“I’m here,” I answer immediately.
Not “yeah.”Not “hold on.”Not “we’re fine.”
I’m here.
I catch the way her shoulders ease.Not much but enough to tell me she needed those two words more than anything else.
Lightning splits the sky, lighting up the road in stark white.
We’re not going to the clubhouse.We’re not going to the fallback cabin.We’re going deeper into Kings territory a place only a handful of us know exists.
A place I swore I’d never have to bring her.
She watches me drive, eyes darting between my face and the darkness outside.
“You’re angry,” she whispers.
I exhale once through my nose.“I’m always angry.”
“No,” she says softly.“This is different.”
I don’t answer.
Because she’s right.
This isn’t the slow-simmer fury I live with.This is wildfire rage edged with fear.I almost lost her once.I’m not fucking losing her again.
I keep my eyes on the road.“Tell me if you see anything outside.Movement.Headlights.Shadows that look wrong.”
She nods instantly.“Okay.”
Another strike of lightning crashes overhead, illuminating the trees on both sides of the road and something moves in the glow.
My body locks.
“What was that?”Kelly gasps.
I hit the brakes so hard we both jerk forward, seatbelts snapping tight.The truck fishtails briefly before gripping the pavement again.
“Stay in the truck,” I order, already reaching for my gun.
Her voice trembles.“Riot!”
“Kelly,” I snap, turning to face her, “if something happens out there, I need you low, I need you quiet, and I need you still.You move when I say.Not before.”
Her lower lip trembles.
But she nods.“Okay.”
I step out into the rain.
And the world goes cold.
The storm is deafening a roar of water slamming into gravel, wind ripping through the trees.My boots splash into mud as I circle the truck, gun raised.
Lightning cracks again.
The roadside ditch flashes into view—And a figure bolts into the woods.
