Don’t Leave My Side

Kade’s Pov

The folded note and the photograph burning a hole in my hand told me everything I needed to know: someone was playing a very sick, very dangerous game, and they were getting way too close.

I looked down at Milo. His face was pale, his wide brown eyes staring at the creepy picture of himself with absolute terror. He was shaking, wrapping his arms around his chest like he was freezing cold. 

Seeing him like that made something dark and protective flare up deep inside my chest. I wanted to hunt down whoever took that photo and make them regret the day they learned how to hold a camera.

"Get away from the door, Milo," I said, my voice dropping into a harsh, commanding tone.

"They were right here," Milo whispered, his voice trembling as he backed slowly into the living room. "How did they get up here without us hearing them? This building has a locked front door!"

"Professionals," I muttered, slamming the apartment door shut and throwing every single deadbolt and lock into place. "Or someone with a key."

I smoothed out the Polaroid and the note on the kitchen counter, studying the jagged handwriting. The threat wasn't a bluff anymore. Whoever was hunting around our old club business had found Milo, and they were using his dead father to rattle him. 

The worst part was, I knew some of the history behind the Devil Riders and the mess Milo's father left behind, but I couldn't tell Milo yet. If he knew the full truth about what his dad was involved in, it would break his heart.

"I need to make a call," I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

Milo crossed his arms, his fear quickly turning back into stubborn anger. "You're calling Adrian? Or your biker boss friends? Because I am sick of people making decisions behind my back! What does the note mean, Kade? What did my father really do?"

"Milo, stop," I warned, pressing the phone to my ear as it started ringing.

"No, I won't stop!" Milo fired back, stepping right up to me. "Every time I ask about my dad, people look at me like I'm an idiot or a victim. Was he a criminal? Is that why someone is leaving creepy notes at my door?"

Before I could answer him, the call connected on the other end, and Roman Black’s deep, gravelly voice came through the speaker.

"Talk to me, Kade," Roman said without any greeting. "You secure?"

"We got a drop," I told Roman, keeping my eyes locked on Milo, who was glaring at me with pure frustration. "A Polaroid of Milo outside his building, left right outside his door. The note tells him to ask his mother what his father did. Someone is pushing us, Roman."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. When Roman spoke again, his voice was heavy and serious. 

"The past is catching up, Kade. Milo’s old man wasn't just working a normal job back then. He was deep inside club business with us before he tried to walk away. And somebody believes Milo has the ledger—the records of everything your father hid before he died."

My stomach dropped. If outsiders thought Milo had it, he wasn't just a random target. He was sitting on a ticking time bomb

"I'll handle it," I said tightly. "I'm keeping him locked down."

"Keep him close," Roman ordered, and the line went dead.

I lowered the phone slowly, my jaw tight. Milo was watching me closely, reading every single change in my expression.

"What did he say?" Milo demanded, his voice shaking. "What did your boss tell you about my father?"

"Pack a bag," I said flatly.

Milo’s jaw dropped. "What? Are you out of your mind? I am not going anywhere! This is my home!"

"You're not leaving the house, Milo, I'm bringing my things *here*," I interrupted, stepping forward so there was barely any space between us. 

"My duffel bag, my gear, and my weapons are coming over. Starting tonight, I'm not sleeping on the couch. I'm sleeping in the room right next to yours. You are not out of my sight for a single second."

Milo let out a disbelieving laugh, though his cheeks flushed bright red. "Oh, wonderful. So now the brooding biker who pretends he doesn't know me is going to sleep down my hallway? How am I supposed to feel safe with you lurking around every corner?"

"You'll feel safe because I'll be keeping you alive," I growled, my patience wearing dangerously thin. "And if you keep testing me like this, Milo, keep looking at me with those eyes and talking to me in that tone, I'm going to stop pretending I don't want you."

Milo stopped talking. His breath caught in his throat, and his dark eyes widened as he stared up at me. The air between us suddenly grew thick, heavy, and hot, completely wiping away the fear from the note outside.

"Is that a threat?" Milo whispered, his voice dropping to a shaky, breathless challenge.

"It's a warning," I said, my hands coming up on their own accord to rest gently against the sides of his waist, feeling the heat of his body right through his shirt. 

"I'm trying very hard to be a professional, Milo. But you make it almost impossible."

Milo didn't pull away. Instead, a slow, brave little smirk touched the corners of his lips, and his hands came up to rest flat against my chest, right over my pounding heart.

"Then don't be a professional," Milo whispered, leaning in just a fraction of an inch closer. "Who says I want you to be?”