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TATUM

Ihave to get the fuck out of here. Now.

He’ll kill me if he finds out I helped, but I’m dead anyways if I stay and keep pretending with him.

Carefully slipping out from under Nicholas’s arm, I ease myself out of bed, making sure I don’t wake him up. If he does, this whole plan is going to hell. My bare feet hit the cold floor, and I pause for a moment, listening. Nicholas lets out a soft snore and shifts slightly, but he doesn't wake. Relief washes over me.

I grab my phone from the nightstand and unplug it, the charger slipping free with a faint click. The bright screen illuminates the darkness around me as I glance at the time: 3:17 a.m.

Fuck, I’m running late…

Bending down, I pull on a pair of jeans that were crumpled on the floor, awkwardly balancing on one foot, and then the other, as I force my legs through them. Firing off a text, I make sure my notifications are silenced before shoving the phone into my pocket.

Me:

Heading out now, all will be down in 10.

Tiptoeing into the closet, I crouch down and reach behind a pile of dirty clothes. My fingers find the worn book bag I'd hidden weeks ago, buried far enough back that Nicholas would never find it. Inside are the essentials—my important documents, cash, and a few outfits. Just enough to get by, but not enough for him to notice anything was missing.

Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I grab my bike keys off the dresser and shoes from the floor. My heart pounds against my ribs as I crack open the bedroom door, wincing at every creak. After one final glance back at the sleeping figure in the bed, I slip into the hallway and quietly pull the door shut behind me.

Holding my breath, I race down the stairs to the main floor of the clubhouse, pocketing my keys to make sure they don’t give me away. Keeping my head on a swivel, I scan the main room. While it’s silent, I make sure everyone is either passed out or in bed.

Slipping into the garage and out of the side door, the humid night air hits my skin. Goosebumps pebble along my arms as I stop just long enough to slip my shoes on. Pulling out my phone, I quickly disable the security measures tied to the perimeter fence. A few taps later, I cut the surveillance feed, erasing the last ten minutes of footage and blocking whatever comes next from being recorded. If anyone checks the cameras later, they'll find nothing but a gap in the timeline.

My feet keep moving. The minutes tick by as I try to get as far away as I can before it all goes down. My phone vibrates in my pocket as the side exit gate comes into view. The sound feels deafening in the silence of the night, but I don't dare stop to check it. Not yet. Reaching the gate, I unlatch it and slip through. I leave it hanging open behind me. In a few minutes, it won't matter whether it's open or closed, anyway.

Once I’ve made it several feet down the sidewalk, I pull my phone out, glancing at the screen.

Two missed calls from an unknown number.

Motherfucker…

Breaking into a jog, I keep the phone clenched in my hand as I head toward the spot where I hid my bike nearly a mile away. My pulse hammers against my ribs, matching the rhythm of my footsteps.

Then the screen lights up again, causing it to vibrate in my hand.

I answer on the second ring, uncertainty creeping into my voice. “Hello?”

“Are you out, Tatum? Our teams are in position and waiting for the green light.”

"I'm out," I say, glancing over my shoulder even though I know no one is there. "I'm almost to my ride. It's hidden down the road, then I'm heading to a family place. They’re expecting me. All the security systems are disabled. The cameras are down. They won't see a thing."

The words tumble out faster than I intend, breaking through my false bravado. "C-can you promise me something?" I ask. "Promise you'll keep your word? Keep me out of this?"

A brief silence follows.

As if he senses the risk I possess, he tries to calm me, keeping his voice warm and steady. “You may have helped us connect the dots, but the warrant and evidence we have won’t come back to you. We shouldn’t need you to testify. If we do, you will be called back like we talked about, and we can offer you protection.”

Shouldn’t…It's not a guarantee, but it’s the best they can offer me. The word twists my stomach into knots.

My bike comes into view beneath a cluster of trees, exactly where I'd left it. My shoulders sag in relief. “Yeah, I know,” I murmur, “but I’d prefer to not be involved at all.”

“I know.” His voice softens. “Good luck out there, Tatum. You’ve saved so many people.”

The line goes dead, and I tuck my phone back into my pocket and pull out my keys. Behind me, somewhere in the distance, an entire life is about to come crashing down.

About fucking time.