008 Quiet Aftermath

The desert swallowed sound too well.

One minute, the road echoed with gunfire, the next it was just the distant tick of cooling engines. Ashley sat stiff on the back of Nolan’s bike, her fingers locked around the strap of her duffel. Her ears still rang from the echoes of gunshots, and every blink replayed flashes of Jax’s knife sinking into a man’s throat.

They had survived.

Nolan raised a hand and the convoy slowed down, pulling off the road into a carved hollow. The bikes rolled to a stop, headlights dimming one by one until only the moon kept them lit. The Vipers dismounted, checking weapons, muttering, dragging the dead into a pile at the edge of the sand.

Ashley noticed how practiced it all seemed. No panic, or hesitation. They stripped weapons, kicked boots off corpses, reloaded—every motion done with the same ease she’d use to fold laundry. It chilled her, the way death was just another part of their night.

She slid off, her legs shaky. The earth felt uneven beneath her boots, or maybe it was her body still vibrating from fear.

Cole was there in an instant, steadying her with a hand at her elbow. His touch was gentle. “Easy,” he said. “You’re shaking like hell.”

Ashley gave a weak laugh that came out more like a shiver. “I just watched men die.”

Cole’s hand tightened slightly, steadying her before she could sway. For a second, he didn’t look like a reckless kid trying to prove himself. He looked older, someone she could lean on.

Cole’s jaw clenched. His wide eyes softened as they fell on her. “Yeah. And you didn’t run. That counts for something.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. For the first time since the ambush, someone wasn’t barking orders or spilling blood—they were looking at her. 

Cole crouched in front of her, pulling a small kit from his saddlebag. His movements were quick. He unscrewed a bottle of water, dampened a rag, and reached for her cheek.

“Hold still,” he said.

Ashley froze at the closeness, but didn’t pull back as he dabbed at her skin. She hadn’t realized until now that a shallow cut streaked across her jawline, likely from flying gravel or a near miss with the chain. It stung sharply under the cool cloth.

“Doesn’t look bad,” Cole murmured. “Surface wound. Just needs cleaning.”

Ashley gasped softly at the concentration in his face, the way his brow furrowed, lips pressed thin. For someone who had just fired a gun, there was nothing violent in the way he touched her now. Every stroke of the cloth was slow, and protective.

The sting of the cut blurred into something else—an ache low in her chest, a flutter that didn’t feel like fear. Cole smelled of smoke, and the faint salt of sweat, but underneath it was something warm that reminded her of home. Of safety. A lie, maybe, but one she almost wanted to believe.

Her throat tightened. “You…you do this often?”

He snorted. “Patch jobs? All the damn time. We don’t exactly have a doctor on call.” His eyes flicked up to hers, boyish grin tugging at his lips. “Guess that makes me the next best thing.”

She laughed softly, the sound surprising her. It felt strange, almost wrong, to laugh with blood still cooling on the road behind them. But Cole’s grin made it impossible not to.

As he worked, Ashley let her eyes wander. Nolan stood apart, phone in hand, speaking in low tone. He was always planning or directing. Ace leaned against his bike, smoke curling from his lips, watching her with a half-smile that was more intrigue than mockery. Jax lingered in the shadows again, his gaze flicked toward her more than once.

The sight unsettled her. Nolan was strategic, Ace was charm wrapped in danger, Jax was silent violence—but Cole, right now, was warmth. She hadn’t expected that from the reckless one. She hadn’t expected any of them to be more than monsters.

They weren’t just criminals. Not to her, anymore.

Cole pressed a bandage against her cheek and smoothed it into place. “There,” he said softly. “Not perfect, but okay.”

Ashley exhaled, tension loosening from her shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” His voice dipped, serious now. “Just…don’t scare me like that again. When that Fang came for you—” He broke off, shook his head. “I thought I was too far back to reach you.”

Her chest squeezed. “But Jax—”

“Yeah.” Cole’s tone carried a grudging respect. “Jax handled it. He always does.” His eyes found hers again. “But I’d rather it be me next time.”

Ashley swallowed hard, heat crawling up her throat. She didn’t know how to answer that, so she didn’t.

Instead, she watched him pack up the kit. 

When he stood, Cole brushed dirt off his jeans and gave her a half-smile. “Are you good to ride?”

She nodded, though her legs still trembled. “Yeah.”

“Good.” His hand brushed hers as he turned away, lingering just long enough to make her pulse trip.

Ashley looked back at the others. They were dangerous, lawless, blood-stained men. And yet, one had tended her cut like she mattered.

The realization sat heavy and strange in her chest. These weren’t just criminals anymore. They were becoming something else to her.

And beneath the fear, buried deep where she couldn’t admit it aloud, was the smallest spark of wanting. Wanting their protection. Wanting their eyes on her. Wanting the impossible.

And that, she thought with a shiver, might be the most dangerous part of all.