Page 4

CHAPTER FOUR

THIS IS NOT a home.

The stale air of the Dragon Fire clubhouse clung to my skin, thick with mold, sweat, and cigarette smoke. It seeped into everything, my clothes, my hair, my bones. No matter how many showers I took, I couldn’t wash this place off me. Drago only allowed me to clean our room, forbidding me from touching anything else.

Not that I wanted to clean up after these pigs.

I sat on the worn out chair, fingers twisting the hem of my shirt. My gaze flicked to the door—guarded, as always—then back to Lucy. She sat across from me, pale, a faint bruise still darkening her jaw despite the weeks that had passed. Fang did that to her. Bastard. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw it—that fire still burning beneath the exhaustion. That fire was why I hadn’t completely given up. Not yet.

Lucy leaned in, her voice low, careful. Drago and Fang were in the corner, talking club business, but Drago always had his eyes on me. Always.

“Tonight. It has to be tonight, Zeynep,” she whispered, urgency tightening her words. “The guys are heading out for a run. Drago and Fang will be distracted. It’s our chance. If we don’t take it now… we won’t get another one.”

My stomach twisted. Part of me wanted to believe it was possible. Another part—the one that knew what happened when you crossed Drago—whispered that running meant worse than staying. But staying meant suffocation. Death in slow motion.

“Are you sure?” I whispered, glancing at the door again. “They will… they will hunt us. You know this, evet ?” The Turkish word slipped out before I could catch it. Sometimes, when I was scared or tired, the old words came back.

Lucy nodded. “I know. But I’d rather die running than rot in this place another damn day. You with me or not?” Her gaze hardened, daring me to say no.

I swallowed, my pulse a steady thrum in my ears. “I am with you,” I breathed. Because what was the alternative? Drago’s control tightening until there was nothing left of me but a shell. No… not anymore.

Lucy outlined the plan quickly, back exit, stolen keys, an old pickup parked near the fence. My heart pounded as I nodded, committing every detail to memory.

Drago pushed up from his chair, crossing the room in slow, measured steps before pulling me into his arms. His lips brushed my neck. “We’re heading out, baby.”

As always, he led me back to our room, waiting. He wouldn’t leave until I said it.

“I love you, Drago,” I murmured, forcing the words out like splinters under my tongue.

His lips curved against my skin. “I love you too, baby.”

Another kiss.

“I’ll be back soon. Be good.”

I sat on the bed, watching him walk out, listening for the click of the lock as the door sealed me in. His.

Drago was possessive. Controlling. Obsessed. And Lucy was a living reminder of what happened when I disobeyed. The things Fang did to her because of me, beating her, violating her, keeping her prisoner and yet Lucy still considered me a friend when I wouldn’t blame her if she left me behind.

The minutes crawled. Every noise outside the room, every heavy footstep sent adrenaline spiking through my veins.

Then, finally— finally —the clubhouse emptied. The roar of bikes echoed into the night.

And then—I heard it.

A key in the lock.

The door eased open, and there stood Lucy, her expression determined. “Now or never,” she murmured.

We moved fast. Silent. My breath caught in my throat with every creak of the floorboards, every shadow stretching too long. At the back door, Lucy fumbled with the keys. Come on, come on…

It clicked open. Relief nearly dropped me to my knees. We slipped outside into the thick night air, humid and heavy in my lungs. For the first time in ages, hope flickered inside me.

Then— shouts.

Someone had seen.

Panic surged.

“Run!” Lucy hissed.

We sprinted . Gravel crunched underfoot. My lungs burned. The truck sat just ahead—beat-up and rusty, but salvation gleaming under the moonlight.

Lucy dove into the driver’s seat, hands shaking as she jammed the key into the ignition. I yanked open the passenger door, every second stretching too long.

The engine sputtered. Once. Twice.

Then it roared to life.

“Go!” I screamed, my heartbeat a hammer against my ribs.

Tires spun against the dirt. We peeled out, a cloud of dust kicking up behind us.

Then—headlights flared to life. Engines revved.

They were coming. Of course they were.

Lucy’s jaw clenched, eyes flashing in the rearview mirror. “Hold on, Zeynep.”

I gripped the seat with white-knuckled fingers, wind whipping through the open window.

Fear coiled in my chest, squeezing tight. But underneath it…

Freedom.

It was out there. Just beyond the road ahead.

Please… let us make it.