Page 51 of Unhinged
Silence stretches. Finally, Ike grumbles, rubbing his temple. “Fine. But you make damn sure no one lays a fucking finger on her.”
I smirk. “She’ll make sure of that herself, I’m sure.”
Ike mutters something under his breath, but doesn’t argue. “I want you all to have my number and any hint of trouble, you call me. I’ll be there ASAP. Otherwise, I’ll stay here and keep my eyes open. Let you know if I see or hear anything.”
“I’ll call one of the prospects to get out here with the van and trailer,” I say, my mind already working.
Arrow raises an eyebrow, glancing over at me. “Call Keg. He’s been around long enough to handle this without screwing it up.”
Acid nods, cracking his knuckles. “Yeah, Keg’s solid. He’s still proving himself, but he knows the drill. He’ll get it done.”
Arrow claps a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get our girl home.”
Our girl. Our Kismet. Our deadly, broken, beautiful omega.
And God help anyone who tries to take her from us again.
A few hours later, Keg pulls into the driveway in the Sprinter van, the flatbed trailer behind it, with his bike secured on the back. He slows to a stop, his heavy boots hitting the gravel with a thud as he steps out, already nodding toward us.
He’s one of the prospects who’s worked his ass off to get to this point, still earning his place, but proving he’s got the guts to stand with us. And right now, his loyalty is undeniable.
I watch as the van’s doors swing open, the cool night air rushing in. We move fast, no time to waste.
Acid’s the first to move, quickly jumping to load our bikes onto the trailer. He handles them like they’re an extension of himself, securing each one with practiced ease.
When the bikes are secured, I don’t hesitate. I walk into the house and to Brydgett’s room, kneeling beside the bed where she’s lying. She’s too fucking fragile like this. She’s tough—fierce and independent. Seeing her like this, helpless, it twists my gut.
Her scent’s off. It’s still there, but faint, muted. Stunted by meds and pain. No jasmine. No orange. Just something flat and wrong that makes my instincts coil.
It doesn’t smell likeours. It doesn’t smell likeher.
And I hate it.
I slide my arms under her, lifting her carefully. My chest tightens as I feel the weight of her in my arms, not just her physical form, but the responsibility we all share for her. OurKismet. She’s ours to protect, and nobody’s going to take that away.
We move quickly, my heart racing with every step. Acid’s ready to help me lay her down on the gurney we’ve got for emergency situations. We strap her in tight, making sure the IV is still hooked up right.
Ike steps inside, his face grim. He checks the IV, the machine beeping softly as it pumps life into her veins. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “Give ’em hell, kid,” he murmurs, the words thick with something I can’t quite place. It’s not just fatherly concern—it’s the weight of someone who’s watched over her through thick and thin.
Ike stands back up, his eyes hardening. He pulls out his phone, tossing it to Judge, who’s beside me. “Here. Brand-new iPhone for you,” Ike says, his tone lighter now. “Your mom’s gonna have my ass for giving you this, but if you need anything, you call. If you want to talk, you call. You need me to come get you, or if you need someone dead, you call. I put Jackie’s and my number in there. I love you, boy.”
Judge’s lips twitch, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he takes the phone. “I love you too, Grandpa Ike.”
With that, Ike steps back, clapping his hands once, his face returning to a no-nonsense expression. “Alright. Get moving.”
I climb behind the wheel of the van, feeling the familiar weight of control fall over me. Acid slides into the passenger seat, his eyes scanning the area. Arrow takes one of the seats on the sidewall, next to Judge.
The van starts up, the engine growling to life as I shift into gear. Ike gives me one last wave as I check my side mirror. Keg pulls his bike out from behind the trailer, revving the engine with a roar as he falls in line behind us.
We hit the road, the familiar rhythm of the ride settling over us. The weight of Brydgett, of everything that’s happened, hangsheavy, but we’re a team. We’ll keep her safe. We’ll make sure the bastards who hurt her pay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
BRYDGETT
I wake up to unfamiliar surroundings. The smell hits me first, thick and rich, like someone bathed in a vat of plums and sandalwood. It’s an oddly pleasant mix, but not one I’m used to. My breath hitches as my mind scrambles to make sense of where the hell I am.
I blink, trying to shake off the haze. The room is dimly lit, soft light filtering through curtains I don’t recognize. The bed beneath me is too soft, too damn comfortable. My side aches with a dull throb, a sharp reminder of what happened. I wince as I sit up, instinctively pressing a hand to my ribs.
