Suddenly, the line goes dead. My phone nearly cracks in my grip, and for half a second, I can’t move.
I can’t fucking breathe.
The clubhouse walls close in, and all I can see is Queenie’s face. Her smile when I visited yesterday. The way she’d squeezed my hand and told me she was proud of me. The woman who raised me. Who sacrificed everything for me. Who taught me what love actually means.
And she’s in a burning building.
“No!”The word tears out of me, primal and raw, and then I find the strength to move again, stumbling into the hallway, my hands shaking so badly I can barely pull up my contacts. I hit Sin’s number.
It rings once. “Brother?” His voice is alert immediately. Sin doesn’t sleep deeply. Presidents never do.
“Sunset Manor is on f-fire.” My voice cracks. I don’t care. “Queenie’s inside. I need… I need everyone.Now.NOW!”
“All right, wake everyone, we’ll ride with you.”
“I’m not waiting.”
“Nitro—”
I end the call, heading for the clubhouse door, not waiting for my brothers to flank me. Each second Queenie is in that building is a second too long.
I’m out the door and on my bike before I’ve fully registered, grabbing my keys. The engine roars to life, a familiar thunder that usually soothes me, but tonight it’s noise. Background static to the screaming in my head.
Move.
Faster.
FASTER.
The Vegas streets blur past, nothing but streaks of neon and darkness. I don’t see red lights. I don’t see other cars. I don’t see anything but the road ahead and the destination I have to reach. My speedometer climbs, sixty, seventy, eighty through a thirty-five zone. I don’t fucking care. They can arrest me later. They can throw me in jail. None of it matters if Queenie dies because I didn’t act fast enough.
My bike screams around corners, my tires protesting. My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to escape my chest. Every breath tastes like copper and fear.
Please. Please, God, or whoever the fuck is listening. Please let her be okay.
I’m not a praying man. Haven’t been since I was a kid and my parents died despite every desperate prayer I sent up. But I’m praying now, begging and making deals with whatever deity might be listening.
Take me instead. Take anything. Everything. Just let Queenie live.
I hear them before I see them, the scream of other engines behind me. My brothers. They’re trying to catch up, but I’m too far ahead. Too fast. Too desperate.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I ignore it.
Nothing matters except reaching her.
The smell hits me first.
Three blocks…
I can taste the smoke. Acrid and toxic. The kind of smell that coats your lungs and doesn’t let go. My stomach lurches, but I swallow it down.
No time for that.
No time for anything but moving forward.
Two blocks…
The sky ahead glows orange, an unnatural dawn against the pre-morning darkness.
