Dylan stepped in. “We’ll move slow. Keep her supported. Nate will ride flank. Regan stays with her until we clear the lower wash, then we adjust if needed.”
Edge looked at him.
A long look.
“I don’t like it,” he said.
Dylan shrugged. “You don’t have to.”
Wrong answer.
Maybe right answer.
Edge’s eyes narrowed.
Dylan added, “You just have to let the thing that works work.”
The room held still.
Then JD, blessed man with no survival instinct around my father, said, “He’s right.”
Edge turned his glare on him instead.
Good.
Spread the danger around.
River stood near the doorway, head bowed, both hands braced on the back of his neck like the weight of Santa Fe had dropped between his shoulders. Tank was beside him, quieter than usual, which meant even he understood this was bad.
Tarak moved to River and placed one hand on his shoulder.
“This is why I backed you as prez,” Tarak said.
River looked up.
Tarak’s face was haunted, but his voice was steady. “This might be the biggest test you ever face keeping our club alive in our hometown.”
Nobody said Mandy.
Nobody said curse.
Nobody said my name like it was a prophecy.
But they all thought it.
I felt it move around the room, old and ugly.
Mandy’s blood.
Mandy’s fire.
Mandy’s wreck.
Destiny’s disaster.
I closed my eyes before I could see anyone’s face and know for sure.
The next stretch blurred into movement.
