Chapter 1
Naomi
Squinting in the dying light, I work quickly, shaking the spray can and adding the last few violent strokes of purple to the mural I’ve been working on. I step back to admire my work, a night sky of swirling constellations that emerge from a faceless woman’s head, her hair holding the secrets of the universe. Maybe one day I’ll add this to my skin. There’s still a tattoo-free space on my thigh.
I found this abandoned mill a few months ago, and it’s become my favorite place to ride out to on my old, reliable motorcycle—the one bike of my dad’s that my brother Eli didn’t claim. I’ve been coming here on my days off to practice my graffiti art, and so far, I’ve never seen a single soul out here. The mill has been lost to time, lying hidden as if it had been waiting for me to bring new life to its blank canvas.
The empty spray cans rattle as I stuff them into my backpack. I might technically be committing a crime by creating art here, but I’m not about to leave trash. My hand grazes against my phone, and I pull it out. I had it on silent and I immediately notice there are three missed calls from my brother. Raising my eyebrow, I wonder what sort of trouble he’s gotten himself into now.
Eli’s twenty-seven, six years older than me. He became my guardian after our parents died when I was fifteen. Eighteen months ago, he got into a nasty bike crash and became addicted to the pain meds he was prescribed. These days, I hardlyrecognize my genius big brother as the person who protected me and made me smile when my world had come to an end.
If money was tight before his accident, now we’re buried in debt thanks to his medical bills and addiction. We’ve both been treading water and doing whatever it takes to keep us afloat—which means me working as a barista at a corporate, soul-sucking minimum wage chain, and him getting involved with the notoriously shady biker gang, the Rusted Scythes. He got in because our dad was a member, and he’s been using his impressive computer skills to launder money for them. Something that was meant to be temporary, to earn just enough money for us to start over again in the city, but has lasted over six months now.
Our rent is due today, and if Eli’s spent all of his money on drugs or gambling again, I don’t know what I’ll do. I haven’t gotten enough stashed away in my emergency fund to bail us out again.
Reluctantly, I call him back, my boots echoing in the cavernous room as I pace, waiting for him to pick up. Just as I’m about to hang up, I hear his voice.
“Naomi, I need your help.” He sounds pained, his voice strained as if each syllable is causing him pain.
Worry flares within me. “What’s happened? Where are you?” I ask, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and rushing down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and heading out of the building, slipping through the gap in the chained door that I came in through.
“The barn behind the Rusted Scythes’ clubhouse,” he says, his voice a strained wheeze.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?” I tell him, throwing myself into the saddle and pulling on my helmet. He says something that I don’t quite catch, but the fear in his voice makes my stomach drop. “Say that again, Eli?” I ask frantically, but the call is disconnected.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself as I turn the key in the ignition. After a couple of tries, my bike rumbles to life, and I tear away as fast as I dare.
If Eli’s managed to piss off Freetown’s most dangerous motorcycle gang, we’ll never be able to leave. I’ve heard of how people who get involved with them are indebted for life. If my brother has been stupid enough to accept a loan from them, we’ll never be able to pay it back—not even if I work myself to the bone trying. He’s tied the knot and put the noose around his own neck.
When I pull up, two guys stand outside the door of the barn, guarding the entrance. They look over at me with mild curiosity as I park and remove my helmet. I’m small, and my arms barely reach the handles of such a large bike, so I’m used to people staring when I ride it.
“Big bike for such a small girl,” one of the men remarks, his eyes roaming over my body appraisingly. “Want me to teach you how to ride it nice and hard?” he leers, the insinuation clear that it’s not the bike he’d like me to ride.
“Big promises for someone with such a small cock,” I bite back.
The other man leans his head back, barking out a laugh. My gaze moves to him. He’s a large man with a gray beard and long straggly hair worn in a ponytail with a bandana tied around his forehead. He’s wearing a Rusted Scythes vest, and a faded t-shirt which is a size too small, stretching over an impressive beer belly. “You must be Eli’s baby sister. He said you were feisty. I’m Chopper, the Prez of the Rusted Scythes.”
If he was expecting me to be impressed by his title, he’s going to be disappointed. All I care about is finding Eli. I don’t offer my name. He probably already knows it, and if he doesn’t, I don’t want him to.
“Where is he?” I demand, tilting my chin up to meet the man’s eye. Like facing off with a grizzly, I know that one sign of weakness or fear would instantly render me as prey.
“This way,” he says, turning and walking around the back of the barn, not checking to see if I’m following. We reach a side entrance that reveals a set of steep stairs leading up to the hayloft. He gestures for me to go ahead of him. I can’t see what’s waiting for me at the top. It could be a trap. But I have no choice, and Chopper isn’t budging. I eye him warily before I turn my back on him and ascend the creaking stairs.
A strangled cry escapes my throat, and I stumble up the last two steps when I see him. Eli lies slumped over in a chair, his face a swollen, mangled mess of bruises.
“Eli!”
I rush to his side, crouching down and surveying how badly they’ve beaten him, for it’s clear that someone has beaten him half to death.
Eli opens his one good eye to look at me; the other is swollen shut. “Naomi. I told you not to come,” he says defeatedly.
“What the hell did you do to him?” I snarl, my head snapping around to look at Chopper, eyes ablaze with fury. “Why isn’t he in a hospital?”
Chopper is unconcerned by my rage. He casually picks at his nails. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse. Your brother thought he could steal from me and get away with it. I’ll admit, he covered his tracks well and got away with it for longer than I would have expected. He racked up quite the debt to me in the process.”
My heart sinks as my fears are confirmed. “How much?”
Chopper chuckles, the sound low and menacing. “You think you can pay off this debt, little girl?”
