Page 19 of Phoenix's Rising
"Will you ask the Savage Riders for help?"
"No." The answer is immediate, certain. "Carter will offer the second I tell him what's happening. Probably won't even wait for me to finish explaining before he's promising to bring King and the whole club. But I won't accept."
"Why not?" I lean forward slightly. "You said the numbers aren't in your favor. If Carter brings the Savage Riders, that's ten more men."
Phoenix moves suddenly, and I tense before I can stop myself. But he's not coming toward me. He's sliding down to sit on the floor near the door, his back against the wall, long legs stretched out in front of him.
The position puts him lower than me. Less threatening. More approachable. He knows what he's doing, I realize. Making himself smaller, less intimidating. Giving me the higher ground, both literally and psychologically.
He takes a deep breath, and I watch his chest heave. The movement pulls his t-shirt tight across his torso, and I can see the definition of his muscles, the shadows of tattoos beneath the fabric. He's built like a fighter, like a Greek god sent specifically to protect me.
Maybe he is. Maybe Phoenix is my guardian angel, dressed in leather and ink instead of white robes and wings.
The thought is ridiculous. I don't believe in divine intervention, fate, or the universe sending help when you need it most. But sitting here with Phoenix, I can almost believe in something bigger. Something that put me on the road to Millhaven, that made me brave enough to knock on his door, that led me to the one man who might actually keep me safe.
"Carter has a daughter," Phoenix says, and his voice transforms. Softens in a way I haven't heard before. "Maya. She's five years old."
The information hits me sideways. Carter has a daughter. Phoenix has a niece.
"She's one of the biggest reasons we left the Vipers," Phoenix continues, and there's something in his voice I can't quite identify. Pain, maybe. Or love. Or both. "Maya's always been with Carter, with us, since she was born. And when the Vipers started getting darker, started trafficking women and children, we knew we couldn't stay. Couldn't raise a little girl in that environment. Couldn't let her grow up thinking that was normal."
I try to imagine it. Two brothers trying to protect a baby in the middle of a corrupt motorcycle club. Trying to shield her from the violence and degradation surrounding them. Trying to be good men in a place that punished goodness.
"Where is she now?"
"With Carter in Blackwater Falls. Safe. Happy. He even got a girlfriend now too. Someone who loves both him and Maya, who's building a life with them. He's finally got what we never had growing up. Stability, peace, a real family."
The way he says it, with pride instead of envy, with joy instead of bitterness, tells me everything about who Phoenix is. He’s a good man.
"You're very curious," Phoenix says suddenly, and there's a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.
"I am," I admit. The observation should embarrass me, but it doesn't. "I thought I'd forgotten how to be. Cole didn't like too many questions."
The smirk fades instantly. Phoenix's expression goes hard, dangerous. "Of course he didn't. Men like Cole don't like women who think for themselves. Who have opinions and questionsand minds of their own. Easier to control someone who's been trained not to ask."
He's right. God, he's so right it hurts. Cole spent two years systematically dismantling my curiosity, my intelligence, my tendency to question things I didn't understand. Every time I asked why or how or what does that mean, he'd get that look. The one that preceded violence or lectures about respecting him or long silences that were somehow worse than the hitting.
Eventually, I learned to stop asking. Learned to nod and smile and accept whatever Cole told me without question.
Sitting here with Phoenix, asking questions and getting real answers, feels like coming back to life.
"I just don't want Maya to turn into an orphan," Phoenix adds, returning to our earlier conversation. His voice is rough now, weighted. "I won't call Carter back to a war that might leave his daughter without a father. I won't do that to her. To him. To the family he's built."
"So, you're going into this fight knowing you're outnumbered," I say slowly. "Knowing the Savage Riders would help if you asked. But you're choosing to face it alone rather than risk your niece losing her dad."
"We're not alone. We've got eight good men who know what's coming and are choosing to stand anyway." Phoenix's eyes meet mine. "That's enough. It has to be enough."
"What if it's not?" The question comes out smaller than I intend. "What if the Vipers are too much and you—" I can't finish. Can't voice the fear that Phoenix and his brothers might die because I ran to them for help.
"Then we adapt. We strategize. We survive.”
I want to believe him. Want to accept that this isn't my fault, that the war would have happened regardless. But the guilt sits heavy in my chest anyway.
"Tell me about her," I say, changing the subject because I need to think about something other than the violence coming. "Your niece. What's she like?"
“She's everything good in this world. Smart as hell. She reads at a second-grade level already and she just turned five. Wants to be a marine biologist when she grows up even though we're nowhere near an ocean."
"A marine biologist at five?" I can't help but smile.
