Page 23 of Jace

My heart’s a drum, my blood roaring with the thrill of the fight, but it’s not the club driving me tonight. It’s him. Caleb.

That note—Keep your teacher close, or he’s next—lit a fire in me that won’t go out. They threatened my boy, and I’m gonna make them bleed for it…

The plan was simple: hit their weapons cache, cripple their supply, send a message.

But nothing’s simple in this life. And I meannothing.

A Viper lunges from behind a crate, his blade glinting, and I dodge, slamming my fist into his jaw.

He drops, but another’s on me, his gun raised. I tackle him, my knife finding his shoulder, and he screams, blood soaking his jacket.

I don’t stop to think, don’t feel the pain when a stray bullet grazes my arm, just keep moving, my rage a living thing.

Every hit, every bullet, is for Caleb—for the fear in his eyes when he read that note, for the way he’s tied to me now, caught in my world’s crossfire.

“Jace, left!” Arch shouts, and I spin, firing at a Viper aiming from a catwalk. He falls, crashing into a stack of crates, and I push forward, my boots slick with blood and oil.

We’re winning, the Vipers scattering, but it’s not enough.

I want their leader, Crow, the bastard who thought he could threaten what’s mine. I spot him near the back, barking orders.

I’m on him before he sees me, slamming him against the wall, my forearm crushing his throat.

“You sent that note,” I growl, my voice low, deadly. “You went after the boy. You had no fucking business doing that. There’s a code.”

Crow sneers, blood on his teeth.

“Your little schoolteacher’s fair game, Wolf,” Crow spits. “You brought him into this.”

I see red, my knife pressing against his ribs.

“He’s off-limits,” I say, each word a promise. “You come near him again, I’ll gut you myself.”

Crow laughs, a wet, choking sound, but before I can finish it, Tank’s voice cuts through.

“Jace, it’s the feds! Move out!” Tank hollers.

Sirens wail in the distance—cops, probably tipped off by the gunfire, or maybe even a rat who’s turned over to them in exchange for money or a dropped charge. Now isn’t the time to wonder though. It’s very much the time to bounce.

I shove Crow away, spitting at his feet, and sprint for the exit, my brothers covering me.

A bullet clips my shoulder, pain searing through, but I keep running, the night air hitting me like a slap as we reach our bikes.

We ride hard, the roar of engines drowning out the sirens, Willow Creek’s streets a blur.

My arm’s bleeding, a shallow graze, but I’ve had worse. What hurts more is the weight in my chest, the truth I can’t shake: this life, this war, it’s gonna destroy him if I don’t change.

Caleb’s not just a fling, not just a challenge. He’s everything, and I’m done pretending I can keep him safe while I’m neck-deep in blood.

I need out—not all the way, not yet, but enough to give him a life that doesn’t end in a body bag.

I don’t know for sure how Clay will react. Not many people leave under good terms. That’s not how we roll. But Clay’s a good man, a Wolf of honor, one of the best men I’ve ever met. I have a feeling he’ll be on board—and hell, he knows a thing or two about finding a boy so good it makes you question everything.

I’m about to go to the clubhouse but I get a text from one of the Riders to say that Caleb has been escorted back to his apartment—apparently this is where he feels safest, and I’m not about to debate that either.

I don’t waste a single second.

I head straight for Caleb, my bike tearing through the pre-dawn streets to his apartment.

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