Every head snapped up.
My daddy stood there, breath ragged, eyes wild in a way I hadn’t seen since I was a kid. His gaze tore through the room, panic sharp and real.
“Where’s Briar?” he demanded. “She ain’t home. Ain’t answerin’ her phone. Last we heard, she and Lark were headin’ here.”
My stomach dropped. “Why was she with Lark?” I asked.
“Because you dumbass,” Daddy snapped, jabbing a finger at me. “Lark’s been at the house since you two blew up. We figured you’d come lookin’ for her to get her side.”
The air left my lungs.
Lark hadn’t been with Zach.
She’d been right under my fuckin’ nose.
“She was here earlier,” Gatsby said. “Looking for Chain. I didn’t see Lark, but she might’ve been outside.”
My mind snapped back to where I’d been. The woods. Sugar. Every piece slid into place all at once, ugly and undeniable.
They hadn’t talked to me because I’d given them a reason not to.
“There’s more,” Ash said sharply. “The man feeding info from inside this clubhouse is your prospect. Jacob.”
The room went dead silent.
Devil swore low. “You sure?”
“Confirmed,” Ash said. “No question.”
“Spinner,” Devil barked. “You and Bolt. Bring Jacob in. He’s working at The Pit.”
One of our own.
A rat.
I looked between them, dread hittin’ full force. “You don’t think—”I was already movin’. “—they’ve got Briar and Lark.”
Devil was shouting orders, but Daddy and I were already out the door.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
I HEARD THEmen talking about taking me to some isolated bunker.
That alone told me everything I needed to know.
If this was really about “bringing me home,” about “saving my soul” or whatever pretty lie they liked to paint over their violence, they would’ve marched me right through that front door like a ceremony. A spectacle. A lesson. They would’ve wanted me to see the walls and feel the trap closing.
Behind the house, tucked where the road couldn’t see, sat a dark SUV with tinted windows and mud caked up the sides. Thekind of vehicle that didn’t look out of place in the woods because it was made for disappearing into them.
A hand clamped my arm. Another shoved hard between my shoulder blades. I stumbled, caught myself, and lifted my chin anyway. Fear was an easy thing to smell. They lived off it. If I gave them that, even for a second, they’d treat it like permission.
The back door yanked open, and I was thrown inside.
The interior was hot and stale, the air thick with old leather, sweat, and something sour underneath. Not rot. Not smoke. Something like… desperation that had soaked into the seams and never left. The floor mats were gritty, like this thing had hauled more than one secret through the woods.
Hands grabbed my wrists and wrenched them behind me before I could even shift my weight. I twisted, tried to get leverage, tried to get an elbow up, but the angle was wrong and the space was too tight.
A zip tie cinched down.
