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Kate and Lucy stepped back as Riot caught my face between his hands. His eyes moved frantically over me. “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fuckin’ fine.” His hands moved to my shoulders, my ribs, my arms, checking for injuries like he didn’t trust anything he could see.

“Did you hit your head?”

“A little.”

“Did you black out?”

“No.”

“Can you breathe properly?”

“Yes.”

He lifted my hand and saw the blood across my palm and his jaw tightened. “What happened?”

“I told you. Somebody followed me.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“From where?”

“After I dropped Kate off.”

His head snapped toward her and Finn.

“You were out?” Something in his tone made the relief inside me twist sharply.

“Yes.”

“At this time of night?”

I stared at him. “What does that matter?”

Riot dragged a hand over his face and looked toward the wrecked car. “You shouldn’t have been out here alone.”

Disbelief pushed through the shock. “What?”

“You should’ve called me.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “You don’t answer your fucking phone half the time. Where exactly were you if they got here first?” I pointed at the others.

“I answered tonight.”

“After somebody tried to run me off the road!”

“You know what’s happening with the club.”

“No, actually, I don’t.” The words came out louder.

Every conversation around us stopped.

Riot stared at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”