I feel a presence on the concrete behind me.
I turn, expecting Rhett. "That was fast?—"
But it's not Rhett.
Two more men emerge from the shadows near the dumpsters. Hard faces. Unfamiliar patches. Different colors.
Wrong. Everything is wrong.
Before I can scream, hands grab me. Big hands. Something covers my mouth—a cloth that smells chemical-sweet, choking.
I fight. Drive my elbow back, connect with something solid. Someone grunts. Good. I hope it fucking hurts.
But he’s too strong. Darkness creeps into the edges of my vision.
The last thing I see is the warm lights of the clubhouse, my new family celebrating inside while I'm dragged backward into the night.
Chapter 10
Wrath
I scan the crowd for the third time when the first thread of unease pulls tight in my gut.
I cut Steel off mid-sentence and push through the crowd toward the bar. Trix is mixing drinks, laughing with Diesel over the music.
"Where's Cami?"
Trix's smile drops at my tone. "Outside, I think. Lizzie said she looked overwhelmed and went out to the side patio for some fresh air. But that was maybe fifteen minutes ago.”
Fifteen minutes. Too long. Way too fucking long.
I'm moving before Trix finishes speaking, shoving through the crowd with enough force to knock people aside. Someone's drink hits the floor. I don't stop. The music's too loud, everyone's too drunk, too distracted. I let my guard down.
The side door is open an inch. Not unusual—members come and go all night during parties. But every instinct I've honed over two decades in this life screams that something's wrong.
I step onto the patio. Empty.
Her scent lingers, as familiar as my own, but she's not here. I scan the small space, the chairs, the railing. Nothing out of place except?—
My heart stops.
I'm across the patio in two strides, dropping to my knees to study the scuff marks at the edge of the concrete. Drag marks? Could be.
Something glints in the dirt near the fence. I cross the space and crouch down. Her phone—her fucking phone. The screen is cracked like someone stepped on it.
The world narrows to a pinpoint. All I hear is the roaring of blood in my ears. Hours ago I gave my patch to my woman in front of the whole club, vowing protection, now she's fucking gone.
"STEEL!" The roar tears from my chest. "GET OUT HERE NOW!"
The clubhouse erupts behind me. Brothers pour through the door, hands already reaching for weapons at the tone in my voice. They've heard me angry before. They've seen me violent. But this? This is different.
Steel appears with Diesel and Tank flanking him. His eyes land on the cracked phone in my hand, and his face hardens into pure granite.
"She's gone." My voice sounds hollow. Dead. "Someone fucking took her."
"Lock the place down,” Steel barks. "Nobody leaves."
"VP!" The shout comes from the direction of the gate. Young prospect called Tiny comes running, blood streaming from a gash on his temple. He's stumbling, one hand pressed to his head, the other clutching his ribs.
