Sleeping with Everest was the only thing I could think of to keep his mind off the fact that I was going to work.

I couldn't really explain why I was being so stubborn, but if you'd been through what I had, you wouldn't want to give up your freedom either—especially not for another man trying to take it away. I'd spent so much time running the same thoughts over and over in my head, trying to figure this whole thing out. At the end of the day, Everest was hurting, and I was the only one left for him to take it out on. I was the one keeping him from his peace, his freedom, from escaping all of this.

At one point in the night, after making sure he was out cold, I grabbed his phone. I knew how light of a sleeper he was, so I acted like I was just going to the bathroom. I sent a quick message to Stump, telling him to pick me up in the morning—but I worded it like I was giving an order, like I was his boss, just to make sure he'd actually do it.

When I woke up the next morning, Everest was gone. I was relieved—my shift started at 8 a.m., and the last thing I wanted was to deal with him. But then I looked outside. His motorcycle and his truck were both gone. He'd taken every way I had to leave.

I didn't waste any time getting myself together and heading out the door. Sure enough, Stump was already there, standing in his usual way, just waiting. But I couldn't shake the nerves creeping up my spine. What if Everest had talked to him this morning? What if they were planning something? What if this was all a setup to punish me for defying him again?

"Good morning!" I said, my voice a little too high-pitched as I hopped into the car. My fingers fidgeted in my lap, and I could feel anxiety crawling all over me.

I wasn't stupid—I'd deleted the messages before I went back to bed last night.

The ride was silent, like always. I just stared out the window, trying to act as normal as possible. The second we pulled up to the hospital, I jumped out, gave Stump a quick wave, and hurried inside, my eyes scanning my surroundings just to make sure no one was watching me.

It was Saturday, which meant Bonnie wouldn't be at the front desk. Thank God. I was pretty sure she knew everything—what Everest thought about all of this, what was really going on. I didn't need that added stress.

But as soon as I made it to the locker room and stepped onto the floor, I ran right into someone else.

Mason.

I had to swallow back a groan. Taking a deep breath, I forced a small smile, but he didn't even acknowledge me. He just shot me a glare, then looked back down, completely ignoring me.

Honestly? I was fine with that.

The morning dragged on in a steady rhythm—checking charts, adjusting IVs, answering patient calls. It was busy, but not chaotic, and for once, I felt like I could keep my mind focused on something other than everything happening outside these hospital walls.

I had just finished helping a patient back into bed when the overhead speakers crackled to life.

"Code Blue, Emergency Department. Incoming: 73-year-old male, cardiac arrest. ETA two minutes."

The air in the room shifted immediately. Nurses exchanged looks, doctors started moving, and my pulse kicked up a notch. Code Blue—serious cardiac distress. That meant everyone had to be ready the moment the ambulance arrived.

I stepped toward the door, already running through protocol in my head, when the next words over the intercom stopped me cold.

"Patient name: Gregory McGuire."

My stomach dropped. My hands froze on the doorframe.

Gregory McGuire. My grandfather.

For a second, the world blurred around me, my heartbeat thudding in my ears. That couldn't be right. He was fine—he was always fine. Stubborn, sure. Set in his ways, definitely. But a heart attack?

I forced my legs to move, pushing through the hallway as fast as I could without breaking into a run. By the time I reached the ER doors, the ambulance was already backing in, sirens still wailing. I could see the paramedics through the windshield, working frantically over a body on the stretcher.

And then, through the chaos, I saw his face.

Pale. Still. Too still.

A sharp breath caught in my throat.

"Pap..."

Before I could move, the ER doors burst open again, and in rushed my Nana and Aunt Teagan, their faces twisted with fear. Nana looked smaller than usual, her cardigan slipping off one shoulder as she hurried forward, gripping Aunt Teagan's arm like it was the only thing keeping her standing.

"Avery!" Nana's voice cracked as she spotted me. Her eyes, usually so full of warmth, were wide with panic. "It's your grandpa—he just—he just collapsed. We were at the house, and he said his chest hurt, and then—" Her voice broke, and Aunt Teagan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, struggling to keep her own composure.

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat and took a step toward them. "It's okay, Nana. He's here now. The doctors are going to take care of him." I said it like I believed it, like I could make it true just by saying the words out loud.

