He pulled out a crumpled map, tracing lines with a dirt-stained finger. It was a familiar sight, the frustrated frown mirroring my own when the wilderness refused to yield its secrets easily. But I remembered Jackson’s words: “Intuition, Karlyn. That’s your truest compass. Maps are for those who can’t read the whispers of the earth.” He had always been more attuned to the subtle shifts in the wind, the language of the forest that spoke louder than any ink on paper. The hunter, silhouetted against the moonlit trees, was clearly a creature of maps, reliant on something other than his own senses.
I stayed low, my movements fluid and silent, a ghost in his periphery. He swore again, muttering about the difficulty of tracking in this terrain, a sound that grated on my nerves with its inefficiency. He was close, too close, but his reliance on that map was his undoing, a blind spot I intended to exploit. The lessons hammered into me, the instinct to observe, to adapt, to use the very environment that threatened me, were my only allies. I could feel the forest breathing around me, a living entitywhispering warnings and opportunities, and for the first time since I’d fled, I felt a surge of agency, a dangerous confidence blooming in the heart of my fear.
He shuffled the map, his frustration a palpable thing in the charged stillness. He was heading in the wrong direction, veering away from the very path I’d taken. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched my lips. He might have the map, but I had the woods. And in this ancient, wild cathedral, the earth itself was my guide, and its secrets were already unfolding for me, telling me exactly where he was wrong, and where I needed to go when a hand clamped over my mouth as a dark gravelly voice whispered close to my ear, “Don’t scream. I’m here to help you.”
My eyes flew open. The jarring sensation of rough hands clamped over my mouth stifled the scream that wanted to rip through the serene forest. The man’s hand tightened, damn near cutting off my air when he added, “I’m a friend of Jackson’s. I’m going to remove my hand. You scream, and then we will have a bigger problem, understand?”
I froze, heart pounding as the rough hand pressed tightly against my lips, smothering my panicked gasp. The voice was unfamiliar, but there was an urgency to it—a crackling tension that was not entirely threatening.
My mind raced, weighing the risks: friend or foe?
The stranger’s grip eased slightly, just enough for me to draw a shaky breath, and in that moment, I caught the scent of pine and sweat clinging to him. The hunter was still searching, oblivious to our presence in the thick underbrush, and for an instant, hope flickered beneath the fear.
I nodded ever so slightly, signaling my understanding, desperate to trust but wary of betrayal. The forest seemed to close in tighter, holding its secrets close as the stranger releasedhis hold, whispering again, “Stay low. I’m getting you out of here.”
Chapter Eight
Ravage
“All I’m sayin’ is, you need more time to heal.” Marshall groaned as I sifted through my saddlebag. I didn’t have much, but it was enough. I had stashes and safe houses all over the United States. I just needed to figure out where the hell I was and then I could find my way home from there. “Be reasonable, boy. You ain’t gonna be no good to anyone if you can barely stand.”
“Where the hell is my bike?”
“You laid your bike down on the interstate, or have you already forgotten that you pissed off Black Odessa? Jesus, boy, they put bullets in you not even four days ago. They know who you are. You need to rest.”
“No.” I shook my head as I threw my saddlebag over my shoulder and winced. “I need to get to Karlyn.”
Marshall groaned. “There you go. Thinking with your dick again.”
I ignored his jab, pulling on a worn leather jacket. The pain was a constant companion, a dull throb that flared with every movement, but it was a familiar ache. He was right; I wasn’t at full strength, not by a long shot. But “full strength” was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Karlyn was out there alone, and the thought of her facing whatever dangers lurked in that forest without me was a far greater agony than any bullet wound.
I looked at the old man, my gaze hardening. “The Golden Skulls outed me. Hung me out to dry, Marshall. They put abullseye on my back. Before I killed Yuri, he told me Black Odessa is working with the Death Dogs. And now, Karlyn’s caught in the crossfire because of something I did. I need to get to her and get her to safety before she becomes collateral damage.”
Marshall sighed, running a hand over his grizzled beard. “I know, but you ain’t gonna be no good to her if you’re dead. But I also know you. You ain’t gonna rest until you’re with her. But first, we need to get you a bike. But you better listen to me this time, understand? No recklessness. You take it slow. You need to stay alive, not just for yourself, but for her.” He stood, his joints cracking like dry twigs, a familiar silhouette against the dying embers of the fire. “Now, let’s go find you something that runs.”
As I secured my saddlebag to my new bike, Marshall asked, “Which direction are you heading?”
“West,” I said, cinching the straps tighter.
“Might want to go east,” Marshall offered, throwing his leg over his bike as he looked toward the horizon, saying nothing more.
Looking at the old man, I narrowed my eyes.
“Why the fuck would I go east? The clubhouse is west.”
Marshall shrugged. “No reason. Just seemed like the better option.”
Standing my ground, I growled. “Alright. Out with it. What the fuck don’t I know?”
The old man shrugged again. “I don’t know what you mean. I was just trying to be helpful.”
Groaning, I rubbed my hands down my face. Talking with Marshall was like pulling teeth. The fucker never gave upanything until he was ready, and from the way he was being evasive right now, I knew he wouldn’t tell me shit. “Alright, Marshall.” I sighed. “I’ll bite. Why do I need to head east when my woman is in the west?”
“Thought you said she wasn’t your woman.”
Clenching my fist tight, I growled, “Marshall,” as the old man grinned.
Marshall’s grin widened, the lines of mischief etched deep into his weathered face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the handlebars. “Just saying, sometimes the things we want most aren’t where we expect them to be.” His tone was casual, but his eyes never left mine, searching for something beneath the surface when he revved his engine.
