Page 10 of Razor
"In a minute, baby," I called back, my voice remarkably steady considering the chaos in my head.
Razor waited, giving me space to process.The neon sign blinked its irregular rhythm, red to blue to darkness and back again, illuminating his face in shifting colors.I studied him, looking for signs of deception, for the tells I'd learned to recognize in Tyler—the slight smirk that meant he was lying, the tightness around his eyes that preceded violence.
I found none of those things.Instead, I saw patience.Determination.And a quiet hope in his eyes that caught me completely off guard.
"Why would you do this?"I finally asked, the question that had been burning inside me since he'd first arrived."Why would you marry a stranger?Take on someone else's problems?Risk your life for us?"
Dante called again from the fort, his voice muffled by blankets."Razor!You have to see the trap too!"
"Be right there, little man," Razor called back, his eyes never leaving mine.Then, quieter, just for me: "Any man who puts bruises on you doesn’t deserve to keep breathing."
The simplicity of his answer knocked the air from my lungs.No flowery promises, no manipulation, no subtle threat beneath the words.I knew what he meant.I deserved better.
How long had it been since anyone had said that to me?Had anyone ever?
"It wouldn't be real," I said, needing to clarify, to understand the boundaries."The marriage."
"It would be legal," he corrected."The rest...that's not what this is about.This is about keeping you and Dante safe."
I glanced toward the pillow fort where my son played, happier than I'd seen him in months.He'd taken to Razor immediately, with the pure instinct children sometimes have about people.My own instincts had been dulled by years of gaslighting and fear, but something about Razor's straightforward approach resonated with the part of me that hadn't been completely broken.
"What happens after?"I asked."After Vegas, after the paperwork.Where would we go?"
"My place.I've got room.Club's got security.No one gets in without us knowing."He paused, then added, "It's not fancy, but it's clean.Safe.Dante would have his own space."
I tried to imagine it—living with this man, this stranger who had shown more kindness to my son in hours than Tyler had in years.Who had offered solutions instead of blame.Who looked at me and saw someone worth protecting, not someone to control.
"I need to think," I said finally, though even as the words left my mouth, I knew what my decision would be.What it had to be.
Razor nodded."Take your time.But not too much.We need to move soon."
"Razor!"Dante called again, impatience clear in his voice.
A small smile tugged at the corner of Razor's mouth."Duty calls."
As he turned toward the pillow fort, dropping to his knees to crawl inside at Dante's insistent beckoning, I remained by the window.The neon sign flashed its relentless pattern, but I barely noticed it now.Instead, I watched Razor's interaction with my son—the gentle way he ducked into the fort, the genuine interest in his voice as Dante explained his elaborate trap system, the deep laugh that rumbled out when Dante sprang his "trap" of a pillow dropping onto Razor's head.
A strange feeling bloomed in my chest, unfamiliar after so many months of fear.It took me a moment to recognize it.
Hope.
Not the desperate, clinging hope that had sustained me during the dark nights with Tyler, but a steadier kind built on possibility instead of desperation.
I took a deep breath, feeling the oxygen reach parts of me that had been tight with fear for too long.The future stretched before me—uncertain, yes, but suddenly containing options beyond mere survival.
Marriage to a biker I'd just met.It was crazy.Reckless.Potentially another mistake in a lifetime of them.
But as I watched Razor pretending to be caught in Dante's pillow trap, his playful protests making my son dissolve into giggles, I thought maybe, just maybe, it was also our best chance at the life we deserved.
CHAPTER TWO
Razor
I scanned the crowded terminal, my eyes cataloging every exit, every security camera, every face that lingered too long in our direction.Ophelia clutched Dante's hand so tightly her knuckles had gone white, her eyes darting over her shoulder every few steps like she expected her ex to materialize behind us.The kid bounced between fear and excitement, his Spider-Man backpack bobbing against his small frame.We had twenty minutes to make it through security and to our gate.Twenty minutes to disappear before anyone realized where we'd gone.
"Stay close," I murmured, placing my hand lightly on the small of Ophelia's back to guide her toward the shortest security line.She flinched slightly at my touch, then forced herself to relax.Progress.Small, but there.
"Is that man looking at us?"she whispered, nodding toward a guy in a suit checking his phone.