But the moment I glanced back toward the stretcher, where the doctors were shouting orders and moving fast, my stomach twisted into a tight knot. I wanted to be in there. I wanted to help, to do something other than stand here feeling useless and terrified.

But I couldn't.

"Avery, Nana said that a man came by the house and was talking to Pap when he collapsed," my aunt Teagan said, her eyes searching mine for answers.

Her words barely registered. My mind was racing in a million different directions, making it impossible to think straight. Her voice felt distant, like an echo bouncing through the fog in my head. The room around me seemed to shrink, pressing in on all sides.

A man? What man?

Nana and Teagan knew Everest—they would have mentioned him by name. That meant it had to be someone else. And if it wasn't Everest, then there were only two possibilities: The Devil's Bloods or Logan.

And neither option was good.

I squeezed my hands into fists, trying to steady my breath. Just as my head started to spin, a familiar voice came from beside me.

"Avery."

I turned to find Mason standing there, his expression softer than I'd ever seen it. The usual cold indifference was gone, replaced with something else—something steadier.

"I'll take care of him," he said firmly. "You don't have to worry."

I wanted to argue. To tell him I needed to be there, needed to make sure everything was done right. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw something I hadn't expected.

Trust.

Mason wasn't just saying it—he meant it.

Tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I nodded, my voice barely above a whisper. "Okay."

___________________

EVERESTS POV:

My hands clenched the steering wheel so tight I could feel the leather digging into my palms, but I didn't loosen my grip. My jaw ached from how hard I was grinding my teeth, but I didn't care. All I could think about was her.

I told her not to go. Told her. Made it damn clear. And yet, she still did it. She still defied me.

The second I came back to the house and realized she was gone, a slow, burning rage started building in my chest. I had expected to find her where she belonged—still in bed, still safe. Instead, I came home to an empty house, the sheets cold, her scent already fading. I didn't even have to think twice about where she was.

Stump. That idiot actually helped her. Thought he could sneak her out right under my nose. Thought I wouldn't notice. But I always notice.

I exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel even tighter, trying to steady the storm raging inside me.

She really thought she could just ignore me? Go behind my back like I wouldn't find out?

She doesn't get it.

She doesn't understand that everything I do—everything—is for her. It's not about control. It's not about keeping her locked away. It's about keeping her safe. Because the second she starts making her own rules, the second she decides she knows better than me, she puts herself in danger.

And now, because she didn't listen—because she refused to learn—I have to remind her exactly why she should have.

I swerved my motorcycle into the parking lot, barely killing the engine before I was already moving. My eyes locked onto Stump, sitting in his usual spot, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he lazily watched Avery—just like I had instructed him to in the past.

The moment he saw me coming, his entire posture changed. He dropped his cigarette, stomping it out in one quick motion as he stood up straight, ready to speak. But before he could get a single word out, I had him by the neck.

He wasn't small—not by normal standards—but I towered over him, just like I did most of the brothers. That was why they respected me. That was why I was their vice president. They knew not to cross me. Fear flashed in Stump's eyes as he threw his hands up in defense, his breath hitching.

"Since when did you start taking orders from someone other than me?" I spat, tightening my grip just enough to make sure he knew I wasn't playing.

His face twisted in confusion, pure shock replacing his fear. "I—I didn't," he stammered out, voice hoarse. "You texted me last night. Told me to take her to work like you always do. I didn't think anything of it, I swear!"

I let go of him instantly, my stomach twisting. Stump stumbled back, rubbing his throat as he fumbled in his pocket, yanking out his phone. "Look," he said quickly, unlocking it and shoving it toward me. "Read for yourself."

I snatched the phone from his hand and scanned through the messages.

My jaw tightened. My pulse pounded.

I didn't recognize any of them.

I never sent these.

Avery did.

I stormed into the hospital, my steps heavy, each one fueled by rage and the desperate need to find Avery. She had crossed a line, and I intended to make sure she understood that. She thought she could go behind my back, put herself in danger like this? I wasn't going to let it slide.

As I pushed through the double doors, I spotted her almost immediately. She was standing near the waiting area, her back slightly hunched, eyes fixed on the ground. It was hard to tell whether she was just tired or something deeper was going on, but it didn't matter. She was going to listen to me, whether she liked it or not.

But before I could make my way over to her, I noticed her Nana and Aunt Teagan, both sitting in chairs nearby, their faces etched with worry. Dorthy's hands were wringing together, her eyes flicking from Avery to the ground.

