Frankie watched me closely, the tension between us thick as oil. In this world, you learned quickly who you could trust, and no matter what, you didn’t leave your own hanging.
“I’ve gotta go,” I suddenly said, sliding out of the booth, my mind racing through every possible scenario—none of them ended well. But if family was on the line, hesitation was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
The town of Burns, Wyoming, was scarcely a blip on the map. Barely four hundred people, and in the heart of that small town was the Tumbleweed. A bar and diner that served as the small town’s hub of entertainment. The Tumbleweed was exactly what I expected. A dive bar that looked like it had seen better days a decade ago. The neon sign flickered weakly, advertising cheap beer and bad decisions.
The air outside was thick with stale smoke and desperation as I pulled my bike to a stop beside two lone riders, their faces grim masks in the dim light.
Slowly getting off my bike, I stood and smirked. “Was in the neighborhood and thought you’d like some help.”
Firestride shook my hand, pulling me into a hearty brotherly hug. “Always, brother.”
Looking around the area, I frowned. “Where the fuck is he?”
“Watching,” Firestride simply replied as I turned toward the horizon and flipped the motherfucker the one-finger bird.
Indigo chuckled. “You’re still pissed, I see.”
“Bastard can kiss my ass,” I grunted as another rider rode up and parked his bike. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”I grinned, shaking the hand of Eros. “Finally. The brothers of FIRE together at last.”
Eros grunted but welcomed the brotherly hug from me. “Look, we need to make this fast. King and Zeus are chomping at the bit. They want Banshee back alive.”
“That’s who’s in there?” Indigo asked, looking at the Tumbleweed.
“Yeah, and considering who Banshee is, they aren’t fucking around. Zeus and King are ready to burn this place to the ground to get him back. Nav said we have ten minutes.”
“I just need five,” Firestride said, reaching for his gun.
I stretched my head from left to right and rolled my shoulders, as my hand gripped my machete. Indigo flicked his cigarette and blew out the smoke as Eros stormed toward the entrance.
It was all over before it began. We delivered a brutal, bloody message with cold, hard steel and unforgiving bullets.
“Finish it, Firestride,” Eros shouted. “They’re coming in!”
Without blinking, my brother raised his gun, pointed it at the dead fucker holding his woman, and fired just as the doors to the Tumbleweed kicked open and in walked my father, along with King, Zeus, and several others.
“Jesus fuck! Patch, get the fuck over here,” King shouted as he and Patch rushed over to Banshee, who looked like dogshit, but I didn’t care, because I couldn’t stop looking at the motherfucker who had my face.
Inching my way toward the door, a knot tightened in my gut, a churning mess of righteous anger and something else, something shamefully close to... hope. I refused to say shit to the fucker who abandoned me at birth and left me to rot. We might share blood, but he was no kin of mine. That was the absolute truth, the bedrock of my being.
Yet, as his gaze finally landed on me, a phantom ache throbbed in my chest. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, a flicker of recognition, or maybe just assessment, before he quirked his eyebrow. I knew what he saw. I wasn’t fucking stupid, but the urge to scream, to demand answers I knew I wouldn’t get, was a physical pull, a wave threatening to drown the carefully constructed wall around my heart. He could get fucked, yes, but a sliver of me, a traitorous, weak sliver, wanted him to see the damage.
When he moved to step toward me, a primal instinct screamed to bolt, to flee the suffocating presence. But another part of me, the part that had spent years honing a hard shell, a bitter defiance, rebelled. I had to show him I wasn’t broken, that his absence hadn’t shattered me. So I smirked, a brittle, forced thing, and lightly shook my head, a silent dismissal that felt more like a surrender.
Disappearing out the doors of the Tumbleweed, I fought the urge to look back, to see if he truly cared—a question I desperately wanted answered and simultaneously feared finding out. Heading for my bike, the engine roared to life, a sound of freedom and escape, but beneath the noise, a hollow echo of what might have been, of a connection I’d sworn I didn’t want, gnawed at me. I knew the son of a bitch wouldn’t follow me, and I was right. As I rode away, the side mirror showed only the dust my bike kicked up, a stark, lonely testament to the fact that he had chosen to remain a stranger, and I, in my desperate attempt to prove my strength, had let him.
And that—that was the real abandonment.
Chapter Three
Karlyn
Purgatory, California, ...
“Karlyn,” Daphne said as she stuck her head into my room. “The girls and I are going shopping. Would you like to go with us?”
I blinked, pulling myself from the dark swirl of memories that crippled me into submission as I looked into the sunlit reality of Daphne’s smile. For a moment, the ordinary comfort of her voice felt like a lifeline, anchoring me to a world that wasn’t always heavy with regret. I managed a small smile, grateful for the invitation and for the hope that maybe today, I could just be Karlyn—no secrets, no burdens, just another girl headed out for a normal day in Purgatory.
But I knew that was impossible.
