Page 6 of Bolt's Flame
Fiona nodded, but she still didn’t say anything. I pulled the truck into the lot, parking near the entrance to the clubhouse. The lights from inside spilled out onto the ground, casting long shadows across the dirt. I cut the engine, and for a minute none of us moved, like we were still grasping the situation.
Horse was the first to break the silence. “Let’s get inside,” he said, his voice gruff. He opened the door and climbed out, turning to help Fiona out of the truck.
I watched as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the clubhouse door. She was in pain, moving slowly, still wrapped in the blanket, as Horse helped her inside.
I followed behind, my eyes never leaving Fiona.
“YOU’LL STAY HEREuntil I know it’s safe,” Dad said,leading me upstairs, down the hall and into a small bedroom. The room was simple—a bed, a dresser—but it had an attachedbathroom. A luxury in this renovated old home, where rooms with bathrooms were reserved for high-ranking club members. I felt a small wave of relief; at least I wouldn’t have to share.
“James will be lookin’ for you,” Dad continued, his voice tight. “He needs to be dealt with before you can even think about goin’ out on your own.”
“Dad, he probably won’t even care that I’m gone,” I said, though I didn’t believe my own words. “Give it a month or so, and I’ll file for divorce.”
“You’ll file those papers tomorrow, young lady,” Brenda’s voice cut through the room from the doorway, and I breathed a sigh of relief, taking comfort that she hadn’t changed, still the same face heavy with make-up, teased bottle blonde hair and that same attitude, and the closest thing to a living mom that I had. “You’ll cut ties with that piece of shit, and fast.”
I sat gingerly on the bed, my entire body aching, but I managed a small smile for Brenda. She’d been a mother to me after mine died when I was seven. She’d come to the house, taken care of me, made sure I was fed and looked after—just like I was one of her own. Even now, in her early fifties, I knew without a doubt that she kept the club in line. Nobody messed with Brenda.
“If I file right away, he’ll know where to find me,” I said, hating how small my voice sounded, how fear twisted my words.
“I’ll handle him,” Dad said, his hands clenching into fists. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Horse, give me a minute alone with Fiona, would you?” Brenda asked, her tone softer now, more concerned. “Go get Rune, see if he can have a look at her. Make sure she’s okay.”
Dad nodded, a look passing between them that said more than words ever could. He left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Brenda sat down beside me on the bed,her fingers brushing lightly over the bruises on my face, sadness deep in her eyes.
“Fiona, I know you’re scared,” she said softly. “And I know how hard it was to make that call to your daddy. But you have to stand up to that bastard, or he’ll never leave you alone. It won’t be easy, and there’ll be hard times ahead, but you’ve got your daddy, me, and this whole club behind you.”
That’s when I broke. My arms wrapped around her, and I sobbed, my body shaking with the force of it. Brenda held me close, whispering that it would be okay that we’d get through this. When I finally pulled back, my voice was barely a whisper. “I’m just so afraid he’ll find me, and this time... this time he’ll kill me.”
“Not on our watch, he won’t,” she said, wiping my tears away with her thumb.
“Listen to Brenda,” Dad said from the doorway, his face dark with anger. It was clear he’d heard my last words. “No one will ever lay a hand on you in anger again.”
He stepped into the room, motioning for Rune to follow him. Rune was hard to miss—heavily tattooed, long black hair pulled back, and eyes so grassy green they didn’t seem real. He was older than me by several years, like most of the men in the club. I’d just turned twenty-six last month, sitting alone on the couch while my husband worked late, claiming I hadn’t earned a birthday gift.
“Let me take a look at you, Fiona,” Rune said gently as he sat beside me.
“We’ll give you two some space,” Brenda said, guiding Dad out of the room and closing the door behind them.
“I’m fine, really,” I murmured, even though I knew it wasn’t true. Rune’s eyes scanned my face, his expression hardening with each bruise he saw.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not fine,” he said, his voice steady but kind. He reached for the bag he’d brought with him. “Where else did he hit you besides your face?” His eyes went to my neck, his jaw tightening. “And did he cut you anywhere else?”
Shame washed over me, and I dropped my head, feeling tears welling up again. “He hit me in the face until I fell... then he kicked me in the stomach a few times before he left. No other cuts.”
“Can I take a look?” Rune asked, his voice gentle. “I’m not a doctor, but I know enough to tell if you need more care. Plus, we need to document your injuries for your split from that coward.”
I nodded, giving him a small, shaky smile as I lay back on the bed. Rune’s hands were careful, his fingers probing my ribs with a tenderness that surprised me. He watched my face closely for any sign of pain.
“You’ve got a few bruised ribs,” he finally said as I sat up. “It’s a wonder you don’t have internal injuries.”
“I’ve learned to curl up, so my legs and arms take most of the hits,” I admitted, shrugging as if it didn’t matter.
Rune’s smile was sad as he pulled out a couple of small bottles from his bag. “I dabble in herbal remedies,” he said, chuckling at the surprise on my face. “Yeah, I know—a big, tattooed biker into herbal remedies. Who’d have thought?”
“No, I just... I wasn’t expecting...” I stammered as he laughed again.
“It’s okay, Fiona. I’m not ashamed of who I am,” he said, his smile growing. “Use this cream on your face—it’ll help with the bruising. And this one,” he said, holding up another bottle, “I want you to rub on your stomach and back before you wrap those ribs.”