Fear clawed at her throat, cold and merciless.Havoc’s name echoed in her mind, sharp and aching.Who was this man and who sent him?She didn’t know anything, only that she was being taken.
****
Havoc had the bikestripped down to its bones, hands blackened with grease, mind anything but on the machine in front of him.
The Harley sat steady on its stand.He adjusted the carburetor with practiced precision, the rhythm of the work grounding him.Wrench, tighten, check and repeat.Normally, this was where his head went quiet, where the road lived even when he wasn’t on it.
Not today.Today, every thought circled back to Ivy.
He’d made up his mind sometime around dawn, when the sky was still bruised purple and sleep had refused to come back.He was going to apologize.Really apologize, not the half-assed gruff version he’d perfected over the years.He’d pushed her away because he was scared, because letting her in felt like tempting fate, and that wasn’t fair to her.
He practiced the words in his head like a man rehearsing a confession.
I was wrong.I shouldn’t have pulled away.You didn’t deserve that.
None of it sounded good enough.
The night before, he’d ridden out past the edge of town, and parked beside a headstone he knew too well.Libby’s name was carved there, neat and final, the dates beneath it a cruel joke.He’d stood there longer than he meant to, helmet tucked under his arm, staring down at the ground like it might open up and answer him.
“I didn’t mean to,” he’d muttered into the dark.“I didn’t mean to forget you.”
The wind had whispered through the trees, and for a moment, irrational and raw, he’d sworn he felt her disappointment.Not anger.Worse.That quiet, knowing look she used to give him when he was being an idiot.
He’d left with his chest tight and his resolve set.Havoc was done hiding.
He tightened the last bolt and wiped his hands on a rag, already picturing Ivy’s face when he told her.He didn’t expect forgiveness, not right away, but he had to try.He owed her honesty at the very least.
Footsteps broke into the garage, hurried and uneven.Havoc frowned, glancing up.Roach stumbled into view, supported by another brother.Blood streaked his temple, dried dark against his skin.One eye was already swelling shut, purple and ugly.His cut was gone.
Havoc’s heart dropped straight into his gut.
“What the fuck happened?”he demanded, already moving toward them.
Roach tried to wave him off, but the motion was sloppy.“I’m fine.”
Bullshit.
Havoc caught him by the arm, steadying him.
“You don’t look fine.Where’s Ivy?”Havoc demanded.
Roach winced at the sharpness in his tone, confusion flickering across his battered face.“She...I was on my way to get her.”
The words hit like a punch.Havoc’s jaw clenched, anger flaring hot and fast, but one look at Roach’s condition checked it.Demanding answers from a brother who looked like he’d been fed through a meat grinder wasn’t the way.
“Inside,” Havoc said, voice controlled with effort.“Easy.”
They got Roach settled on a chair in the clubhouse, another brother already calling for the in-house doc.Havoc crouched in front of him, eyes scanning the damage.Roach had a split lip, bruised ribs and one wrist swelled badly.Someone had thoroughly worked him over.
The doctor arrived quickly, ushering everyone back as he got to work.Havoc paced instead, boots thudding against the floor, every step tightening the coil of dread in his chest.
When Roach was finally patched up enough to talk, Havoc stopped pacing and planted himself in front of him.
“Start from the beginning,” he said.“Slow.”
Roach swallowed, voice rough.“I was heading to Ivy’s place like usual.Took the back road.Didn’t hear him until it was too late,” he mumbled.
“Who?”Havoc pressed.
