Firetap
1094 Words
"Jax!" Someone shouted, while running towards their direction.
Immediately, he turned his head to the direction of the racing footsteps.
"Jax! A part of the compound is on fire!"
"What the f**k did you just spill out?" Jax races off immediately, the other ran after him too.
Jax stopped on seeing thick cloud of smoke rising from the burning part.
Not all of it. Just the storage garage — where the Dead Reapers kept their backup gear and bikes.
It went up in flames fast. Too fast.
Jax knew immediately.
“Gasoline bomb,” he muttered, squinting at the blaze. “They were watching. Waiting".
"But how?" Lena asked quietly, feeling terrible while she stood behind him, heart hammering against her ribs as fire lit the sky orange. “You think… is it because of my call?”
Jax didn’t answer her. He didn’t need to.
Suddenly, two bikes roared into the compound from the west gate, both riders masked, their guns drawn. Instantly, Jax shoved Lena behind a black SUV, and drew his weapon without hesitation.
Gunfire ripped through the air at once. Lena clamped her hands over her ears, crouching low, trying not to scream as the shots echoed like thunder.
Then—silence. A single thud. Jax stepped back into view, chest heaving, blood splattered across his forearm. “One got away. But not far.”
She stared at him like he was something she didn’t understand. “You didn’t even flinch?.”
He looked at her, eyes distant. “You don’t get to flinch in my world, Lena. You hesitate, you die.”
She didn’t know what to say to that.
Later, after the fire was out and the men regrouped, Jax stood alone outside the gates, staring out into the night. Lena approached him quietly.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
“I’ve bled worse than this, Lena!.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen…” He glanced at her then, and for the first time, Lena saw it. The weight. The quiet desperation buried beneath the hard shell.
“It always happens, Lena. It’s just a matter of when.”
She stepped closer. “So what now?”
Jax turned to her fully. “Now? We go on lockdown. We prepare for war. And you... you stay close, and away from phones.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You already are,” he said.. She swallowed.
“But,” he added, softer now, “you’re mine to carry.”
Someone like Jax had been raised to believe weakness was a death sentence.
He'd buried his brother because of it. Watched his father rot behind bars because of it. And every lesson since had carved the same message into his bones: care for no one, and no one can be used against you.
But Lena? She was a crack in the armor he couldn’t weld shut.
He watched her sleep curled up on the battered leather couch in his office, a blanket draped around her, mouth parted slightly. Even now, after gunfire and firebombs, she looked… soft.
Like the world hadn’t already ruined her.
Why the hell are you still here? he asked himself.
She could’ve run. Could’ve begged to be taken to a safehouse, called in a favor, even tried to escape. But she hadn’t.
And that scared him more than any rival club.
“Prez,” a voice snapped over the comm radio. Tank. One of his most trusted men. “That Vulture who got away? Left something behind.”
Jax keyed the mic. “What?”
“A burner phone. One contact. Text came through ten minutes ago.”
Jax’s jaw clenched. “Read it.”
“‘She’s his weakness. Hit him where it’ll bleed.’”
A slow burn ignited in Jax’s gut. Not fear. Pure rage.
"If they think they can get me through her, then they are in for a surprise! But then, what if they are right?" By the time he got back to Lena, she was awake, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“You okay?” she asked, voice hoarse.
He stared at her for a long second. Then crossed the room in two strides and knelt in front of her.
She blinked. “Jax?”
He didn’t speak. Just rested his palm against her cheek and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“You matter to me,” he said, voice low and ragged. “And that’s a damn problem.”
Lena's breath caught. “Why?”
“Because now they know it too.”
---
Lena’s eyes burned with a new fire the next morning.
No more hiding. No more running.
She stormed into the main room, where Jax and his crew were hashing out plans and scanning security footage.
“Jax,” she said, voice steady and fierce, “I’m not some damsel you protect. I’m standing with you.”
The room went quiet.
Jax’s eyes locked with hers, surprise flickering beneath the surface.
“You don’t get it,” he said lowly. “This isn’t a game. You’re a target.”
“I know,” she shot back. “But I’m not leaving. Not without a fight.”
Tank chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s got guts, Prez.”
Jax’s jaw tightened. “You’re putting yourself in the line of fire.”
“I’m already there,” Lena said. “I’m not just your responsibility. I’m your partner. If you want me to survive, then teach me how to fight. Teach me everything.”
Jax studied her — the determination, the spark that refused to be snuffed out.
After a long pause, he nodded. “Alright. We start today.”
The days that followed blurred into grueling training sessions — sparring, weapons practice, situational drills.
Lena was a quick learner, her gentle demeanor masking fierce grit.
Jax watched her transform — not just physically, but mentally. She was no longer the scared bookshop owner he’d found hiding behind dusty shelves.
She was a force. That night, as they sat side by side on the compound’s rooftop, the city lights flickering beneath them, Lena broke the silence.
“If this is war,” she said softly, “then I’m ready to fight. With you.”
Jax’s gaze softened. “You’re the only reason I’m still holding on.”
She smiled, a small, hopeful thing.
“We ride or die,” she whispered.
He smiled back, a rare, genuine curve of his lips.
“Ride or die.”
- Writer
