“Did think we lost you there for a second, though!” He slammed his open palm against my shoulder, the same one that was crying for mercy after the enthusiastic hand shaking. "Nearly gave my legal team a heart attack." He cocked a thumb back at the lawyer, who stepped forward with practiced smoothness.
"Just a reminder that per section C line 12 of our contract, SkidMarkzzz bears no liability for injuries sustained during performances by DemonX, especially those involving deviations from approved stunt parameters," the lawyer recited, his tone pleasant but firm.
“Deviations,” I nodded slowly, “Sure, let’s call a near fatal crash a deviation.”
The lawyer cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it seems something did not align with the original stunt parameters.”
“Can you prove that?” I quirked an eyebrow, challenging. I had zero intention of suing SkidMarkzzz. We made too much money off them doing shows when we weren’t locked into a big contract. But lawyers got on my fucking nerves.
The man shuffled, looking uneasy. “I’m sure we could?—”
“You couldn’t prove jack shit,” Nitro interrupted. “Just shove your legal jargon up your ass, man. We’ve got no plan to sue.”
The man bristled, but before he could rebut, Sullivan stepped in to defuse. “Harry, don’t rile up our boys.” He clamped one beefy hand around the lawyer’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. Then Sullivan shot us his best showman’s smile. “I know you guys start the big tour soon, but I do hope you’ll carve out some time to make an appearance at a race or two.”
“We might have time,” Fallon responded. “However, Cirque du Sang’s schedule is demanding.”
“Yes, well, I’ll pay double,” Sullivan countered. The lawyer shot him a surprised look.
“Like I said, if we have time.” Fallon’s voice held a note of finality. Still, the profiteering Sullivan pressed his luck.
“Triple, final offer,” he said quickly.
Damn, ticket sales must be shit lately. Crowd was amazing tonight though… which meant DemonX had become Sullivan’s secret weapon.
“We’ll let you know,” I spoke now. “Get me the fuck home, guys.”
“Home or John?” Kane asked. “You’re as beat up as the bike, maybe worse.”
John was our go-to. He was a damn good vet.
“Home,” I reiterated. “John can make a house call.”
Asher pocked his lighter and gathered up our duffel bags; we’d all just change later like Kane. Fallon and Nitro, who’d not left my side, supported me as we left.
Through the aftermath of the crash, I felt hollow. Had the impact shaken the last vestiges of feeling from my already depleted store?
I had nearly died.Again. And I felt nothing.
23
ASHER, NITRO, FALLON, & KANE
{The day of Lucy’s last treatment}
ASHER.
Flames danced within the belly of the rusted barrel, flickering shadows against the walls of the compound as the world around me faded into dark oblivion. The smell of smoke curled into my nostrils, mingling with the pungent scent of oil and burnt rubber.
I’d been burning shit for hours, but I couldn’t shake the image of Xander tumbling through the air—the way he had flown, twisted, falling with zero control. It had left me breathless, not in awe, but in dread. Now there was a gnawing darkness that clawed at the edges of my mind.
We’d all crashed. We’d all courted death. Why was it affecting me so damn bad this time?
I bent closer, entranced by the heat radiating from the flames. The crackle of the fire sounded almost like laughter. It shouldn’t be laughing. Nothing was funny right now. My mindreplayed Xander’s accident for the millionth time. Fuck, he’d come close tonight. We could have lost him.
We were supposed to be invincible; we were DemonX.
What the fuck had gone wrong?
