Chapter Thirty-Four
KENNY PALOMO
Patched Hound
Icouldn’t look away from Drew.
He hadn’t moved in so long.
Why wasn’t he fucking moving, man?
The ATF were shouting out orders left, right, and center, their men and women armed and moving through us like we were all strapped up and set to detonate. They were taking no sides. Every living creature inside this warehouse was guilty in their eyes. The way their bodies were crouched as they moved through us, smooth but cautious, ready to fire at any moment… it said it all.
I should have been scared.
A life behind bars was calling. Ishould have been scared.
But the only fear I felt was for our president—the one who hadn’t moved or even flinched since an army of people came charging in to handcuff us all.
“Why the hell isn’t he moving, Slater?” I whispered, my mouth slack before I managed to swallow the ball of fear residing in my throat. “He isn’t getting up. Drew always gets up.”
