Page 21 of Jace

I take a deep breath, channeling the courage that got me through Jace’s world before, and step out, my sneakers crunching on gravel.

A burly biker—Arch, I think—spots me, his brow furrowing.

“What the hell you doing here?” Arch growls, but there’s no malice, just confusion. “This ain’t a good time, boy.”

“I need to see Jace,” I say, my voice way steadier than I feel. “Please. Is he here?”

Arch hesitates, glancing at the clubhouse, then back at me.

“He’s inside, but shit’s going down,” Arch growls. “You sure you wanna walk into this?”

“I’m sure,” I lie, my heart hammering. I’m not sure of anything, but I can’t turn back now.

Arch sighs, jerking his head toward the door.

“Your funeral, kid,” Arch grumbles. “Stay close.”

I follow him inside, the clubhouse a stark contrast to the party’s chaos.

The air’s thick with cigarette smoke and tension, the tables cluttered with maps, guns, and empty beer bottles.

Bikers are everywhere, some barking orders, others loading weapons, their faces set hard and brooding.

My eyes scan the room, desperate for Jace, and I find him near the bar, talking to Razor, his posture rigid, his hand gripping a knife.

He looks like a warrior, all muscle and menace, but when his eyes meet mine, they widen, shock cutting through the steel.

“Caleb?” Jace’s voice carries over the noise, and he’s across the room in seconds, his hands on my shoulders, searching my face. “What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay put. And it wasn’t a polite request either, boy.”

“I couldn’t,” I say, my voice breaking as I grip his jacket, the leather rough under my fingers. “You left, and I was so scared, Jace. I needed to know you’re okay.”

His jaw tightens, but his eyes soften, and he pulls me into his arms, crushing me against his chest.

“You’re crazy, boy,” Jace murmurs, his voice rough with something that sounds like awe. “Fucking crazy as hell. What were you thinking coming here?”

I cling to him, breathing in his scent, the solid warmth of him grounding me.

“I love you, Daddy,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them, raw and desperate. “I couldn’t stay away.”

Jace freezes, then pulls back, cupping my face, his eyes searching mine.

“Say that again,” Jace says, his voice low, commanding, that Daddy Dom edge making my pulse race. “Word for word.”

“I love you, Daddy,” I repeat, louder this time, my fear giving way to certainty. “I’m terrified. I don’t know what the hell is going on. But I know I love you, Jace.”

He kisses me, hard and fierce, like he’s claiming my words, my heart, everything. I feel my knees buckling and I fall into him, my hands fisting his shirt, the chaos of the clubhouse fading to nothing.

Jace’s lips are demanding, his hands possessive, one sliding to my waist, the other tangling in my hair, guiding me like he always does.

It’s desperate, emotional, a promise that we’re in this together, no matter what. I feel his strength, his need, and I give it back, letting him lead, trusting him completely.

Jace pulls back, his forehead against mine, his breath ragged.

“I love you too, Caleb,” Jace says, and it’s like the world shifts, the weight of his words anchoring me. “Fuck, I didn’t want this to happen, but I do. You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go. And I don’t give a damn who knows it.”

I nod, tears pricking my eyes, but before I can speak, Razor’s voice cuts through.

“Jace, this is all charming and all, but we’ve got a problem,” Razor says. He’s holding a crumpled note, his face grim, and the air shifts, heavy with dread.

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