Page 107 of Massacre

“Make up with Grace.”

He grumbled, trying to step away, but I held on tighter to him. “She’s hurting right now, King. She feels like you don’t want her. Show her differently.”

“She won’t even see me, and I don’t want her around this shit with the Death Dogs.”

Looking up at the man, I frowned. “Don’t let this stupid war stop you from claiming the woman you love. You didn’t choose this war, King, but you chose Grace. You need to tell her before it’s too late.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing ever is.”

He nodded, kissed my forehead, and then walked me over to Massacre, who handed him my helmet just as a car sped into the lot, slamming on the brakes, before the driver’s door flew open and Grace jumped out. “WAIT!”

Running over to me, the beautiful woman damn near tackled me, hugging my neck hard. “I couldn’t let you leave without a goodbye.”

Holding onto her, I winked at King, and the man just rolled his eyes

“Ready to go, babe?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, releasing Grace, as King, with my helmet in his hands, placed it on my head and secured it before stepping back. Massacre reached out his hand, and I took it, then climbed on his bike behind him. He patted my calf, a rare gesture that spoke of both comfort and apology, before he revved the engine, the exhaust rumbling into the pale morning. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and I saw King wrap his arm around Grace, who snuggled closer to him as she wiped her tears away.

Massacre extended his hand toward King and said, “She will be safe.”

King and Grace both growled. “She better be.”

The two men exchanged a look—something fierce and silent passed between them, like a vow neither needed to voice. I felt the weight of their unspoken words settle in the cool air,mingling with the scent of gasoline and the distant promise of the open road.

Massacre gave a solemn nod, the morning sun glinting off his mirrored visor as he looked back at King, a silent promise passing between them. A hush fell over the lot, the farewell lingering in the chilled air.

As the bike rolled forward, gravel crunching beneath the tires, I glanced back. King stood rooted in place, arm holding Grace tightly, watching us with that mixture of pride and worry that only someone who truly cared could carry.

The wind picked up as we gained speed, tugging loose strands of hair from beneath my helmet. The world blurred into streaks of gold and gray. Every mile put more distance between me and the comfort of the life I was leaving—but with Massacre’s presence steady in front of me, and King’s words echoing in my mind, I felt a strange resolve settle in my chest.

Whatever waited down the road, I knew I wouldn’t face it alone.

THE END