Page 13 of Axle
“You’re not going anywhere,” I repeated, gentler now but no less sure. “Not until I know what the fuck is going on. You’re being hunted, angel. You’ll stay here. Protected. Guarded.”
“By who?”
“By me. You’re under my protection now.”
Her throat worked. She glanced at the ceiling like it was easier than looking at me. “I won’t be the reason someone gets hurt.”
“You won’t be,” I said. “But if someone tries to hurt you, I’ll be the reason they bleed.”
The soft rhythm of boots and the low-aired murmur of men who know how to talk without being heard came from the hall. I grabbed a burner phone from the dresser, put my number in it, then dropped it on the nightstand in reach, before moving to the door. “Call or text me if you need anything. Now sleep.”
She spoke just as my hand found the handle.
“Mason?”
I looked back. “Yeah?”
“If I tell you my name tomorrow, will you…will you still mean it?”
I stared at her for a moment. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. ”
Then I turned to leave, easing the door shut behind me.
Kane was already outside the door, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and a look that said he’d been listening for longer than he let on.
He didn’t move when I stepped out, but his green eyes cut over me, catching every line and all my tension. His cut sat easy across his shoulders, his ink dark under the hall light. If a hurricane learned to walk, it would look like him.
Not many dared to fuck with Kane. Those who did quickly learned why he had a reputation for being merciless to anyone who crossed him. He was a brilliant businessman, and he’d built a racing empire that had made him a fucking billionaire. He was also a world-class driver. A legend. His sharp reflexes, calm dominance, and the way he operated with brutal precision made him lethal in every aspect of his life—the boardroom, the track, and the president of the Redline Kings.
But more than anything, it was the way he valued loyalty and brotherhood that earned him the place as our leader. When we patched, we took an oath to follow him. And I would never break it…unless he ordered me to let my angel go.
He nodded once. “Let’s talk.”
I paused, jaw tight.
He tipped his chin, already a step ahead. “Prospect’s posted at the end of the hall. No one crosses this line without your say-so. From the hall,” he added, the corner of his mouth ticking when my eyes narrowed. “Nobody’s stepping through that door unless it’s you, me, or Cage.”
I stared him down. “No one touches her.”
“I gathered,” he said dryly.
“She’s mine,” I added quietly, the truth settling deep into my chest like a brand.
His gaze didn’t waver. If he disapproved or wanted to make a point about brothers and oversight, I would’ve heard it in that silent beat. Instead, he folded his arms and let the quiet stretch until it felt like a pact.
“Then you keep her alive.” The understanding in his eyes could only come from a man who knew what it was like to be driven by possession and the deep need to protect what was ours.
I nodded.
He turned as I fell into step beside him as we moved down the corridor, two heavy shadows in a hallway full of pictures that told a thousand stories about speed, blood, and wins earned the hard way.
When we rounded the corner, the prospect at the end of the hall straightened reflexively at the sight of Kane, his eyes cutting to me for a split second to make sure I wasn’t about to end his career.
I stopped in front of him, and he went stock-still, swallowing hard.
“You step two inches over that threshold without me telling you to,” I growled, my voice flat as a steel plate, “I’ll break your fucking wrist and feed your bike to my shredder.”
“Yes, sir,” he practically wheezed. “Won’t move, sir.”
