My mother frowned, but my father didn’t even blink. He steepled his fingers and looked at me like he was waiting for me to finish a tantrum.
“I need help,” I said, more quietly. “You have people, contacts. You can get the truth.”
“We already have the truth,” my father said flatly. “Caleb went back to his old ways, just like I warned he would.”
“He didn’t.”
“You think you knew him?” His voice sharpened. “He was a junkie with a patch and a record. He embarrassed this family long before he overdosed in that motel.”
I flinched but stayed rooted. “You think you’re so much better?”
“At least I never pretended to be something I’m not,” he said, leaning forward. “Neither of our children have ever shown an ounce of loyalty. You run off and become some glorified teacher’s assistant. He runs off and plays gangster biker until he gets himself killed.”
“You abandoned him,” I snapped. “He was seventeen when you kicked him out. What did you think would happen?”
He shrugged.
I looked between them, the bile rising in my throat. “I never ask you for anything. Never. But I’m asking now. Please. Help me with this. Just this once.”
For a second, I saw a flicker of something in my mother’s eyes. Not softness, but she’d looked away.
“No,” my father said simply, standing. “There’s nothing to help with. Go home, Lucy. You’re chasing ghosts. Leave the past where it belongs.”
They were already done with me. The door opened behind me, and without a word, I walked out. The guards didn’t even look at me as I passed.
By the time I got to the car, my hands were shaking. Not from sadness but from rage.
They’d made their choice, like they always had.
I sat in the driver’s seat, staring out through the windshield, watching the mansion shrink in the rearview mirror of my mind.
There was only one place left to go now.
The one place I’d been avoiding.
The Dead Knights clubhouse.
I hadn’t set foot near that world in years, but if I wanted answers, real ones, the kind the police wouldn’t give and my parents refused to see, I would have to walk in there and face their President and try not to get myself killed in the process.
I needed a plan.
I started the car to head back to the motel first then through the gates of hell itself.
Chapter 5
Lucy
At the motel, I threw the door open hard enough that the knob dented the wall. The fragrance of old cigarettes and faded carpet cleaner hit me as I entered.
I paced in a tight loop, heart still thudding from the visit with my parents. I wanted to scream. Instead, I threw open my duffel and started pulling out what I’d need.
I changed my clothes to black jeans, heavy boots, and a tank top that fit close. I slipped on the hoodie Caleb had given me before I left, hole at the shoulder and scuffed at the sleeves, and felt the weight of it settle over me like a shield.
Next, the burner phone. I pulled it out and charged it, just in case. Then, I pulled out the small lockbox I kept at the bottom of my bag, behind a layer of books no one would ever open.
Inside was a compact .380 pistol, clean, untraceable, and unused. I wasn’t walking into that bar unarmed. I set it on the bed beside me and stared at it for a moment. It wasn’t the gun that scared me—it was seeinghimagain.
Jay.
