Page 20 of Jace

The club’s my life, my family, but Caleb’s becoming something bigger, something I can’t lose.

I kiss him one more time, then grab my shirt and head for the door, the weight of my jacket heavy on my shoulders.

As I step into the night, the roar of my bike waiting, I feel it—the pull of two worlds tearing me apart.

The club’s calling for blood, but Caleb’s calling for my heart. And for the first time, I’m not sure which one I’ll choose…

Chapter 8

Caleb

“Argh,” I say. “I hate this. Hate, hate, stupidhate.”

I can’t sit still.

I’m all fidgety and on edge.

My apartment feels like a cage, the walls closing in as I pace the living room, my bare feet cold against the hardwood.

Jace’s scent—leather, smoke, and him—still lingers on my skin, but so does the memory of his face when he left, all hard edges and urgency.

“Club emergency,” he said, and the way his voice tightened told me it was bad.

Worse than the crash outside my window.

Worse than the tension at the clubhouse party.

The Iron Vipers are out there, and Jace is walking right into their crosshairs… for me, for his club, for a life I’m only starting to understand. And I’m terrified I’ll lose him before I can figure out what Jace and me could be together.

It’s been hours since he left, the clock ticking past three a.m., and my phone’s silent…

No texts, no calls, just the echo of his last words:Stay here, lock the door.

I’ve tried to distract myself—grading papers, brewing tea, even rereadingPersuasion—but nothing works.

My mind’s a whirlwind of fear and need, replaying our night together, the way his hands claimed me, his voice calling me his boy.

I’m in love with him. There’s no avoiding that any longer.

I know it now, the truth settling heavy in my chest. It’s reckless, irrational, but it’s real. And if my Daddy is in danger, I can’t just sit here, waiting for a call that might never come…

I grab my keys, my heart pounding. I’m going to the clubhouse. It’s crazy—stupid, even—but I need to see him, to know he’s okay.

I pull on jeans, a sweater, and my sneakers, my hands shaking as I lock the door behind me.

The night air is sharp, the streets of Willow Creek quiet except for the distant hum of a car or two in the distance.

My old Civic sputters to life, and I drive, the clubhouse’s address burned into my memory from the party. It’s a risk, walking into the Wolf Rider’s den uninvited, but fear for Jace outweighs the fear of what I’ll find…

“Here goes,” I say, wary but knowing that I’ve come too far to turn back now. “Just pretend it’s that terrible class from two years ago…”

The clubhouse looms at the edge of town, a hulking warehouse surrounded by a chain-link fence, bikes lined up like sentinels.

The neon sign flickers, casting an eerie glow, and the thump of music is gone, replaced by shouted voices and the rev of engines.

My stomach twists as I park, spotting a group of bikers near the entrance, their faces grim under the floodlights.

This isn’t a party anymore—it’s a war zone.

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