Page 21 of Unhinged

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

GEARS

The roar of our engines drowns out everything else, but my instincts are sharp, tuned to the pulse of the ride, to the wind in my face, the gravel under our tires.

Arrow’s ahead of me, pushing his bike hard, his back a streak of black and chrome in my peripheral.

Acid’s right beside me, his bike growling like a hungry animal, and I can feel it in my chest—the way we’re all synced up, all heading for something we can’t ignore. Something’s wrong. I know it.

It’s the kind of wrong that gets under your skin.

I woke up today with this gnawing feeling in my gut, like I was being watched, like eyes were on me, no matter where I went.

My hair stood on end, even as I got dressed, as I grabbed my keys, as I walked out the door.

I kept looking over my shoulder, like I could sense something, but there was nothing there.

I told myself it was just nerves, maybe too much shit running through my head, but I couldn’t shake it.

And then, back at the house, Acid caught my eye, the question in his gaze obvious. “You feel that?” he asked, like he was trying to keep it between us, but the tension in the air made it hard to ignore.

I nodded, a tight knot in my chest. “Yeah. Something’s off.”

Arrow didn’t need to speak. I could see it in the way he carried himself—rigid, alert, like he was waiting for the first sign of trouble. He gave me a sharp nod, and we both knew. We were all keyed up, but none of us could pinpoint why.

It can only be one thing.

Our omega.

I shouldn’t be able to feel it—we’re not even marked yet. But the bond is there, buzzing in the back of my mind like something I can’t shake off. It’s weird. Bonds aren’t supposed to work like this. Not without the mark.

But somehow... I can feel her.

Like, really feel her. Something’s off. She’s in trouble—I don’t know how I know, I just do .

This isn’t a normal bond. It can’t be.

It has to be ‘cause it’s Kismet or something. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

And if that’s what this is… then I have to get to her. No matter what.

We just ride harder, faster, like our lives depend on it, and maybe, in a way, they do.

Then I see it.

A battered car with a crumpled front haphazardly parked in the field, looking completely out of place.

My eyes narrow. There’s no way a car that shitty just happens to end up there.

But it's the figure behind the door that freezes me, makes me jerk hard on the throttle. My gut twists. I know that hair. That’s her.

Brydgett.

And just beside the car—a man in a greasy suit, standing by the passenger side of an SUV that’s parked too close. His stance is tense, gun drawn, the barrel aimed in her direction.

My blood drains from my face as I take in the scene.

She’s crouched behind the battered car, gun in her hand, trying to fight her way out of whatever fucking mess she's in. Her hair’s sticking to her face, and she's too damn still for my liking, like she’s waiting for something, someone, to end her.

I don’t care how deep the shit is; I’m not letting her go down without a fight.

Not my fucking woman.

I glance at Arrow, then Acid. They see it, too. We're not even close enough to take a clean shot at the bastard with the gun, but I know we're not about to let him win.

I hear the gunshots. Three, maybe four, rapid fire from behind the car. The sound of the bullets hitting metal and gravel, and my pulse races. She's still in this, still fucking fighting. But the bastard's got her cornered. My eyes are glued to her, watching her every move. I see her jerk back.

“Brydgett!” I shout, but the sound is swallowed by the wind. She's out of sight now, disappearing behind the car.

My heart slams in my chest as I instinctively jerk the throttle, speeding us forward, but it's not enough. Not fast enough.

Then—fuck—Acid pulls his gun out. He doesn’t even hesitate. He lines up his shot, steady hands, and the loud crack of his gun is followed by a sickening silence.

I don't wait for him to confirm it. I’m already pulling my gun from its holster, firing in quick succession.

The bastard with the greasy suit—he stumbles, curses, and then makes a break for it, rushing back to the SUV like a coward.

Tires screech as he guns it, kicking up a cloud of dust. The bastard knows when he’s lost.

I glance at the SUV, barely catching the plate through the haze of dust. A glance, and it’s burned into my brain. My fingers twitch on the throttle, ready to chase, but there's no time.

Brydgett.

We slam our bikes to a stop, quickly dismounting and standing them upright before taking off running. I don’t care about anything except getting to her. My heart’s in my throat, and my legs feel like they’re moving on their own. We round the car, and what I see hits me like a punch to the gut.

