Page 63 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

Chapter Eighteen

Saffie

The only time I’d ever had an opportunity to discover myself as a person was in that brief interlude between leaving my ex-husband and being ensnared by Duke. I’d gone from protective parents to my first marriage and moulded myself into the role of a perfect wife.

When I got free of the Crazy Wolves compound, or ex-compound to be correct—there’s not much left of it now—all I wanted to do was escape and be me and leave the world of bikers behind. With Duke dead, I could have a fresh start, a new life with no one coming after me.

That I was considered Niran’s old lady terrifies me. But if it wasn’t for Niran, I’d be living a living death.

It wasn’t Grumbler who’d persuaded me to stay, it had been a number of things. Surprisingly, it was the appearance of the dogs that had cleared my mind. They’d followed me, escaped the compound which had been as much of a prison to them as it had to me. Their trust in probably the only person to show them compassion had healed something inside me.

Niran wasn’t the enemy, and he’d never been. I’d realised, despite my earlier misgivings that Niran had lied to me, that I was only rescued because he had orchestrated things so he wasn’t going to be separated from me. That knowledge was the start of making me have doubts about whether I could just up and leave him. But when I’d seen how broken he was, knowing it was because he’d followed me to the Wolves’ lair, well, what person could walk away?

He’d still deceived me, just like everyone else. I wasn’t totally sure I’d ever fully trust him, but I felt I owed him to stay.

Niran already only has one leg, and now that’s badly damaged, so much so, when I’d seen what was left of it, I’d turned away, wondering how it could ever be saved.

“He begged me to save his foot,” a man the others call Preacher stated.

“He unconscious?” Grumbler asked, crouching down at his brother’s side.

“Nah. I gave him some morphine, it’s knocked him out. Moving him is going to be a bitch.”

“Can his foot be saved?”

Again, Preacher answered Grumbler. “Just look at it. It will need a fuckin’ miracle now.”

My stomach had roiled. Niran could be totally disabled. And all because of me. His sacrifice could be too great, I owed him more than I could ever repay. Grumbler had been right. He needed me.

It was a strange turnaround. From the day we first met, I’d needed him. Needed a friend to lean on, needed his support, without him there’d have been no rescue. Now the tables have turned. In his state, he’s nothing to offer me, but perhaps I’ve something to offer him? Something his brothers can’t give. With them he’d need to be strong, with me, I’d allow him to be weak.

I had been trapped in my first marriage. I’d been literally imprisoned by Duke. I know what it’s like to be unable to see a way out or to map a path forward.

Niran’s not caged by a person but held captive by his own body. His active mind, his desire for action, restricted by physical limits.

I know what it means to have your life constrained, and just maybe I could help him through. Instead of being a dutiful daughter or a trophy wife, maybe for once I could be useful.

Niran would never hurt me. I know that deep in my bones.

Those thoughts were what had made me insist on accompanying him on his life flight, and my insistence, to Grumbler’s obvious surprise, that I was his old lady.

There’s a fight going on inside myself. One part is screaming I don’t want to be around men wearing cuts, the other reminding me I’m alive because bikers had rescued me. The paradox has me on edge.

I don’t understand myself, why I don’t take the opportunity and leave, but how could I leave such a broken man? When I was shattered in pieces, he’d been there for me.

I couldn’t walk away from him. Not now. And, if I’m honest, as much as I’m here for Niran, I’m here for me. He seems like a lifeline, an anchor I still need, even though I could be free.

I’d been given a room in a hotel close by and hadn’t thought about him being discharged or what that would mean for us. I’d been taken aback when the doctor had put it so starkly that he’d be confined to a wheelchair. Duh, I suppose I should have expected that, but I thought he’d have been kept in longer until he recovered.

I’d been living in a bubble. One where I met bikers who’d come in to see Niran, or who’d spent their time in the waiting room, hanging around to be there for him. Some I knew from San Diego, others were from the local chapter.

But tomorrow he’s being let out and has been offered accommodation at the Utah clubhouse.

Hell no. I can’t do that. Even temporarily the thought causes my heart to beat faster and my palms to sweat. My brain associates bikers with the Crazy Wolves, and I’m not sure anything will ever be able to counteract it.

I had listened outwardly calmly to Bolt’s description of what the Utah chapter does, finding it at odds with anything I would expect. Their connection to the Freedom Trail who’d gotten me away from Duke was completely unexpected. I suspected from prior discussions with Patsy that the Devils had had some hand in my getting away, but didn’t know it had been Utah, nor the extent of their involvement.

I was shocked to hear the clear regard he has for their female member, and then again in a different way when he confides Cat’s condition to me and the sympathy in his eyes. It hurts that everyone knows what I’ve done, but there was no judgement there.

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