting down a burden I've carried for too long.

He pulls me against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady under my ear. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know." I tilt my face up to his. "But that's not why I'm staying. I'm staying because for the first time in years, I feel like myself again. With you. With Ellie. Even with your crazy club."

His laugh rumbles through his chest. "They are a bit much."

"Bailey especially."

His body stiffens. "What did she do?"

"Nothing Bloodhound couldn't handle." I press a kiss to his jaw. "Apparently, I'm just your current entertainment."

A growl escapes him. "I'll set her straight."

"No need. I think I'd rather show her how wrong she is."

I'm tired of being defined by fear, by what was done to me.

It's time to define myself—as a survivor, as a woman making her own choices.

As someone who might be falling for a motorcycle club president with demons of his own.

One day at a time, I remind myself as Ruger's arms tighten around me.

But for now, for tonight, I'm exactly where I want to be.

CHAPTERNINE

Ruger

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