There she is, slumped against the side of the car. Blood. It’s already soaking through her shirt, her breath shallow, and her eyes… they’re half-lidded, barely open, like she’s fading fast.

“Brydgett!” I roar, dropping to my knees beside her, feeling the warmth of her blood soaking into my palms. Panic claws at me, but I force it back. Not yet. Not now. I can’t let myself fall apart. Not when she needs me.

I press my hand against her side, trying to apply pressure, but it’s not enough. I need help.

Her scent—jasmine and orange, just a few days ago, was so sharp and unmistakable—is barely there. Muted. Faint. Maybe it’s the blood masking it, or maybe she got back on blockers in the days she’s been missing. Either way, it unsettles me. She doesn’t smell like her .

“Stay with me,” I beg. “Just… just hold on. Please.”

I press harder, desperate to stop the bleeding, to keep her here—with me—but her breathing is so shallow, and her skin’s gone cold beneath my fingers.

Then, through the haze of adrenaline, I hear it.

“Mom?”

The voice is raw, strained. It’s Judge. He’s peeking up from the backseat of the car, his face pale, eyes wide. His gaze flicks between Brydgett and the three of us, the realization dawning on him. His lips tremble, but he doesn’t speak. He can’t. Not right now.

My heart stops for a beat, but it’s Arrow’s intake of breath that shakes me.

Acid’s gaze hardens, fists clenched, his body taut with barely controlled fury.

And me? I can’t even breathe. We’re all paralyzed by the sight of her, broken and bloodied.

The woman we all share a bond with, the one our alpha nature demands we protect.

I want to tell Judge that everything’s going to be fine, but I can’t. I can’t make promises I don’t know if I can keep.

Arrow kneels beside me. “Shit, man. What the hell happened?”

I try to catch my breath. My chest feels tight, suffocating. “She’s bleeding,” I rasp. It’s all I can get out. The words stick in my throat, heavy and choking on the reality of the situation.

“Who the fuck was that guy?” Acid growls. His fists are clenched so tightly, the knuckles are white, his body radiating with raw anger.

“Doesn’t matter now,” I snap, pulling Brydgett’s head into my lap, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. The bond—the invisible tether between us—barely pulses, but I feel her slipping away, fighting to hold on. “We’ve got to get her out of here. Fast.”

Acid’s eyes flick to me, then to Brydgett, and his jaw clenches harder. He looks like he’s about to rip someone apart, but we all know it’s not the right time. Not now. There’s nothing left to do except keep her with us, keep fighting for her.

But even as I say it, I know. We’re all too late. The fucker’s already gone, vanished into the dust. And now, all I can think about is making sure Brydgett survives.

“We need to get her medical attention right fucking now!” I bark.

The words hit the air like a slap, and I don’t give a damn how loud I sound.

My heart is pounding in my chest, blood rushing in my ears, and my hands are shaking as I fight to keep it together.

She’s slipping, and I’m running out of time.

“How?” Arrow adds. “We’re too far to call a brother, and she sure as hell can’t safely be on one of our bikes.”

Acid murmurs, low and deadly serious, “She won’t survive the time it’ll take to get back to the club to see Doc.”

He’s right. All of us have been thinking it, but none of us dared to say it out loud. The car’s not going anywhere, and she’s in no condition to be moved like this.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, looking at her fragile form, trying to find some way to fix this. She’s barely holding on.

“We can call Ike,” Judge pipes up. “He’s fixed Mom up before. He can help.”

“We don’t know him, kid,” I say, the doubt clear. “How the hell will we get a hold of him?”

Judge doesn’t hesitate. “I know his number.”

I pull my phone from my cut, handing it over to him without thinking. He dials quickly, his hands shaking just as much as mine.

“Ike? It’s me, Judge,” he says when the line picks up. “Mom’s hurt. The car won’t drive, and we need you to come get her right now. She was shot and is bleeding a lot.”

“I don’t know where we are. The side of the road,” Judge continues, glancing at me for confirmation. “Hold on, someone here can tell you.”

He hands me the phone, and I press it to my ear. My fingers are slick with Brydgett’s blood, but I don’t give a shit. I’m past caring about anything but getting her help.

“This is Gears,” I growl into the phone.

“Who the fuck are you and what kind of name is Gears?” Ike’s gravelly voice barks.

“We’ll deal with that later,” I retort. “We’re at mile marker 37, County Road G. We’re coming with her, wherever you take her.”