When Avery finally looked up, her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen from what looked like hours of crying. I froze. The anger that had been boiling in my chest started to fade, replaced by something sharper, something cold. Seeing her like this—the vulnerability, the pain—something inside me twisted.

"Everest..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if saying my name took all the strength she had left.

Avery took a deep breath, her chest rising with the effort, before she finally spoke. "Everest... my grandfather—he had a heart attack." Her words hit me like a slap to the face.

My stomach churned as I tried to process what she was saying. "What?" I asked, my voice suddenly quieter, though still edged with anger.

Avery nodded slowly, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears. "They brought him in. He... he's not doing well."

I stood there, frozen for a moment, the reality of her words sinking in. The anger I felt before didn't disappear, but it became secondary to something else—something colder, more distant. She was clearly shaken.

I knelt down in front of Avery, allowing her body to collapse into mine as I held her in the waiting room. Her trembling form pressed against me, and I wrapped my arms around her, offering what little comfort I could. As I held her, my gaze shifted to Teagan. Her face, still marked with the bruises

I knew exactly who had caused this—or at least who had played a part in it—just by the way Teagan looked at me. Her eyes spoke volumes, communicating with me without a single word. There was a depth of fear and unspoken urgency in her gaze that made everything clear, even though she remained silent.

We sat in the waiting room for hours, the silence between us thick and heavy, only broken by the occasional shuffle of nurses walking by or the soft hum of hospital machines. Avery didn't say much, and neither did anyone else. We were all caught in the tension of the situation, each of us silently waiting for news, but no one dared to speak about the uncertainty that loomed.

While we waited, I made a few phone calls to the club to update Ghost on the situation. During our conversation, I learned that Logan had paid a visit to Avery's grandparents shortly before the incident.

Avery had leaned against me the entire time, her body still trembling, her eyes distant. Teagan sat nearby, her gaze constantly flicking toward the doors that led to the surgery rooms, as if willing them to open. Her nana had her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes closed in quiet prayer. It felt like time was moving slower here, each minute stretching out in endless anticipation.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door to the surgery area swung open. A doctor stepped through, wearing a weary but reassuring expression. His presence caught our attention immediately. We all stood up at once, Avery barely able to keep herself steady on her feet.

The doctor took a moment to look around at us, his eyes briefly landing on each of us before speaking. "Greg," he began, his voice calm but firm, "suffered a pretty massive heart attack. It was a severe situation, but we were able to perform the surgery successfully." He paused, letting the words settle in. "He's in recovery now, and though it was touch-and-go for a while, he's going to be okay."

Relief washed over the room like a tidal wave. Avery's breath caught in her throat as her shoulders slumped, and for the first time in hours, I saw her relax, just a little. It wasn't over, but the worst was still to come.

I stood there, watching as Avery, her Nana, and Teagan embraced each other in a tight, emotional hug, their relief palpable as they waited for the nurse to guide them back to see Greg. The connection between our families ran deep—Avery's grandparents had been a significant part of my life for years. The McGuire family was a well-established name in Locus, with a long history in the town.

Over the years, I'd heard plenty of stories from both my father and Avery's about the McGuire girls. They had always been unique, each with their own distinct qualities that made them unforgettable. I knew that Avery had an aunt who lived in New York—she was the eldest of the three. Avery's mother was the middle child, and Teagan, the youngest, had always been the one to stand out with her fiery personality.

Avery stole a glance in my direction, offering a brief but reassuring nod before turning to follow her Nana and Teagan through the hospital doors to visit her grandfather. That fleeting moment of connection reminded me of just how deeply these people meant to her, how much they formed the core of her world.

And that realization only heightened the urgency I felt. I needed to ensure she was safe—nothing mattered more.

Without hesitation, I turned and made my way out of the hospital, my mind already shifting gears. I hopped onto my bike, issuing a quick command for Stump to stay behind. He'd know what to do—bring everyone home when they were ready. I didn't have the luxury of time. I was already too far behind.

The moment I was out of view, the weight of the situation crashed down on me. The people who dared to hurt her didn't know what they were up against. The thought of anyone threatening Avery made my blood boil. They wouldn't just regret it—they'd suffer.

