Page 29 of Reaper's Justice
"They've breached the outer gate," Blade calls through the door. "Two minutes tops."
"On my way," Jackson responds. He turns to me, his expression deadly serious. "Wilder will take you to the safe room. Stay thereuntil I come for you. No matter what you hear, do not leave that room. Understand?"
"Yes."
He cups my face in his massive hand, his touch gentle given the circumstances. "This will be over quickly. Then we finish our conversation about your future."
"Promise?" I hate how small my voice sounds, how needy.
"Promise." He kisses me hard, a swift clash of lips and teeth that leaves me breathless. "Now go."
Wilder is waiting in the hallway, a shotgun cradled in his massive arms. He nods at me, then at Jackson. "Ready when you are, boss."
Jackson gives my shoulder one last squeeze before his entire demeanor shifts. His posture straightens, his eyes go cold, his jaw sets in a hard line. In an instant, he transforms from Jackson back into Reaper, the man enemies fear.
"Take care of her," he orders Wilder. "No one gets past you."
"Understood," Wilder replies.
I follow Wilder down a hallway I haven't seen before, away from the main area of the clubhouse. Behind us, I hear Jackson—no, Reaper now—barking orders to his men. The sounds of preparation echo through the building: weapons being loaded, furniture being moved to create barricades, communications being established.
"In here," Wilder says, opening a heavy metal door that looks like it belongs in a bank vault. "Panic room. Reinforced steel, separate ventilation, communications, supplies for days if needed."
I step inside, surprised by the relatively comfortable space. There's a small couch, a desk with monitors showing security camera feeds, a mini-fridge, and what looks like a bathroom through another door.
"You'll be safe here," Wilder assures me, his voice gentler than I would have expected from a man his size. "Reaper knows what he's doing. These Vultures MC aren't the first to try us, and they won't be the last."
I nod, clutching the gun Jackson gave me. "Will you stay?"
"Guarding this door," he confirms. "No one gets through me."
The conviction in his voice is oddly comforting coming from a man that’s clearly years younger than Jackson. He steps back, preparing to close the heavy door.
"Wilder," I say quickly. "Keep him safe. Please."
"Always do. Always will."
The door closes with a definitive thunk, locks engaging automatically. I'm alone in the silence, with only the muted visual feeds of the security cameras to show me what's happening outside.
I watch as Reaper positions his men strategically throughout the compound. Their movements are coordinated, professional, like they've done this a hundred times before. Maybe they have.
On one screen, I see vehicles approaching. Vultures MC, coming to reclaim their "property." Coming for me. Coming to take what was taken from them.
I should be terrified. A part of me is. But another part—a newer, stronger part—feels something else entirely. These men picked the wrong MC to fuck with. They picked the wrong woman to try to reclaim.
For the first time in my life, someone is fighting for me. And not just anyone, a man who promised me a future just minutes ago.
I settle onto the couch, gun ready in my lap, eyes fixed on the monitors as the first shots are fired. Whatever happens in the next few minutes, I know one thing for certain:
I believe him. I believe in the future he promised.
And God help anyone who tries to take it from me.
Chapter 9 - Reaper
I feel the change happen the moment Ghost delivers the news.
One second I'm Jackson—a man making promises to a woman who's awakened something in me I thought long dead. The next, I'm Reaper—President of the Outlaw Order MC, the man enemies pray they never meet.
