“You always have options,” I said.“Right now, they’re just all bad ones.I’m offering the least bad one I can.”
She glanced toward the sound of the approaching engine, then back to me.Weighing unknown dangers against the devil she knew.
“Okay,” she whispered.
The engine sound grew louder.
“We need to move.Now.I’ve got a bike.”I nodded toward my Harley.The offer hung between us, simple words carrying complicated meaning.Her eyes darted between me, the motorcycle, and the darkness of the road where engine sounds grew louder.Fear of the known versus fear of the unknown -- I recognized the calculation in her gaze.I’d seen it countless times in people forced to make impossible choices.
“What if they see us leaving?”Callie whispered, her voice barely audible over the approaching engine.
“They won’t.Different road than they’re on.”I kept my voice confident despite the uncertainty.The engine sound came from the south -- opposite direction from the compound.“But we need to move now.”
She nodded, steeling herself.I guided her toward the Harley, my arm still supporting most of her weight.Each step seemed to drain what little energy she had left.Her breath came in short, painful gasps.
“Ever been on a motorcycle before?”I asked, stopping beside the bike.
“No.”
“It’s simple.Sit behind me.Arms around my waist.Lean when I lean.”I steadied the bike.“Ready?”
She tried to lift her leg over the seat but faltered, muscles giving out.I caught her before she collapsed, feeling her flinch at the contact.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be.”I repositioned to help her.“May I?”
At her nod, I lifted her carefully onto the seat, mindful of her injuries.She bit back a whimper as she settled, hands immediately clutching my leather cut for support.She seemed weak enough I wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold on, but then she gripped me tighter.I felt the desperation, her sheer willpower.
“Hold tight,” I instructed, mounting in front of her.“We’ll take it steady.”
The engine sounds grew louder, maybe half a mile away now.Callie’s breathing quickened behind me, panic rising.Her fingers dug deeper into the leather of my cut.
I reached for the key but paused, scanning the tree line one last time.Nothing moved in the darkness, but the feeling persisted -- we were being watched.
A twig snapped in the woods to our left.
Callie jerked at the sound.“Please,” she whispered, leaning forward against my back.“Please go.”
The Harley roared to life, the familiar rumble cutting through the night.Callie’s arms wrapped around my waist, her grip surprisingly strong given her condition.I felt her whole body trembling against me -- from fear, cold, exhaustion, or all three.
We pulled away from the shoulder, tires crunching on gravel before finding asphalt.I kept the speed moderate at first, conscious of my passenger’s precarious state.The headlight carved our path through the darkness, trees blurring past as we accelerated.
In the side mirror, I caught a flash of movement at the edge of the road where we’d been -- a shadow detaching from the tree line.Then we rounded a curve, and whatever -- whoever -- it was disappeared from view.
Callie pressed her face between my shoulder blades, holding on as if the motorcycle was the last solid thing in a crumbling world.For her, maybe it was.
The Kings’ compound lay just ahead, around two more bends.The club had enemies, rivals who’d use any weakness against us.Which was why we had certain rules in place.But right now, I didn’t give a fuck.
I took the next curve faster, leaning into it, feeling Callie mirror my movement instinctively.The wind cut through my jacket, but the night seemed impossibly warm where her body pressed against mine.She was burning up -- fever from infection, most likely.Another reason hospital would’ve been the right call, if hospitals were an option.
We passed the weathered oak that marked the unofficial boundary of Kings territory.No signs, nothing obvious to outsiders, but every member knew the markers.From here, we’d hit the first security checkpoint in two minutes -- Prospects who patrolled the perimeter, keeping watch for threats.
I’d need to explain bringing Callie.The club would want answers I didn’t have yet.But that was a problem for later.Right now, getting her to safety came first.The rest would sort itself.
The road narrowed as we approached the final stretch before the checkpoint.Trees pressed closer, branches forming a canopy overhead that blocked out moonlight.In the darkness, I sensed rather than saw the motorcycle pull onto the road behind us -- headlight off, engine barely audible beneath my Harley’s rumble.Following, not pursuing.Yet.
Callie must have sensed it too.Her grip tightened, fingers digging into my ribs.I accelerated, the bike responding instantly, eating up asphalt as we raced toward the checkpoint.
