Page 134 of Kings Fear No One
“One that’s identical to Ghost’s. Look at the story the local news has put up. They’ve got pictures.”
Mason makes it to Ozzie first, snatching his phone away for a look. “Shit. Shit!”
I’m frozen in place, ice-cold horror raining down on me. I can barely form a thought let alone speak, except to sputter out his name. “Logan?!”
“But here’s the thing,” Ozzie continues, “no body’s been found. Apparently the bike was run off the road.”
“The Saints,” Mason grits out.
“Time to roll,” Silver calls. “No time to waste. We’ve got to track them down before they disappear again.”
The saloon descends into frenzied chaos. Everywhere around me, Steel Kings grab their gear and rush out to their bikes. Those staying behind start securing the club as if expecting an attack at any moment. Sydney and Mick begin doing what they can—cleaning up the half-drunk bottles of beer and pushing the tables and chairs out of the way.
And then there’s me. Still frozen in place. Still trapped in a paralyzing iceberg of shock and horror.
No… not Logan… not again…
But it’s a given this is what the war between him and Abraham would lead to. Abraham warned him the night the Steel Kings raided their compound and freed captives like me that he would make Logan regret what he’d done.
Abraham is power hungry. He’s unafraid to harm anyone he must in order to stay on top. He wasn’t going to go quietly.
The Chosen Saints were an entity bigger than any of us realized. He truly sees himself as God in the flesh. In his eyes, there’s no escaping his wrath.
Logan made a mockery of him and everything he stands for when he shattered the illusion. Now Abraham’s out to recreate his vision. He’s out for blood.
There’s only one thing that could stop him….
It’s only as Mason and Silver stride past me on their way out that I snap out of my trance. Scrambling in their wake, I call both of their names.
“I need to come with you!”
“Teysha, get back inside the saloon,” Mason barks.
“I know him better than any of you!”
“I said get back inside!”
“No! You need me to come with you!” I shout louder than him. I’m panting, trying to keep up with their lengthy strides. My body’s achy and my stomach still hasn’t settled, but I press on. “I’m the only one who understands how to get him to give Logan back!”
Silver abruptly stops, almost causing me to run right into him. He attempts a different approach than Mason. Rather than outright refusal and throaty growls, he grips me by the shoulders and puts on a sympathetic frown. We might as well be a father lecturing his daughter.
“I understand this is difficult for you,” he says. “But you have to go back inside. You have to let us handle it.”
Around us, Steel Kings mount their bikes and rev their engines. The scene feels eerily violent even before the first drop of blood has splattered. Precursors to violence that unfold before my watery eyes. I shake my head and shrug off Silver’s touch.
“I can talk some sense into him,” I say, my tone breathless and desperate. “I can get him to stop all of this. He’ll listen to me. I was his favorite.”
“Go back inside.”
It’s their parting words as they carry on. I’m left behind as they swing their legs over the sides of their bikes and ride off in a long line of exhaust smoke and blinding chrome.
My breathing’s spiraled into choppy, panicked air that gusts out of me. The moment feels surreal and nightmarish. Everything’s beyond my control.
But what else is new? When have I ever been in the driver’s seat? When have I ever had enough agency to decide what happens around me?
The sense of helplessness becomes so suffocating, I choke out a cry and dig fingers into my hair. My vision pans to the remnants the Steel Kings left behind. The empty lot still vibrates from the sheer magnitude of their thunderous bikes. Aftershocks of a man-made earthquake.
…except for the last King that remains behind.
