There’s no cut or leather associated with it—it’s just a vehicle that he’s always wanted. And I want him to have it.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been on the back of a bike but sliding on behind him feels…right. I wrap one arm around his middle and turn my face up to the sky.
There’s one thing my father is right about—there’s a feeling of freedom on a motorcycle that you don’t feel anywhere else.And with Landon, that feeling is tenfold because I know he’ll support me no matter what I decide.
Today, and every day going forward.
Landon
I’ve read about dungeons and safe rooms and other places where bikers get their enemies to talk. But I’ve never been in one. I’ve been in similar set-ups all around the world, and the one Daniil’s family keeps in the dungeon of the palace is pretty fucking intimidating. But this? This is next-level because it’s basic.
Drywall covered walls like a basement that someone never took the time to finish. Cement floors. Very little lighting. Large pieces of plastic hanging from the ceiling. Like they’re just waiting to wrap dead bodies.
This is everything Allora has wanted to avoid in her life and I glance down at her worriedly. Her pretty face is stoic, no expression whatsoever, and that’s not like her. I know she’s protecting herself and that’s why I think this is a bad idea. But none of us have been able to talk her out of it so here we are.
I know we’re close when I get wind of the stench.
Stale urine and other bodily functions that reek.
Allora wrinkles her nose but doesn’t say anything.
No one does.
It feels like there are a lot of us here today, but it’s only the important people. Me, Allora and Rage. Her father with his officers—Metal, Nitro, and Bones, his new treasurer. That’s it. Seven people about to be judge, jury, and executioners.
When I catch my first glimpse of Tex it’s…jarring. Even for me.
He’s lost weight and filthy, covered in dirt, blood, and stains I don’t want to think about. His hair is greasy and matted andthere are deep, red gouges in his skin where he once had the club’s logo tattooed on his chest. Apparently, they cut it off of him.
He’s shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and he looks pathetic.
When he sees us he sits up on the dirty mattress he’s been lying on.
Then he sees Allora and a smile cracks his bloody face. “This make you happy, sweetheart? Seeing me like this?”
“Actually, it doesn’t,” she replies in a steadier voice than I would have imagined.
“Come to gloat then?”
“I came to ask why,” she replies, walking a little closer but not close enough for him to reach her since his ankle is chained to a metal hook on the floor.
“You know why. You’re mine. I took your cherry and everything else. All mine. I was simply taking back what you thought you could share with other men.”
“Did you think I would love you for having me kidnapped, raped, and beaten?” she asks, a tiny hint of confusion in her voice.
“You weren’t supposed to know. I was going to save you and you were going to be grateful.” He almost smiles again. “I had a plan. Just like in high school.”
I feel Silver’s sharp intake of breath and note the way Allora stiffens.
“You planned that?” she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief and…sadness.
“You didn’t get hurt—I told them not to actually do anything, just to scare you so I could be your hero. And I was. We were together after that.”
“Oh my God.” She turns to look at her father, and his expression is murderous. I know it’s taking a lot of self-control for him not to shoot Tex here and now.
“So, you planned the same thing? But this time you let them rape me.”
“That’s what they wanted in exchange for doing it and keeping quiet. One night with you. I made them swear they’d use condoms so you wouldn’t get sick or pregnant. It was just sex, Allora. You’ve had sex with a million guys since me.”
