Page 30 of King

Kane’s gaze followed her until she disappeared through the door, then shifted to the man who’d made the call. He’d seen this game play out too many times before. This woman was playing a dangerous one, caught up in something with no way out. At least that is what Kane read into it, and he was usually right about this shit. Quietly, Kane rose, tossing a few bills onto the table before slipping out the side exit.

Hearing a car door slam, Kane turned the corner, keeping to the shadows. His sharp gaze landed on the dark-haired woman sitting in the driver’s seat of her car. Her face was illuminated faintly by the glow of the streetlights, and he could see her clearly, even from a distance. She leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closed for a long, quiet moment before she opened them again. Kane frowned as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

He didn’t like it. She looked strong, like someone who wouldn’t break easily, yet here she was, clearly shaken. Whatever she was caught up in, it was weighing on her more than she let on.

The hum of her engine pulled him from his thoughts as the car came to life, headlights cut through the dim parking lot. Instinctively, Kane stepped deeper into the shadows, watching as she pulled out. His eyes flicked to the license plate, memorizing it in an instant. Pulling out his phone, he quickly texted Jinx the plate number:“Run this. I need everything.”

As he tucked his phone away, movement caught his eye. A second car rolled slowly around the side of the building. The driver’s face was unmistakable; the same man had made the call in the pub earlier. Kane’s jaw tightened as he watched the car creep through the lot before turning onto the road, heading in the opposite direction of the woman. He also memorized that license plate number and sent it to Jinx.

Kane’s frown deepened. If this guy wasn’t tailing her, then what was his game? Filing the detail away, he moved quickly to his motorcycle, the tension in his chest morphing into a familiar, sharp-edged focus.

Sliding onto the bike, Kane revved the engine, the low growl vibrating through the night. He thrived on this part, picking apart the pieces and following the threads until they revealed the truth. With the woman’s tears and the man’s movements both fresh in his mind, Kane knew one thing for sure...things were about to get very interesting, and he’d be ready for whatever came next.

CHAPTER 15

King stood in Joey’s kitchen, leaning against the counter while Amara took a quick shower and changed. The place was eerily quiet, save for the occasional sound of water running upstairs. Charger had called not long ago, letting him know that Kane had some new information. He and the others were on their way, bringing food from Sid. Earlier, King had spoken to Slade, who assured him that Joey’s condition remained stable.

“Damn, this place looks like a war zone.” Steve’s voice broke the silence as he stepped over shards of broken glass, holding a small stack of photographs in his hand.

“Wonder what they were looking for.” Adam sat at the kitchen table, his gaze sweeping over the destruction.

“I don’t think they were looking for anything.” Steve flipped through the photos before handing them over to King. “This feels personal.”

King frowned as he took the stack, his eyes narrowing as he sifted through the images. Each photo was of Joey at school, atthe dance studio, with his friends, in the car, and one of him with Lee walking out of this house. Every single one had a red X slashed across Joey’s face.

“Where’d you find these?” King’s voice was low, tinged with menace as he stared at the photos.

“In a yellow envelope on that small table in the hallway.” Steve pointed behind him. “Looks like that’s where they keep the mail.”

The sound of motorcycles approaching rumbled through the air.

“I’ll let them in.” Adam pushed back his chair and headed toward the front of the house.

Now sitting in Adam’s spot, Steve leaned back with his arms crossed. “You can learn a lot about someone through their mail,” he said idly, his gaze flicking to the photos.

“It’s also a felony,” King muttered, his tone dark as his thumb brushed over one of the red X’s.

“Wait. What’s that on the back of that one?” Steve leaned over, pointing at the photo King was holding.

King flipped it over, and his eyes went black as rage surged through him. Scrawled in bold, jagged handwriting were four chilling words:Turn her over, or else.

His grip tightened on the photo, the edges bending under the pressure. Steve caught the shift in King’s expression and straightened in his chair.

“Looks like someone’s sending a message.” Steve’s voice dropped, serious now.

King’s jaw clenched, his knuckles white against the photo. “Yeah, they want Amara.” His voice was quiet, but the fury simmering beneath the surface was unmistakable.

The sound of boots echoed in the hallway as Adam returned with Charger and Kane in tow. Kane stepped into the kitchen, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto King.

“What’s going on?” Kane asked, his tone clipped.

Wordlessly, King handed the photo to Kane, who flipped it over. His expression darkened as he read the scrawled message on the back. “Shit,” Kane muttered, passing the photo to Charger.

“We need to lock this down now,” Charger’s voice was sharp. “They’re not playing around.”

King nodded, his voice steady but ice-cold. “Neither are we. No one will touch her.”

Steve sat at the table, frowning deeply. “This doesn’t add up,” he said, breaking the tense silence. “Joey’s on that RH-null list, right? The same list Amara’s on because of their blood type?”

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