Chapter Thirty-Six: Collateral

The ride back to my place was quiet. Too quiet.

The Harley's engine roared under us, the wind whipped my hair back into knots, and I couldn't hear a single thought over the noise — which should've been a mercy. But it wasn't. Because even through all that thunder, the silence between me and Jax was louder.

He didn't speak. Didn't look back at me. His shoulders were set hard, stiff with the kind of tension I knew wasn't going anywhere. My arms were locked around him, but I could feel the distance anyway. It was in the way he leaned into the turns like he was trying to outrun something he couldn't name.

By the time he pulled into my driveway, my stomach was twisted in knots.

The bike clicked quiet when he cut the engine. I slid off, boots hitting the gravel heavier than they should have. My legs felt shaky, like the ground might give out beneath me.

I walked up to the door, keys clutched too tight in my fist. The lock gave after a second of fumbling, and I pushed the door open into the dark quiet of the house. My home. My dad's home. A place that was supposed to feel safe, and didn't anymore.

I stepped inside, finally breathing like maybe I'd get a second alone to think, to come apart. But when I turned, Jax was there in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame like he owned the right to walk in.

"What're you doing?" I asked, sharper than I meant to.

"Stayin'," he said simply. His voice had dropped low, serious, no hint of a smile. "Gotta now."

I blinked at him, almost thrown. "You don't—"

He cut me off quick, shaking his head. "I do."

I wanted to argue. God, I wanted to. I wanted to tell him I could handle myself, that I didn't need him hovering, that it would be better for him, for everyone, if he left me to deal with my own mess. But the look in his eyes stopped me. That stubborn steel, the kind that didn't bend, didn't take no for an answer.

So I just sighed, too tired to fight, and stepped inside deeper. He closed the door behind us with a final-sounding thud.

I kicked off my boots, headed down the hall toward my room. My body felt heavy, like every step was sinking into the floor.

"Rae."

His voice stopped me. Not loud, not harsh. Just steady.

I turned halfway, arms folded across my chest. "What?"

"You're not leavin'."

The words hung there, stark and solid, like stone in the air.

My throat tightened. Something in me cracked, sharp and fast. "You don't get to decide that."

"I'm not deciding. I'm tellin' you."

I laughed, humorless, shaking my head. "That's not how this works, Jax."

"It is now."

That did it. The dam broke.

I turned fully, words spilling faster than I could stop them. "Do you think I want this? Do you think I like dragging my shit back here, letting it touch you, touch SAMCRO, touch Abel? You think I don't see the way Clay looks at me, like I'm poison at his table? You think I don't hear what people whisper, that Rae Lane brought her ghosts home to Charming, and now everyone's paying the price?"

He didn't flinch. Just watched me, steady.

I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to stop the spinning. "I can't do that to you. To any of you. If I stay, Hunter's gonna keep pressing, keep pushing, and it won't stop until somebody gets hurt. That's not gonna be you, Jax. Or your kid. Or your club."

My voice cracked on the last word, tears burning my eyes, but I blinked them back hard.

"I have to go," I whispered. "It's the only way I keep you safe."

Jax shook his head slow, like he'd already decided this hours ago. "No. The only way we stay safe is if you stay here. Where I can see you. Where the club can see him. Hunter wants you? Fine. He can want all he likes. But he doesn't get to take you. Not again."

"Jax—"

"I'm not losin' you, Rae." His voice hitched, barely, but enough for me to feel it. "Not after everything. Not after all the years. You hear me?"

I stared at him, my chest tight, torn between every instinct screaming to run and every part of me that wanted to collapse right into him.

But I couldn't.

If I let him hold me, I'd never leave. If I never left, Hunter would never stop.

So instead, I bit down hard and turned away, heading into my room. My hands trembled as I pulled my jacket off, tossed it over the chair, tried to busy myself with anything other than the way his voice had wrapped around my ribs.

Behind me, I heard him sink onto the couch, boots heavy on the floor, leather creaking as he leaned back. Like he'd settled in for the night, like there was no argument left.

Silence stretched. Not the tense kind from the ride, but heavy. Weighted.

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, heart pounding, replaying every word. Every look.

I thought about Hunter's face when he saw me at the hospital. The way his voice slithered, smooth and cruel. The scar under my ribs burning with memory.

I thought about Clay's threat, about the way the table looked at me like I was a liability they couldn't afford.

And I thought about Jax. His stubbornness. His fire. His voice when he said he wasn't losing me.

It should've made me feel safe. Instead, all I felt was the sharp edge of guilt.

Because deep down, I knew this didn't end with me staying or leaving. It ended with blood. And I couldn't shake the thought that if I stayed, that blood might not just be mine.

I rolled to my side, pulled the blanket tighter, and whispered to the ceiling, too quiet for even him to hear from the couch.

"I can't let you be collateral, Jax."

The words hung in the dark, unanswered.

Sleep didn't come easy.