Right. Focus.
I shove my feet into my shoes. Follow him back into the living room. He's moved to the window, staying back from the glass, watching the street below. I can see them now. Three SUVs parked at angles that block the street. Men in tactical gear moving with purpose toward the building.
Toward us.
"They know which apartment is mine," I whisper. "They'll start there."
"Yeah." Marcus is still typing on his phone. "Gives us maybe five minutes before they realize you're not there and start looking harder."
"We need to run. We need to—"
"We're not running." He hits send on whatever message he's typing. Looks at me. "We're getting help."
"Help from who? Marcus, you can't—"
His phone rings. He answers immediately.
"Rampage." His voice is military-crisp. Professional. "I need the Savage Riders."
The Savage Riders?
"Who are—" I start.
Marcus holds up one hand. Listening.
"Yeah, it's serious. Woman being hunted by a man named Castellano. His men just showed up with three cars and at least twelve bodies." Pause. "No, I'm not joking."
I grab his arm. "Marcus, who are the Savage Riders?"
He covers the phone. Looks at me. "Motorcycle club. They own Blackwater Falls. Protect the Iron Pit and everyone connected to it."
A motorcycle club.
He called a motorcycle club.
"You can't, that's not—"
But he's already back on the phone.
"My building. Third floor. They're coming in now." Marcus watches the window. "How fast can you get here?"
More silence.
"Good. I'll hold until then." He hangs up.
I stare at him. "You just called a motorcycle club to fight off Castellano's men."
"The Savage Riders run this town. They protect their territory." He meets my eyes. "I fight in their Pit. That makes me theirs. You're under my protection. That makes you theirs too."
"This is insane. You can't just—"
"Too late." He moves away from the window. "They'll be here in ten minutes. We just need to stay out of sight until then."
"A motorcycle club," I repeat, because apparently my brain has broken. "What the hell did I get into?"
"Nothing you can't get out of." His voice is steady. Certain. "But right now, they're the only thing standing between you and those men."
A door slams somewhere below us. Voices echoing on the stairwell.
