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I can feel the blood oozing from a dozen different wounds, each one screaming for attention.
My vision’s a mess of swirling colors and darkening edges, but I see Blake’s boots stop right in front of my face.
“Look at you,” he sneers, crouching down to pick up a jagged piece of glass. “Pathetic.”
He grabs my wrist with a grip like iron, yanking it toward him. The pain is immediate and blinding as he drags the shard across my skin.
“Ask your new boyfriend about slit wrists,” he says, his voice dripping with venom.
I bite back a scream, feeling the searing cut deep into my flesh.
Everything’s fading, the room turning into a tunnel of darkness. But above the roar of agony, I hear something—faint but unmistakable.
Motorcycles.
The distant rumble grows louder, vibrating through the floor, through my bones. It’s familiar, like the dum of a heartbeat. Hope flares, even as my world starts to slip away.
“You’re done,” Blake mutters as he heads through the back door.
The last thing I hear before everything goes black is the roaring symphony of engines, praying they get to me before it’s too late.
I don’t want to die. Not yet.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bama
My heart pounds like a jackhammer in my chest as I gun the engine of my bike, tearing down the street.
The wind whips at my face, but all I can see is Jordyn’s text flashing in my mind: “911 - Tart.”
Something’s wrong—wrong enough for her to send that message to the entire club’s group chat.
“Come on, come on!” I mutter, twisting the throttle harder.
Billings blurs past me in a haze of neon signs and darkened windows.
The evening air is cool but does nothing to chill the fire burning inside me.
“Hold tight, Jordyn,” I whisper, even though she can’t hear me.
“Keep up!” Bolt yells over the wind, his voice a growl of urgency.
I grit my teeth, pushing the throttle harder.
My mind races with worst-case scenarios. Blood. Screams. Her lying broken and alone.
No, I can’t think like that. Focus.
Tart looms up ahead, its neon sign flickering like a dying star.
My heart hammers against my ribs.
A few members stayed back, but a few others are supposed to meet us here.
I’m riding out with Tex, Dracus, Zane, and Bolt.
We skid to a halt, gravel spraying under our tires.
