SPARROW
The grocery store is supposed to be safe.
That's what Jade says when she offers to take me shopping. I've been at the clubhouse for three weeks, and my wardrobe is still the same four outfits I stuffed in my duffel bag when I ran. Jett's been making noise about Tessa taking me to the mall, but Jade volunteers first, and I'm grateful. She's quieter than Tessa. Easier to be around when my nerves are already frayed.
We take her truck, a massive black thing that makes me feel invisible in the best way. She's armed, she tells me casually, like it's the most normal thing in the world. Just in case. The Iron Saints don't take chances.
The store is small, a local chain that's nearly empty at two in the afternoon. We wander the aisles, and for a few minutes, I almost feel normal. Jade tells me about her own escape, years ago, before Preacher found her. Different circumstances, same story. A man who thought he owned her. A life that felt like a cage.
"It gets better," she says, squeezing my hand. "I promise. One day you'll wake up and realize you haven't thought about him in a week. Then a month. Then you'll barely remember his face."
I want to believe her. I'm trying to believe her.
We're in the cereal aisle, debating the merits of sugary versus healthy, when I feel it. That prickle on the back of my neck. The weight of eyes that shouldn't be there.
I turn.
And there he is.
Garrett Ashworth, standing at the end of the aisle, watching me with those blue eyes that used to make me feel chosen and now make me feel hunted. He looks exactly the same. Handsome. Polished. The kind of man who smiles at charity events and whispers threats in the dark.
My blood turns to ice, freezing in my veins until I can barely breathe.
"Sparrow." Jade's voice is low, urgent, already shifting into protective mode. "Go to the truck. Now. I'll handle?—"
But Garrett is already walking toward us, closing the distance with measured steps. His stride is confident, unhurried, completely at ease. Why would he rush? He's always known he would catch me eventually. That I would never truly escape him.
"There you are." His voice is warm, friendly, concerned—the voice he uses in public, the one that charmed my parents and fooled our neighbors. The voice that made everyone believe him when he said I was troubled. Unstable. "I've been so worried about you, sweetheart."
Jade steps in front of me immediately, her body blocking his path, creating a barrier between us. "Back up."
"I'm just here to talk to my fiancée." He gestures at me like this is all perfectly reasonable, his expression patient and understanding.
"She's not your anything anymore." Jade's hand moves deliberately to her hip, and I realize with a shock that she's resting it on the gun hidden under her jacket. "And you're going to turn around and walk away. Right now."
Garrett's smile doesn't waver, but something cold and dangerous flickers in his eyes. He looks past Jade like she doesn't exist, like she's merely an inconvenient obstacle, focusing entirely on me.
"Sparrow. Don't you think this has gone on long enough? Come home. Your parents are worried sick about you."
"You lied to them." My voice comes out shaking, thin and reedy, but I force the words past the terror clogging my throat, past the fear that wants to silence me. "You told them I was on drugs. That I needed help."
"I told them you were confused." His tone is patient, condescending, the voice he used when he was explaining why I'd made him hit me. "And you are. Look at you, hiding out with criminals, wearing that ridiculous jacket like you belong to them."
"They're not?—"
He moves fast. Faster than I expect, faster than someone his size should be able to move. His hand closes around my upper arm before Jade can react, fingers digging into the soft fleshhard enough that I know there will be purple-black fingerprints blooming there by tonight, hard enough to make me gasp.
"You're mine," he hisses, all pretense of civility stripped away in an instant. "You've always been mine, and you always will be. And if you think some biker trash can protect you from me—if you think hiding behind these criminals will keep you safe?—"
The sharp, metallic click of a gun being cocked stops him mid-sentence, freezing him in place.
Jade has her weapon pressed firmly against his ribs, right where his heart beats beneath the expensive fabric of his shirt. Her face is perfectly calm, eerily serene, and somehow that makes her look even more deadly. "Let. Go."
He lets go immediately, his fingers releasing my arm like I've burned him. Steps back slowly, carefully, but his eyes never leave mine, boring into me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
"This isn't over," he says quietly, each word deliberate and measured. The words are a promise and a threat and a death sentence all wrapped up in that same charming smile that used to make my heart flutter. "I'll see you soon, Sparrow. Very soon."
He walks out of the diner like nothing happened, like he didn't just assault me in a public place in broad daylight, like he owns the world and everyone in it and nothing can touch him.
