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Hefoundme.
Chapter Sixteen
RHETT
The engine purrs under us, but I’m not the one in control this time. My hands grip her waist, holding on for dear life, while she navigates the empty streets. It takes everything I have left just to stay upright, but she... she’s handling it like she’s been doing this forever. My girl. My little nightmare.
It’s 2 a.m. The world around us is eerily quiet. The kind of quiet that gets under your skin, makes you feel like something’s coming. And maybe it is. The cartel won’t rest once they realize what happened tonight. But for now, all I can focus on is her. The way her body moves with the bike, the steady determination in every turn she makes.
She got us out of that hellhole.
The wind bites against my skin, every breath a reminder of how banged up I am. I wasn’t in any shape to drive, and she knew it. Took the keys like she was born to take control, throwing her leg over the bike and giving me a look that said,trust me.
I did.
I still do.
We pull into her driveway, the engine cutting off with a soft rumble. The silence is almost deafening after the roar of the bike, but the hum of adrenaline still vibrates in my veins. It’s only when she gets off the bike, when I feel the cool air hit where her body was pressed against mine, that I realize just how fucking wrecked I am. My muscles scream in protest as I force myself to stand, and it takes everything not to collapse right there on the pavement.
She turns to me, eyes scanning my face, reading me like a damn book. There’s no hiding how close to the edge I am, not from her.
“You did good,” I rasp, my voice barely holding. “Got us home.”
She nods, not saying anything, but there’s something in her expression. A flicker of pride. She proved herself tonight, and she knows it. Killed two men, rode us out of danger, and now she’s standing here, calm as ever, while I feel like I’m about to fall apart.
Without a word, she takes my arm, guiding me toward the house. Her touch is steady, her grip firm, and I let her lead. I don’t have much of a choice at this point. I’m not used to being this weak, this vulnerable, but with her... it doesn’t feel like weakness. It feels like trust.
She opens the door and we step inside, the warmth of the house a sharp contrast to the chill outside. It’s familiar, grounding, but there’s something different now. Something about the way she moves, the way she takes charge without hesitation. This is her space, and she’s letting me in. Not just into her home, but into her life.
I sink down onto the couch, every inch of my body screaming in pain, but I try to hide it. She disappears into the bathroom, coming back with a first aid kit. The sight of it makes me wince,not from the pain, but from the fact that she’s about to take care of me. I’m not used to this. I’ve never needed it before.
But now? Now, I need her.
She kneels beside me, opening the kit and pulling out supplies with quick, practiced movements. I don’t know if she’s done this before, but she moves like she has. Her hands are gentle but firm, wiping away the blood, cleaning the cuts. The alcohol burns, but I barely flinch. It’s nothing compared to the war going on inside my head.
She didn’t leave.
She could have. Hell, I made sure she knew how to get away. Showed her where the gun was, the keys, everything she’d need to disappear. I was ready to let her go, to lose her if it meant she’d be safe.
But she came back.
Not just that—she fought for me.Killedfor me.
I watch her as she works, my chest tightening with every second. She doesn’t know what she’s done to me, what she’s made me feel. She’s ruined me in the best way possible.
“You’re thinking too much,” she mutters, not looking up from the gash she’s stitching on my side. “Stop it.”
A low laugh escapes me, though it hurts like hell. “Can’t help it,” I say, my voice rough. “You... you didn’t leave.”
She pauses, just for a second, her fingers stilling on my skin. Then she looks up, her eyes locking on mine. “I couldn’t leave,” she says softly. “Not you.”
Those words hit me harder than any punch I’ve ever taken. She couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t.
She stayed.
She fought through the hell we just went through, and she’s still standing, still here, taking care of me when I’m barely holding on.
My throat tightens, but I push through the ache, reaching out to cup her face. Her skin is warm beneath my fingers, soft despite everything we’ve been through tonight. She looks at me with those wide, fierce eyes, and I see it. The same thing I’ve felt since the first time I laid eyes on her. The same fire that made her come back.
