Hope Survives Even After Maps Are Burned by Niro Mason 82

-Logan- 

The silence in the clubhouse had a weight to it. 

 

The whiskey tasted like regret instead of the numbness I wanted. Every creak of the floorboards was a potential threat my body was already braced for. 

It was wearing on me. Hard. 

We were a sorry fucking sight, the four of us huddled at the end of the bar. Me, Hailey, Jake, and 

We weren’t talking much. There was nothing really to say. 

my 

old man. 

Hailey sat close enough that our arms kept bumping. Every time felt like a live wire against my 

skin. 

Every instinct screamed to shove her behind me. Put my body between her and the door. But all I could do was sit there. Useless. 

A gimp with a cane and a head full of ghosts. 

The sudden, violent rattle of the door being unlocked from the inside made all of us jump. My hand went to the knife at my belt before my brain caught up. 

Leo, the prospect, practically fell into the room, all fuckin sweaty 

“Prez,” he gasped, stumbling toward us. His eyes were wide, whites showing all around. “The car… the black one. It came back.” 

The air in my lungs turned to ice. Jake was on his feet in a second. “Talk, kid. Now.” 

“It just… it drove up. Real slow. Stopped right across the street. Didn’t get out. Just sat there idling.” Leo’s words tumbled out, tripping over each other. “I counted… twenty seconds. Felt like twenty fuckin years. Then it just… drove off. Same way. Slow.” The information landed in the center of our little group like a lead balloon. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. 

Leo, the little fucker, had just knocked the last fragment of hope right out of me. The first pass was a subtle threat. This second one was a poke. A receipt for the work we did at the docks. They knew where we drank. They knew where we slept. 

And they were making damn sure we knew it. 

The silence was heavier than before. Jake slowly sat back down. He looked at Talon, then at me. A world of shit communicated in that single glance. My old man’s jaw was clenched tight. 

I looked at Hailey. Her hand had found mine under the bar, fingers lacing through mine. She was staring straight ahead. 

She understood. The fear was there, her fingers were shaking. But she wasn’t gonna break. And that shit made twist up. I wanted her to be afraid. I needed her to be afraid enough to run. 

my 

stomach 

But I knew she wouldn’t. 

And then her phone rang, a stupid pop song. It sliced through the silence like a shiv, so violently out of place that we all 

flinched. 

Hailey fumbled her phone out of her pocket and her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Stella?” she murmured. Swiped to answer. “Hey, what’s up?” 

 

Her voice was too bright. Too normal for the tomb we were sitting in. I watched her face, saw the casual curiosity tighten up, then freeze. Her lips parted. All the blood in her face just… left. 

God damnit. I didn’t need to hear the other side of the conversation. The look on her face was enough. Her free hand came up, pressed flat against her chest like she was trying to keep her heart from busting out. 

“He… what?” she whispered. Her eyes flicked to me, wide, then back to some invisible point on the bar top. “Stella, slow down. Say that again.” 

I realized my hands were clenched into fists. Jake and Talon were statues, their focus locked on her. The air 

got thinner. 

“Okay,” Hailey said. “Okay. I’m putting you on speaker. Just… keep talking.” Her fingers trembled as she tapped the screen. The audio shifted, tinny and hollow, echoing in the dead air of the room. 

Stella’s voice, usually a confident bark, was edged with a tremor. “Uh, yeah, so the guy came into the shop and asked for Hailey Conway…” 

I put my face in my hands. Tried to control my breathing. 

Stella continued, and each word was a hammer blow. 

“He asked how long she’d worked here, if she would be back anytime soon. He commented on the artwork–knew his shit, actually. He smiled a lot.” She let out a shaky breath. “He was super polite and charming, but the Russian accent gave him away. Couldn’t hide that.” 

My fingernails dug into my face. 

“Don’t worry, Hails,” she added. “I didn’t tell him shit.” 

Polite. Charming. He wasn’t some thug kicking the door down. He was a professional. He walked into her place of work – her sanctuary – with a smile. 

The calculated fucking menace of it iced my veins. This wasn’t a threat, it was a demonstration. A show of how easily they could reach into her world and touch her. How well they already knew her. 

They weren’t just watching the club. They were cataloging our vulnerabilities. 

They took a look at me, and in less than twenty–four hours they found the chink in my armor. Put a name to it. 

Hailey Conway. 

