Fast. Practical. Survival.
She twists her hair into a bun with shaky fingers and pulls on her shoes. No questions. No complaints.
I head to the bike bay and pop the concealed panel. My cut is tucked where I left it, folded tight and waiting. I didn’t wear it last night. Undercover work and club colors don’t mix.
I bring it back in and slide my arms through.
The weight settles on my shoulders like something old and familiar clicking into place.
Ruby’s eyes track the movement.
Her gaze drops to the patch, then lifts to my face.
Something in her expression shifts. Small. Startled. Like she likes what she sees.
Heat hits my gut.
I ignore it.
Ace cracks the door, checks outside, then nods once. “Clear.”
We step into the cold morning, and Ruby moves closer to my side without thinking. Her hand catches my arm like it’s the only solid thing left in the world.
I keep my face blank.
Inside, my blood runs hot.
We head around back to the concealed bay. I roll the bike out smooth and quiet.
Ace’s truck waits in the tree line, matte dark and built for work. The bed’s fitted with a false wall and tie-downs.
Ace drops the ramp. “Get it in.”
I guide the bike up and strap it down fast, hands moving from habit. Ace locks the panel behind it, and from the outside the bed looks empty.
Ruby stands close, eyes scanning the trees like she expects the woods to reach for her.
I put a hand lightly at her back. “In.”
Ace climbs behind the wheel. I get Ruby into the cab, then slide in beside her.
The truck rolls out slow and quiet, tires crunching over gravel. Ace sticks to back roads and avoids the main stretch like he’s allergic to attention.
Ruby stares straight ahead, jaw tight.
“You holding up?” Ace asks.
Ruby lets out a tiny broken laugh. “No.”
Ace nods like that’s the only answer he expected. “Fair.”
Ruby glances at me. “How far?”
“Less than an hour,” I tell her. “We’ll be there before your body finds a new reason to panic.”
Her mouth tightens. “It already has.”
I look at her hands. White knuckles. Trembling fingertips.
