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“Any idea where we’re going to go?”

He shrugs. “Someone suggested Emma and Nix’s house since it’s fucking massive and already secured.”

“Why is it secured?” I ask and he takes another drink before slamming the bottle back down on the bar with a wince. His eyes look glassy and I sigh. Jesus, he’s so far gone already.

“We use their house sometimes to keep the girls we rescue safe until we can move them so Blaze ordered that we make it as safe as we can for them,” he says before grabbing the bottle again. “They have cameras, perimeter fences, motion detecters… the works.”

I nod, turning to gaze out over the clubhouse as people frantically try to pack everything we could possibly need and my heart climbs into my throat when I hear the sound of glass breaking again. This clubhouse, which has felt so safe since the moment I got here, now feels as dangerous as the other side of the fence and I don’t want to be here another second longer than we have to. After a few more minutes, Blaze steps into the room and whistles again.

“Okay, Rodriguez will be here momentarily with the fire department so let’s get all this shit packed into cars and get out of here.”

I turn to Travis and hold out my hand. “Give me your keys.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, digging them out of his pocket and dropping them into my hand before he stands up with his bottle and stumbles. My muscles tense, ready to react if I have to but he catches himself and takes a deep breath as he stands up straight.

“Do we really need to bring that?” I ask, pointing to the bottle as I grab my bags and he glances down at it before nodding.

“Yeah, we do. I’m being run out of my home by a psychopath. He brought these people here and made them hate us so this is all his fault… you know?”

I nod, my heart breaking for him as I wrap my arm around his waist. “Yeah, I know, baby.”

“You need help with anything, Row?” Lincoln asks, stopping next to me and glaring at Travis as he leans against me. I sigh and nod.

“Could you grab his bags?”

He narrows his eyes. “Is he fucking drunk?”

“He is,” Travis answers, holding up the bottle of booze. “Because, fuck you, Warren. That’s why.”

“Jesus Christ. Just get him to his car and I’ll get the bags,” Lincoln mutters, flashing Travis a look of disappointment but I don’t hang around long enough for him to start berating him, not that it would do any good at this point. Since I’ve been here, I’ve noticed that, as time passed, there was this edge to Travis’s demeanor and I know he’s been so stressed trying to save all of us from Warren but it feels like more than that. The problem is, I’ve been too afraid to ask, too afraid to upset the good thing he and I have going.

When we get out to the Impala, I open the passenger door and help him inside before running around the hood and slipping behind the wheel and starting it. Glancing down the lot, I see Lincoln loading all of our bags into his truck and nod, checking one thing off of my list before rolling my window down to listen to instructions. Red and blue lights bounce off of the clubhouse followed by the “whoop” of a siren and I glance down as four police cruisers pull to a stop outside of the gate and the officers jump out. As they begin to push the crowd back, I scan the area and frown. Where the hell did the other officers go? The ones that have been posted out there day and night since this all started to keep everyone safe.

Two officers jump back into their squad cars and flip a U-turn in opposite directions to act as a barrier between us and the crowd as Blaze stands in front of us and motions for us to move out. He runs over to his bike and as the deep rumble of the engine fills the air, Rodriguez punches the code into the lock and slides the gate open. We move out, one by one, and when it’s my turn, I slip behind Fuzz and Piper’s Bronco as Travis sighs from the passenger seat. I glance over at him.

“What?”

Peeking over at me, he takes a sip of his whiskey before turning away from me and shaking his head. “You’re amazing, you know?”

“No, I didn’t know,” I answer, fighting back a smile as I eye the bottle in his hand. He’s really fucking going for broke tonight and my gaze flicks back up to his face, trying to understand the emotion that flickers through his eyes.

“You’re fire, baby… like, for real.”

I arch a brow. “Thank you… I think.”

“This isn’t coming out right,” he growls, scrubbing his hand down his face and I glance out of my window to hide my smile. Fuck. I want to be mad at him for getting drunk when shit was seriously going to hell but he’s just so damn cute right now that I can’t. Turning back to him, I flash a pointed look at the whiskey bottle.

“Maybe we should just have this conversation when you’re sober.”

“No,” he growls. “I’m just trying to say that… there is all of this shit around me… like a fucking hurricane of bad shit but then there’s you and with you… it’s all calm and I can breathe. I think… I… fuck, I don’t know…”

My mind races, replaying everything he just said to me again and again as I try to sort it all out into something intelligible and figure out what he’s really trying to say but I don’t want to read into anything. Not when I have too much on the line. The Impala slips out onto the street and the screaming of the protestors floods the cab as my heart climbs into my throat. Just before we turn, I glance over and meet Warren’s eyes as he stands on the edge of the crowd, watching us leave. The stupid white mask is completely covering his face, like always, but I swear he’s smiling at me and it chills me to the bone as my heart thunders in my chest.

“Rowan, I need to tell you something…”

I peek over at Travis again. “Okay.”

“He’s been calling me… calling me and torturing me. He said I couldn’t tell anyone but it’s killing me and I don’t want to die… but I can’t lose you either. Oh, fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he whispers, an ache in his voice so potent that tears sting my eyes as I glance between his tortured face and the road. Groaning, he scrubs his hand down his face and shakes his head, clearly wrestling with what he just said. It breaks my fucking heart.

“What do you mean you don’t want to lose me, Travis?”

He rolls his head to the side and meets my eyes. “He’s going to kill us all… he told me and he’s going to take you from me. He said you caught his eye… but I won’t let him have you because you’re mine, right? You said you were mine last night.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, nodding as my heart hammers in my chest and I grip the wheel tighter as my hands shake. “I’m yours, Travis.”

Just when I think I’ve reached the bottom of the “what the fuck” barrel when it comes to Warren, I manage to find a new low and I can’t help but worry how much more we could all lose before this is over. But then, there is another part that wonders if there is no end to this. Maybe this hell is just our lives now and there is no escape.