Page 24 of Jace

The boy’s there, waiting, because I texted him to stay put after I left the clubhouse. The door’s barely open before he’s in my arms, his hands frantic as he checks me over, his eyes wide with fear.

“Daddy, you’re hurt,” Caleb gasps, his fingers brushing the blood on my arm, the tear in my shirt.

“I’m fine,” I say, pulling him close, my voice rough with everything I’m feeling.

Caleb’s apartment’s warm, soft, a haven from the chaos I just left. He’s in a t-shirt and shorts, and he’s never looked more beautiful, even with worry etched into his face.

“It’s over, boy. For now,” I say, my heart thumping inside my chest, a shot of pain coursing over my aching body.

Caleb pulls back, searching my eyes.

“What happened? The Vipers… did you…?”

“We hit ‘em,” I say, keeping it vague. He doesn’t need the details, the blood, the bodies. “They won’t come near you again. I made sure of it.”

Caleb’s hands tremble, but he nods, trusting me, and it’s like a knife to my gut.

He shouldn’t have to trust me with this, shouldn’t have to live with this fear. I cup his face, my thumbs brushing his cheeks, and the words spill out, raw and real.

“I’m done with the worst of it, Caleb,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “The club’s my family, but you’re my future. I’m stepping back. Whether Clay likes it or not. I’ve done my time. Less blood, less war. For you. For us.”

Caleb’s eyes widen, tears shimmering.

“Jace, you don’t have to—” Caleb says, his voice wobbling.

“Ido,” I say, cutting him off, fierce but gentle. “I love you, and I’m not losing you to this life. You’re mine, and that means I protect you, even from me.”

Caleb surges forward, kissing me, his lips desperate and hungry, and I’m lost in him, the taste of him, the feel of his body against mine.

I lift him, carrying him to the couch, our kiss deepening, my hands roaming his back, his thighs, his juicy ass, claiming every inch.

Caleb’s hands tug at my shirt, and I let him pull it off, ignoring the sting of my wounds.

“You’re mine,” I say, my hand sliding to his hip, possessive but careful, always checking his eyes for trust. “Always.”

“Always,” Caleb whispers, his voice a vow, and we’re a tangle of need, his nails digging into my shoulders, my lips finding his again.

It’s raw, passionate, our bodies pressed close, but I hold back, keeping it from going too far.

Caleb’s giving me everything, and I’m not taking more than he’s ready for, not tonight. It’s been a lot for the boy to deal with. He might think he’s tough, but he’s notthattough.

We slow, breathless, his head resting against my chest, my arms around him.

“We can build a life together,” I say, my cock as hard as the pain shooting through my shoulder. “But I’m definitely stepping back from the Riders.”

“You mean it?” Caleb asks, his voice soft, vulnerable. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I say, kissing his forehead. “I can’t leave the club… they’re my brothers. But I’m done with the frontline shit. I’ll talk to Clay, work protection runs, logistics, something that keeps me alive for you.”

“Will Clay let you?” Caleb asks, hope in his voice.

“He won’t have a choice,” I laugh. “Me and Clay have been through some shit together. He knows I’m good on my word. And he knows that I’ll always been an ally… as long as he respects me.”

Caleb nods, his fingers tracing the tattoos on my chest, and I feel it—the shift, the choice I’ve made. It’s not easy, not clean, but it’s right.

The club’s been my life, but Caleb’s my reason now. I hold him tighter, the quiet of his apartment a stark contrast to the warehouse’s violence, and I know this is where I belong.

But even as we lie there, his heartbeat steady against mine, I can’t shake the nagging truth: the Vipers aren’t done.

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