“Be there in twenty minutes, tops. Keep her alive no matter what it takes, or I’ll rip your fucking heart out of your chest while it still beats.” Ike hangs up.

“Alright,” I mutter. “Bye.”

I hang up and glance at Judge. “He’s a cranky son of a bitch, huh?”

Judge doesn’t flinch, just gives me a small, tight-lipped smile. “He loves Mom like a daughter. Taught her everything she knows. He’s our only family.”

I nod, respecting that.

"Who was that man who was here?" Arrow asks, cutting through the silence.

"I don’t know," Judge murmurs. "But he waved at Mom before his driver started chasing us."

“His driver?” Acid asks, disbelief creeping into his voice.

“Yeah,” Judge adds. “Mom shot him. He’s dead over there somewhere.”

I jerk my head toward Acid and Arrow, signaling for them to check it out. We were all so focused on getting to Brydgett that we didn’t notice the body. Good. My woman’s a badass, and that little fact makes my chest swell with pride.

A heavy silence hangs over us as Acid steps toward the body. His boots crunch on the ground, the sound sharp and unnatural in the stillness, as he crouches down for a closer look. Time seems to slow, each second stretching longer than the one before.

When she wakes up, though, she’s going to be mad as hell that we found her. But it’s clear we’re not the only ones she’s running from. Maybe we’re the lesser of two evils. Maybe.

“I’ll be damned,” Acid mutters under his breath as he looks over the body. “I knew she was tough, but damn. She doesn’t play.”

Arrow just shakes his head, eyes scanning the area as if searching for any more threats. “Whoever that guy is, he’s after her. We need to know why.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, my hand still pressed to Brydgett’s side, doing my best to stop the bleeding.

I glance back at Judge, who’s standing silently, his eyes darting between us and his mom. I can see the worry in his gaze, but there’s also something else—something like determination.

I holler to my brother and best friend, “What’s the deal? Is he dead?” my hands pressed to Brydgett’s side.

Acid grunts. “As a doornail. She popped him right between the eyes.”

Judge's eyes snap to me, and I see something flicker in them—understanding, maybe. He knows what this means. What it could mean for his mom. For all of us.

Arrow digs through the man’s pockets and pulls out a wallet. “Name’s Jim Wolfe. Forty-one. Lives in Pinecrest Hollow, Arkansas.”

“What the fuck is he doing in Virginia?” I growl, my mind racing.

“We’re gonna find out.” Arrow hands the wallet to Acid.

We all sit in the quiet, waiting, the seconds stretching into what feels like hours. The only sound is the distant hum of the wind, the soft shuffle of feet, and the occasional rustling of leaves.

Then, without warning, the sharp screech of tires breaks the stillness.

A shelter green Ford Raptor barrels toward us, the engine roaring, the tires screeching as it comes to a halt in front of us.

Acid and Arrow both snap to action, drawing their guns in an instant, their bodies tense, ready for whatever comes next.

“Wait!” Judge shouts. “That’s Ike’s truck!”

The truck slams on the brakes, sending a cloud of dust into the air, and a man gets out, jogging toward me and my omega.

He’s built like a brick wall, shoulders broad and thick, with dark stubble covering his jaw.

His face looks like it’s been through a few battles—tough, scarred, and lined with experience, but his eyes are sharp, focused.

He looks like Sylvester Stallone in Rambo —a little older, maybe, but no less dangerous.

“Fuck,” he mutters, like he’s been worn down by years of hard living. “Get her in the truck.”

Without hesitation, I scoop Brydgett up, cradling her gently in my arms, and hurry to the backseat, setting her inside.

"I can’t leave my bike here, kid," I say. "You need to hold pressure on your mom’s side. Hard. You hear me? Don’t let go until Ike tells you to."

Judge slides in next to her. He nods, his hands trembling as he replaces mine on her side, pressing hard to stop the bleeding.

"We’ll follow you," I tell Ike. He’s already climbing behind the wheel, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel.

“No funny business or you won’t live to see tomorrow,” he growls, and before I even get the door shut, he slams the gas and starts backing up.

The truck shoots off, and Acid, Arrow, and I run for our bikes, firing them up and speeding after him.

I send a silent prayer up to whoever’s listening. “Please don’t let our omega die. We don’t even know her. This can’t be the end. We haven’t even proven to her we’re good men.”