I was coming for them. And once I had them in my sights, I wouldn't stop until they were nothing but a memory. They'd learn quickly that crossing me was the last mistake they'd ever make.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

AVERYS POV:

"Go home, honey, and get some rest. I'm gonna stay here with Pap," my Nana urged gently, her voice filled with warmth and concern as she rested a hand on my shoulder. I didn't even look at her. I couldn't tear my gaze away from my grandfather, lying there so still, his body hooked up to all those machines, the beeping of the monitors a constant reminder of how fragile everything was.

I squeezed his hand a little tighter, my heart aching at the sight of him so vulnerable.

My grandfather wasn't a young man anymore, and the toll that major heart surgery took on someone his age was evident in the way his body seemed to sag under the weight of it. The doctors had told us the surgery had gone well, but they also made it clear that it was a waiting game now—waiting to see if he could recover enough to wake up, to function, to come back to us.

I nodded slowly, but I couldn't bring myself to leave. How could I? Not when he was fighting so hard to pull through. I wasn't sure if I could trust myself to rest when every part of me wanted to stay by his side, praying that he'd wake up and smile at me like he always did. But Nana needed the rest too, and I could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

"I love you...," I said softly, though it felt like a betrayal. My voice cracked, betraying the fear I was trying to hide.

Stump eventually entered the hospital, his presence unwavering, standing there like a silent signal that it was time to go home. I knew exactly why he was there—Everest had sent him. As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn't oblivious to the bigger picture anymore. The situation was spiraling, and I could feel it deep in my gut.

A sense of guilt crept over me, twisting my insides. I'd ignored Everest all this time. He had been right, and I'd pushed him away, convinced I could handle everything myself. Now, here I was, watching my grandfather fight for his life, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had played a part in this.

I shouldn't have gone into work today. I should've stayed home. I should've been there with my grandparents, with the people who actually mattered. What if something worse had happened to them in my absence? They were the only family I had left.

The weight of my mistakes was unbearable, suffocating even. What kind of person was I to ignore the very real threats Everest had warned me about? I'd failed to listen, and now, it felt like everything was falling apart around me. The guilt was suffocating, and no amount of wishing could turn back time.

This was probably the first time I hadn't attempted to make conversation with Stump during our awkward rides home. Instead, I sat in silence, staring blankly out the window. As we pulled up to the gate, I let out a sigh, lifting my head to see an unusual number of bikes parked outside the clubhouse.

"Take me to the club. I need to see Everest," I said, my voice breaking as a tear slipped down my face.

Stump hesitated—no doubt wary after the trouble I had undoubtedly gotten him into that morning. But after a brief pause, he turned the wheel toward the clubhouse. This time, when we arrived, we both stepped out of the car. Stump was close behind me, practically on my heels, as we entered the clubhouse.

As soon as I stepped inside, the familiar haze of smoke and whiskey filled my senses. The usual hum of conversation died down slightly as eyes flicked in my direction, but I barely registered it. My focus was on finding Everest—on getting answers.

Before I could take another step, Tequila was already behind the bar, pouring a drink as Bonnie rushed toward me, her expression heavy with sympathy.

"Avery," Bonnie said softly, reaching for my arm. "I just heard... I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

I swallowed hard, forcing a small nod. "It's okay," I murmured, though we both knew it wasn't.

Tequila slid a glass across the bar toward me without a word, her usual sharp attitude subdued. I wrapped my fingers around it, taking a slow sip as I let the warmth burn its way down my throat.

I hadn't come here with the intention of seeing Everest—there wasn't much he could do for me anyway. All I wanted was a drink in my hand, something strong enough to make me feel numb, even if just for a little while.

I took another sip, the burn of the liquor trailing down my throat, dulling the edges of my thoughts but never fully silencing them. Bonnie and Tequila lingered nearby, their concerned eyes watching me, but neither said anything. They knew better.

The weight of the day pressed down on me, suffocating and relentless. The club was louder now, voices picking back up as the initial shock of my presence wore off. I kept my eyes on the glass in front of me, swirling the liquid absently, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest.

Tequila leaned against the bar, arms crossed. "You sure you're okay?" she asked finally, her voice softer than usual.

I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Not really," I admitted. "But what else is new?"

Bonnie reached for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling away. "You don't have to be alone, you know," she said, her voice filled with an understanding I wasn't sure I could handle right now.

I nodded but didn't respond. Alone was exactly how I felt—how I always felt. And no amount of sympathy or liquor could change that.