Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Where does it lead to?” Frost asks, I roll my eyes, pulling the hutch further.
“Usually no place good.” Beast grabs at my shoulder. “This one seems legit.”
I straighten up, but something hits me. The smell. Not as disturbing as I would have thought, but something, hidden beneath perfume and clutter. He's right. Let this hellhole burn with its secrets.
I turn toward Hellraiser.
But then I hear it. A whimper.
Thirty
Melissa
Ishift on the stool, my fingertips tapping against the bar's worn surface. I’ve felt off since this morning. Hella was a little too chipper, and my instincts were a little too loud.
Yana won't stop moving—five steps this way, pivot, five steps back—while Phoebe's pixelated face beams up from the phone balanced against an empty Steinlager.
“Only twenty-one days left! Yana, we need to finalize those flower arrangements. What about wildflowers? They'd perfectly complement that whole rustic theme you and Beast are going for.”
Yana halts mid-stride, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as her fingers knot together. Bet she’s wishing she’d pretended she had no cell service now. “Wildflowers. Right. It's just that... with Beast, I'm not...” She trails off, shoulders tensing.
My throat constricts as I try to swallow. Every minute without Hella stretches longer than the last.
My lips twist. I’ve always been shit at hiding my expressions. “Beast loves you, Yana. Meanwhile, Hella's just... elsewhere. Mentally checked out.”
Jada's pen stops scratching against her napkin. Those green eyes flick up. “Caught that, did you? Man barely acknowledged you before gunning that bike out of here. Strange behavior, considering...” She lets the implication hang, each word a needle under my skin.
Considering he fucks you senseless.
I release a breath. “Whatever. He does what he wants, I’m not going to try to change that.” Lies. Lies. Lies.
Something isn't right.
Before anyone can press me further, bikes snarl through the walls.
My pulse kicks hard. Fuck. Hope and dread slam together in my gut, neither winning.
I slip off the stool. My boots hit the floor with a thud. The room goes dead quiet behind me. Each step feels wrong, too heavy, like my body knows what's coming and wants no part of it.
The curtain bunches in my fist. “Guess we're about to find out.” I press my face to the glass, letting the cold bite into my cheek. Through the settling dust, shapes materialize—slow, unreal.
Come on. Show me. Show me who made it back.
My lungs burn from holding my breath. I want the truth. I'm terrified of it. Both feelings claw at each other as I shove through the clubhouse doors.
Grit and sun hit me at once. I throw up a hand, squinting as dust drifts around the now-silent bikes.
My gaze locks on a small person clinging to Hella, tiny hands on his cut. The child's sobs carve through the still air, a sharp, desperate sound that twists something deep in my chest.
“Don't leave me!” she wails, muffled against his thigh.
I'm frozen in place.
My brain short-circuits.
My fingers dig into my crossed arms, nails biting into flesh as I watch him crouch down, murmuring something too low for me to hear. What the fuck is happening here?
Hella reaches up with a steady hand, peeling the helmet off the child's head. Long blonde hair tumbles free, catching the harsh light, and my lungs forget how to work. Those eyes—wide, piercing green—lock onto mine.
I know those eyes.
No. No fucking way.
My knees threaten to give out, but I force them to hold. Get your shit together.
Who is this kid?
I stare at the tiny stranger while my pulse hammers against my ribs. Those eyes. Jesus Christ, those eyes.
My feet move without permission, carrying me forward until I stop, too close now to pretend I'm not affected.
Hella's spine snaps straight, the muscles in his jaw working as his fingers curl into the child's shoulder. His eyes stay fixed on her, denying me even a glance, but his presence presses against my skin.
Quiet hiccups sound out as she squeezes into his jeans.
“Hey.” Hella stops me from moving any further when the girl ducks behind his thick thigh. “She's a bit scared, babe. Give her some space.”
“Oh,” I whisper, swallowing past the lump in my throat. My hand flies up, massaging gently. “Who—where?”
He shakes his head. “We'll talk soon, when I know you ain't gonna start swearing in front of her.”
She doesn't speak. Doesn't talk. Gripping onto Hella's bloody jeans, unfazed.
Hella turns to face the child, a softness flashing over his features I've never seen before. Only with Garret, maybe even softer than that.
“Hey, Rugrat. I've gotta make a call, but I'm going to—”
The girl's lip quivers, tears pooling in her eyes.
“Ah, shit.” Hella stands at his full height, holding her hand with his.
“Bring her. It's fine. Melissa?” Beast nudges his head to the side, and I follow him, hesitantly moving near the line of bikes. As soon as we're a distance away, Beast clears his throat.