Cap Guy tried to crawl away, but Axel stomped on his ankle, pinning him to the ground. Then he leaned in, real close, and whispered something I couldn’t hear.
Blondie was out cold, face mashed against the footrail, drooling onto the linoleum.
Pink Face was sobbing, his arm bent at a new angle, eyes wild with pain.
Axel stood up, dusted off his jacket, and looked at me.
“You okay?” he asked.
It wasn’t the words that got me—it was the way he said it. Like he actually wanted to know.
My hand shook as I tried to brush the hair from my eyes. “I’m fine,” I said, but I sounded as battered as the assholes on the floor.
Axel nodded, then looked at Heather. “You got a mop?”
She nodded, already moving. The bouncer started to push through the crowd, saw Axel’s cut, and stopped. He made a show of checking the IDs of the three guys on the floor, then turned to Heather.
“Club takes care of its own,” she said, voice calm as a lake.
The bouncer raised his hands, stepped back.
Axel turned to me. “You want a ride?”
I hesitated. I wanted to say no, to make a show of being tough, but all I could think about was the cold outside, the way my knees felt hollow, and the sound of Blondie’s windpipe folding in half.
I nodded.
He motioned for the exit, and we left, the silence in the bar following us out into the parking lot.
The air was sharp, biting through my shirt, and I wished I’d brought a jacket. Axel saw me shiver and stripped off his own, draping it over my shoulders before I could protest.
“Where to?” he asked, voice softer now.
I almost said “home,” but that wasn’t a place I wanted to go. Not yet.
“Anywhere,” I said. “Just not here.”
He nodded, and for the first time, I noticed the blood on his knuckles. It dripped onto the snow, bright and perfect.
He followed my gaze, then smiled, the same cold smile he’d given Cap Guy.
“Gonna be a cold ride. You ready?” he asked.
“No.”
He handed me a helmet. I put it on, climbed behind him, and wrapped my arms tight around his waist.
As we roared out of the lot, I looked back at the Pink Beaver, at the three broken boys, and the crowd pretending not to watch. I felt alive, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to die.
The wind whipped my hair, the world blurred, and I held on like the whole city was chasing us.
***
I expected him to take me somewhere illegal, or at least somewhere you had to sign a waiver to enter. Instead, Axel pulled the Harley into the parking lot of the Waffle King, killed the engine, and sat there for a second like he was debating whether to go in or just set fire to the place. The sign buzzed with half-dead letters, and the only other vehicle was a beat-up Crown Vic with a flat tire and a cross decal bleeding off the bumper.
He didn’t say anything, just handed me back his jacket and motioned to the door. I followed, arms still shaking a little from the cold or maybe the adrenaline.
The inside was even emptier than I remembered. Two waitresses, both working the counter, one old enough to have served my grandmother. The younger one was texting under the register, bored out of her skull.