Pressure built behind my eyes. White–hot fury obliterated every thought in my head. 

My empty glass was in my hand one second, and then it was exploding against the far wall. Shards of glass rained down like filthy hail. 

Every conversation in the room died instantly. Every head turned. Every eye was on me, on the wreckage, on the raw, trembling fury I was trying to smother. I was breathing like I’d just run a mile, my fists clenched. 

I couldn’t look at Hailey. But out of the corner of my eye I saw her flinch. Not from the noise, from the rage behind it. She understood it was for her, and that made it worse. 

Then River’s voice cut through the quiet. He was close enough to hear the call, with his arm over Abby’s shoulders. 

“The compound,” he said. “We move her to the compound…. tonight. They don’t know about that place.” 

Before I could even process the thought, Dex shook his head. “No. They found the clubhouse in an hour. They’re connected, brother. If they want to find the compound, they will. It’s not far enough.” 

 

He leaned his elbows on his knees and continued. “Northern chapter. Up in Wisconsin. Take her there. Put a few states between her and this shit.” 

The idea was a kick to the back of my skull. States between us. I’d be here in the warzone, and she’d be a voice on a phone. A 

memory. 

It was the smart play. The right play. 

And I fucking hated it. 

My old man spoke up. The low, steady rumble of reason. “Jake… your father’s place on the coast. Up in Washington. Quiet. No connection to any of this. I could have Laura take Hailey up here.” 

Jake looked around the room at the other brothers. The ones with ol‘ ladies to worry about. “Could send all the women out there until this shit blows over.” 

A murmur of agreement went through the room. Nods. 

It was the perfect solution. A mass exodus. Get every single vulnerability out president should do. 

What a protector would do. 

of the line of fire. It was smart. It was what a 

I looked at Hailey. Really looked at her. She was watching the exchange like a tennis match, and her expression went from shock to horror. She saw it, too… the inevitable conclusion. 

The thought was a physical pain. A knife between the ribs. I wanted to roar, to break something else. Veto it all with violence. But I just sat there. 

I was mulling it over, and I hated every second of it. I liked the idea. I liked the idea of her on a rocky beach in Washington, a thousand miles from here, where the only thing that could hurt her was the wind and snow. 

The guys with wives and girlfriends were all nodding. They’d been worrying about their own, and President Jake had just offered them a way out. They liked this idea a lot. 

I saw the resolve hardening on Jake’s face, the practical nod from my old man. It was done. It was decided. 

And then her voice cut through it all, sharp as the broken glass on the floor. “NO.” 

She was on her feet. The barstool tipped over behind her. All that pale fear was gone, burned away by fury. 

“You don’t actually think I’m going anywhere, do you?!” She looked at me, then at Jake. Her blue eyes were blazing. “They know my name. This is my fight, too. Give me a gun! I’ll blast these Russian fucks in the heads myself!” 

The room, which had been ready to take the chicks off the chessboard, froze again. You could’ve heard a mouse fart. Dex’s eyebrows shot up. River–smirked. 

My old man just sighed, weary, like he was expecting this. 

I guess I was too, though. 

Her words landed in my chest and detonated. Pride. Warring with a terror so huge it made me dizzy. 

The image she painted – Hailey, my Hailey, with a gun in her hands, standing against those professional fucking killers – was the stuff of my worst nightmares. 

“Ace,” I said, my voice rough, trying to claw back some control. 

ou don’t know what you’re sayin.” 

“The hell I don’t!” she shot back, turning those fiery eyes on me. I know exactly what I’m saying! You don’t get to ship me 

 

off to bumfuck nowhere! I’m not leaving you here to face this alone. I’m not letting them win by making me run and hide? 

“Hailey,” Talon muttered. 

She ignored him. Took a step toward me, vibrating with intensity “They came to my shop. They asked for “me“. This is personal. So you can either help me, or you can get the hell out of my way.” 

The guys were shifting, uncomfortable. This wasn’t club business anymore. This was a domestic, playing out in front of God and everybody. But her words hung in the air. 

A line in the sand. 

I looked at her. Her stubbornness, her fire. I felt something in me break. 

It wasn’t a surrender though. It was a realization. 

I couldn’t protect her by sending her away. I knew she’d find a way back here. 

The only way to protect her was to stand beside her. To be the weapon she needed, not the shield I wanted to be. 

The thought made me physically ill.