27. Chapter Twenty-Seven Abby

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Abby

T he steel gates clanged shut behind us, the finality of it ringing in my ears.

My heart hammered in my chest as I blinked at the sudden shift from the sterile light of the prison to the murky twilight outside. The growl of motorcycle engines filled the air, a rough chorus that sent a shiver of urgency down my spine.

I squinted against the dimming sky, taking in the sight of bikes lined up like soldiers ready for battle. Chrome caught what little light there was, winking at me as if in silent conspiracy. Alex and Neon had come through—there were tons of vehicles right outside the gates.

The plan was working.

But we had to get away before they caught Nathan again. Before they caught all of us .

Alex and Jack stood by one of the bikes, a beast of black metal that hummed with a life of its own. His eyes found mine across the distance, and something in his steady gaze told me this was no time for hesitation. Nathan, still clad in the drab prison uniform, exchanged a nod with his brother. An understanding passed between them, one that didn't need voicing; years of living in a world where blind trust was sometimes necessary.

"Time to go," Nathan's voice cut through the rumble, sharp and commanding. I didn't need telling twice. The adrenaline that had been coursing through my veins since the moment of my calculated risk now propelled me forward.

My sneakers pounded against the gravel as we made a break for the bike Alex had singled out. It vibrated with eagerness, engine purring like a prowling predator awaiting its master's command.

"Get on," he said, his voice low but clear over the hum of idling engines.

The scent of oil and leather wrapped around me as I climbed onto the back of the bike, the world narrowing down to the heat of Nathan's body in front of me and the cool metal beneath us. Every instinct honed from my FBI training screamed that this was the crucial moment—where the line between freedom and captivity would be drawn.

"Alex!" Nathan called, his eyes locking with his brother's once more.

“We’ll talk later. Get out of here!” Alex said.

Nathan revved the engine, a signal to the rest of the group. Like a pack responding to their alpha, engines roared to life, each biker poised for the escape.

We were about to plunge into the night, and there was no looking back.

"Abby, hold on tight," Nathan instructed without looking back.

My fingers dug into the fabric of his prison uniform, hands clasped against his abs. The tension around us hummed, thick and charged, as everyone got ready to move. There were no further words; the gravity of our situation bore down on us with a weight that rendered speech unnecessary.

But it didn’t matter. We were getting the fuck out of there.

We could sort everything else out later.

"Where to?" Nathan's voice cut through, betraying none of his thoughts.

"Out of range," I managed to reply, my voice barely audible against the growl of the motorcycle. "Just drive."

"Okay." His affirmation was curt, and with it, he kicked the bike into gear.

The night blurred as we shot forward, the prison—a monolith of concrete and steel—receding into the darkness behind us. Raw adrenaline coursed through me, mingling with the fear and determination that had become my constant companions since Nathan’s arrest.

As we raced away, the cool air slapped against my skin, but Nathan's warmth anchored me in the chaos. I clung to him, the man who represented both danger and protection, and whose name whispered rumors of death to those who crossed him.

My baby’s father.

He hadn’t even mentioned it…had my dad told him?

There was no time to discuss it now.

Because there was only the escape, the road stretching endlessly before us as we fled toward an uncertain dawn.

The main road beneath us was a dark ribbon, its edges blurred by the low visibility of the night. We were exposed here, vulnerable in the open, and I sensed Nathan's unease. Without warning, he veered sharply onto a dirt road that seemed to appear out of nowhere, a secret path concealed by shadows.

I tightened my grip around his waist, pressing myself closer to him. The rough fabric of his prison uniform scratched against my cheek, but I didn't care. I could feel his steady heartbeat through the thin material—a reminder that he was real, he was here, and for now, we were together.

"Abby," Nathan called over his shoulder, the rumble of his voice competing with the engine's thrum. "You holding up alright?"

"Yeah," I replied, my arms wrapped around him like a lifeline. The last few weeks without him had been a slow torment, each day stretching longer than the last. Now, with my body pressed against his, the ache of his absence began to ease, replaced by the fire of his presence.

The dirt road was bumpy, jostling us as the motorcycle's headlight carved a narrow path through the darkness. It was making me a little nauseous.

As much as my father taught me to be tough, to fight and shoot, nothing prepared me for the complexity of emotions that Nathan stirred within me. With every mile we put between ourselves and the past, I felt the lines between duty and desire blur into a dangerous tangle.

"Missed you," I whispered into his ear, the words lost in the wind. I wasn't sure if he heard me, but I needed to say it, needed him to know that despite the chaos, my heart had been yearning for his return.

"Missed you too, Abby," Nathan finally responded after a timeless moment, his voice a soft growl that vibrated through my bones. It was a rare admission from a man whose life forced him to guard his emotions as fiercely as he guarded his family's empire.

But not with me. Not anymore.

The road grew more uneven, and we swerved onto a narrower trail, the underbrush occasionally brushing against our legs. I clung to Nathan, the muscles of his torso flexing beneath my fingers as he navigated the treacherous path. I tightened my grip around him, my body instinctively seeking his warmth, his strength. The dragon tattoo on his chest and side, hidden beneath the fabric, seemed to pulse against my palm.

"We should stop and ditch the bike," he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear over the roar of the motorcycle engine.

I nodded against his back, not even afraid of being out here in the dark. I knew we would keep each other safe. “We set up a spot for us to hunker down,” I told him. “Little cabin with a few supplies–just for tonight.”

We took only a moment to move the bike and conceal it in some brush, then we set out on foot. The moon lit our path through the redwoods, reminding me of a night not too long ago when I’d put a gun to my head and told him to kill me if he was going to discard me like trash.

He’d proposed that night.

I still wore that ring on my finger.

We walked through the woods hand in hand, Nathan reaching up to move branches out of my way. "Watch your head," he said suddenly, and I ducked instinctively as a low hanging branch swept over us.

"Thanks," I murmured.

The air grew colder as we burrowed deeper into the woods, but Nathan's warmth shielded me from the biting chill. The dense canopy above us seemed to knit together, a dark tapestry that stole away the silver glow of the stars one by one…then the setting moon. It was just us, and the night, and our escape into a world where rules were made by those strong enough to enforce them.

"Is that it?" Nathan said, his voice low and rough, cutting through the quiet.

“What?”

He took my hand and pointed, barely visible in the starlight–but I saw where he was pointing. A small, abandoned cabin sat in a tiny clearing, shaded by a massive tree. It might have been spooky under any other circumstance, but I just wanted a place to lay my head after the day we’d just had.

“We should stop here for a bit,” he said. “They won’t find us.”

I walked him toward the cabin, my boots sinking slightly into the soft earth. He followed, his movements deliberate, always controlled. Our eyes met and held when we stepped onto the front porch.

"Are you okay?" His question was simple but loaded with concern that reached beyond the physical.

"Yeah." My voice was steady, a small victory against the chaos that threatened to unravel me. "You?"

His embrace was immediate, wrapping me in a certainty that no amount of darkness could obscure. "I'm okay now," he murmured into my hair, and I believed him, because in his arms, the madness of our world seemed to pause. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m glad I’m here too.”