Page 18 of Rough & Ruthless

“But… my flowers. My plants. My store. My dream…” My mind keeps going in circles, bouncing from my home to my shop to the unknown if I stick with Stryker. And the unknown if I don’t. I had my feet on solid ground, and now…

“Breathe for me, Soraya. I know just about everyone in Port Royal. We’ll get your shop fixed up, I promise. Please believe me. The most important thing right now is your safety.”

My breath shudders on an exhale. The heavy, protective walls I’ve spent my entire life building completely crumble under the weight of his absolute devotion. I wrap my arms tightly around his waist, burying my face in his chest, and for the first time in my life, I allow myself to lean fully into someone else's strength. Anchored in his warm embrace, I feel the undeniable shift in my heart. I'm finally home.

CHAPTER NINE

STRYKER

The crisp mountain air fills my lungs, carrying a hint of sea salt from the Pacific coast a few miles away. I stand in the middle of the gravel driveway, my hands on my hips as morning sunlight beats down on the hand-hewn logs of the massive two-story cabin in front of me. The wrap-around porch is sprawling, overlooking a sweeping panoramic view of low-hanging clouds tangled in the pine trees and the dark blue water in the distance.

It’s perfect.

After seeing Soraya’s stark, barren apartment yesterday, something feral and demanding snapped loose inside me. I’m on a mission. I’ve spent the entire morning touring properties, but the second I pulled up to this one, I knew. I already made an offer on the spot, well over asking, and kicked off the paperwork with a stunned realtor.

Living in my apartment in the back of the clubhouse used to be enough. For years, Rebel Kings was my entire life, my only focus. But Soraya has changed everything. She needs a sanctuary, a place away from the noise and the club business. A space that belongs purely to the two of us, where she can build her greenhouse and I can keep her safe.

I pull my keys from my pocket, preparing to ride back to the clubhouse to check on her and Cierra, when my phone buzzes against my thigh. The sharp, grating ringtone cuts through the quiet woods, completely shattering my moment of contentment.

Groaning, I fish the device from my jeans, fully expecting it to be a headache over a shipping manifest or some bullshit missing crate issue from the docks. I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen, wanting nothing more than to ignore it and savor the high of buying our dream home. But duty is ingrained in my bones. I swipe to answer.

"Yeah, Wolf. What is it?"

My VP doesn't mention shipping routes or missing crates. He delivers two words that bring my entire world crashing down.

"Soraya's missing."

My blood runs ice cold. "What the fuck do you mean, she's missing?"

"Cierra sent me to call you. We can't find her, Prez."

A raw, guttural curse rips from my throat. I don't wait for him to explain. Shoving the phone into my pocket, I mount my bike, and kick the kickstand up. I rev the engine until it roars like a wounded beast, tearing out of the driveway and back toward the clubhouse, demanding answers I don't yet have.

My heavy boots slam against the floorboards as I burst through the front doors of the clubhouse. The intense, suffocating tension in the air is immediate, and muffled chatter in the bar dies down the second I step inside. A cold sweat prickles the back of my neck as I shove past a group of members.

"Church! Now! Back room!" I roar, my voice echoing off the walls.

I don't wait for them to scramble. I stride straight into the chapel room, gripping the back of my leather chair as Wolf and Cierra rush in behind me.

"Timeline. Now," I bark, my eyes locking on Cierra.

She looks pale, her hands wringing together. "She was right there, Stryker. We were just hanging out, she was helping me wipe down the bar. She excused herself to use the main floor restroom and... she just vanished. Into thin air."

"We swept the entire clubhouse twice, Prez," Wolf adds, his jaw tight. "Nothing."

"I don't give a shit!" I bark, my protective instincts mutating into blind panic and primal rage. "Set up perimeter sweeps. Check the traffic feeds on the main drag. Lock down the entire territory. I get to decide who comes in and out until I find Soraya.”

While my brothers scramble to execute my orders, I storm into the main floor bathroom myself. The harsh fluorescent lighting buzzes above me and the faint scent of industrial disinfectant hangs in the air, masking everything else. However, I feel a cool draft coming from a slightly cracked window above the sink.

I step closer, my chest heaving. Tucked neatly on the windowsill, fluttering slightly in the breeze, is a folded slip of paper.

I snatch it up, recognizing her delicate, looping handwriting instantly.

I’m okay, I just need to handle something. I’m sorry. I hope to be back soon.

I read it once. Twice. Three times. The words blur together as a violent war between agonizing worry and blistering anger detonates inside my chest.

Wolf steps into the bathroom, looking over my shoulder at the small piece of paper. "She left on her own?" he asks, genuine confusion lacing his tone. "Why would she run?"