“Get in,” one of them said, jerking his chin toward a box truck parked in the alley.
“Uh, I don’t even know you,” I tried.
But the vibe was all likeit doesn’t matter if Rooster says you ride, you ride.
Not exactly the kind of invitation you can politely decline.
So, yeah, I climbed in.Because Kristie’s ex had that tone—the kind that makes you move first and ask questions later.
Now I’m sitting in the back of a rumbling truck on the freaking highway, clutching my hands together and trying to figure out what the actual hell just happened to my life.
It smells like oil, leather, and danger in here.
The guys—big, tattooed, quiet—don’t say much.One’s got an aura like a scar that makes it impossible not to see it.Another’s big as a house and humming something that sounds like country music meets Metallica.
The whole vibe screams illegal but organized, and honestly?
I’m too freaked and too sober by now to argue.
They said they knew Rooster.
That they were taking us somewhere safe.
Which is comforting?Kinda?Maybe?
Or maybe this is how every true-crime podcast starts.
Kristie’s riding with Rooster, but I can’t make out her profile despite the glow of passing headlights.
I figure she’s scared or pissed off, though she’s probably trying not to show it.
I love my cousin to pieces.
She’s tough as nails and twice as stubborn, but I also know she’s been through hell lately.
And if Rooster’s involved, that means trouble.
But yeah.I went with these guys because they were better than the alternative.
And also because family’s family.
No matter what my mother says.
And if I’ve learned anything over thirty messy, chaotic years—it’s that sometimes, survival looks a lot like trust.
The truck hits a pothole, jerking hard, and I bang my elbow on the metal wall.
“Ow!Dammit.”
The guy across from me grins, flashing a set of straight, white teeth.
“Hang on.Won’t be long now.”
I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be reassuring or terrifying.
Either way, I’ve got a bad feeling that tonight’s just the beginning of something I’m really not ready for.
“Ow.Awesome.Addbruisesto the list,” I mutter, rubbing it.
