Page 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE ENGINE RUMBLED between my thighs, sinking into my bones as we tore down the back roads. Chain and Thunder flanked me, their headlights knifing through the trees, the only steady thing in a world that smelled like rain and dirt.

I told myself this ride would clear my head.

It didn’t.

If anything, every mile dragged me deeper under.

Her face stayed burned behind my eyelids—the way she looked curled up in that bed, lost and breakable. The way she reached for me without even knowing she did.

I gritted my teeth and leaned heavier into the throttle, eating up the road like I could outrun the image. She didn’t belong here. Didn’t belong anywhere near the hell following me. But it was too late to save her from it now.

A flicker of light up ahead caught my eye.

Chain’s hand lifted, signaling slow.

We rolled down, engines snarling low as we crested a bend in the road.

That’s when we saw it.

An old station wagon, half-buried in the ditch, smoke curling from the hood. Spray-painted across the rusted side in fresh, blood-red letters: DFMC

Thunder killed his engine first. “Jesus. These assholes want us to find this.”

Chain pulled alongside me, kicking down his stand. “Looks that fuckin’ way.”

“You bet you’re ass they do,” I muttered, scanning the dark tree line automatically. “Those bastards are tryin’ to pull some shit.”

I dismounted, boots hitting the gravel with a dull crunch.

The station wagon was torched from the inside out, glass spiderwebbed and blackened.

No bodies.

No blood.

Just a message.

I stepped closer, drawn by something colder than rage, something deeper.

That’s when I saw him.

A shadow between the trees. Low. Moving careful. Wrong kind of careful. I froze, blood icing over.

Scout.

Watching us.

My hand dropped to the Glock at my hip, instincts firing before thought caught up.

Thunder saw it too. “Movement—three o’clock,” he muttered under his breath, voice tight.

Chain shifted, reaching for his weapon, but I was already moving.

Fast.

Silent.

I broke from the road, boots finding purchase in the loose dirt, heart hammering against my ribs. Branches clawed at my arms as I cut into the trees.

The shadow darted deeper into the woods, fast as a snake.

Motherfucker was baiting us.

I pushed harder, lungs burning, tunnel-vision locked on the figure slipping between the trees. For a heartbeat, it felt good, the rush, the focus, the rage with teeth. Until a second figure peeled off the dark further out—another one.

Shit.

Trap.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” Chain barked behind me, voice urgent, iron hard. “Now, Mystic!”

I skidded to a halt, boots digging in. I stood there for a second longer than I should have, breathing hard, gun still drawn.

Chain caught up, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me half a step back toward the bikes. “Not here, brother,” he growled low. “Not tonight. Who knows what the fuck they were leadin’ us into.”

Slowly, I shoved the Glock back into its holster.

We jogged back to the road, engines snarling to life as we mounted up. As we peeled away, my eyes dragged once more over the woods. Over the place where that shadow disappeared.

This wasn’t random. They knew we were coming this way tonight.

And... they almost got us.

I leaned heavier on the throttle, the bike roaring under me. But my mind wasn’t on the road anymore. It was back at the clubhouse.

Back with her.

The girl who trusted me to keep the monsters out.

And the sick truth was... the monsters were already here.

The clubhouse loomed in the darkness, the old wood siding catching the flicker of the porch lights as I rumbled up the drive. I killed the engine, swung off the bike, and stood there for a second longer than I needed to, letting the silence wrap around me.

Thunder and Chain peeled off toward the garage without a word.

No need.

We all knew what we saw out there. And we all knew it was just the beginning.

I dragged a hand down my face, the sweat and grit of the ride sticking to my skin like a second layer of grime I couldn't scrape off.

The front door creaked as I pushed through.

I didn’t head for my room. Didn’t stop at the bar. Didn’t speak to the few brothers still hanging around. My boots ate up the hallway floor, heavy and certain. I stopped outside her door. Same cracked wood. Same chipped paint.

My hand hovered for half a second over the knob. I swear I could hear her breathing, slow and even, through the gap beneath the door.

Alive.

Safe.

For now.

My throat burned with everything I couldn’t say.

Everything I couldn’t promise.

I let my hand fall back to my side and leaned against the wall instead, sliding down until I was sitting on the cold floor, back pressed to the wood.

I’d keep watch from here.

Didn’t trust the monsters outside.

Sure as hell didn’t trust the ones still crawling around inside me either.

She didn’t know it yet. But a war was coming. And I’d tear the whole goddamn world apart before I let it touch her again.

“You’re sleepin’ easy tonight because I’m still breathin’.”