His body grew heavier against me, his eyelids fluttering, sleep creeping in. I sat there, letting him drift, his breathing slow and even. The weight of him in my arms grounded me in a way nothing else ever could.
I leaned my head back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the world outside. I had no idea what the future would bring, but right now, in this moment, I had everything I needed.
A rough hand patting my shoulder brought me back to the present. Stallion pulled up his chair next to me at the chapel table and leaned forward onto his forearms.
“You okay, Brother?”
“No,” it’s the first time I am admitting it and honestly I feel a bit lighter admitting it to Stallion. “Okay is such a broad description but right now. . . no I’m not okay. I will be though.” He claps me on the shoulder and we just sit there reminiscing about my son for who I now grieve.
Lola
The low hum of the stereo fills the house, the old vinyl spinning beneath the needle, crackling just enough to make it feel alive. I sway to the rhythm, bare feet gliding over the wooden floor as I wipe down the counter. The scent of lemon cleaner mixes with the lingering traces of motor oil Reaper always carries home with him. It’s faint, but it’s there, woven into the fabric of this place—just like he is.
I glance at the clock. He should be home by now. Reaper didn’t tell me exactly how long he’d be, but he did say he wouldn’t be gone too long, and it’s been hours.
The thought makes my stomach twist, but I push it away. Worry never does me any good. Instead, I let the music takeover, turning the volume up just enough to drown out the silence. A slow smile curls at my lips as the beat picks up, something sultry and old-school, the kind of song that begs to be danced to. So I do.
I let my hips sway, let my body move like I have nowhere else to be, nothing else to do. The cloth in my hand finds its way to the table, forgotten as I spin, hair spilling over my shoulders. This is how I keep the nerves at bay—losing myself in motion, in music, in the simple act of making this place feel warm, feel like home.
The sound of two gunshots echoes through the room and I immediately freeze. My mind is telling me to run, to find a place to hide, but my body won't cooperate. The door bursts open, as if someone had kicked it in with all their might. In a matter of seconds, Dylan appears in the doorway. His voice drips with contempt as he sneers at me. "There she is," he says. “ The dumb fucking whore who will screw anyone.”
“Get the fuck out!” I yell, but he just laughs. Does he seriously find this situation amusing? How did I miss this completely unhinged behavior before.
“You think you're the one calling the shots? You're dead wrong.” His right hand comes into view, revealing a gun that I didn't even realize he had until now. “I'm the one in control.”
“What are you hoping to gain from this, Dylan? I have protection from the club and Reaper will be home any minute now.” I lie through my teeth, I honestly have no idea how long Reaper will be at the club.
Once again, he's laughing, but it sounds off. How did I never notice the way his laughter makes my skin crawl? There is no warmth to it; instead, it's cold and cruel. “You obviously aren’t that special, if they had that dumbass prospect guarding you. He’s dead now, didn’t even draw his weapon, dumbass. As for my dad, we will be long gone before he gets here.”
"Gone?" I question.
"Yeah, we're going on a little drive," he says with a sinister smile.
"Why would I go anywhere with you when you're probably just going to kill me?" I scoff in disbelief.
"You have two options," he offers. "You can either come with me, or we can stay here and wait for dear old Dad to arrive. And when he does, I'll put a bullet in his head without hesitation." He nonchalantly throws a pair of handcuffs onto the floor in front of me. "So, what's it going to be?"
Dammit! I can’t let him kill Reaper because of me. I just need to stay alive long enough for Reaper to find me and I know he will stop at nothing to find me. Going with him is the best chance I have to stay alive long enough. Picking up the handcuffs I lock my hands in front of me. Dylan crosses the room grabbing me by my hair and shoves the gun into my back forcing me toward the door. Once we get close to his car he releases my hair but keeps the barrel pressed to my back. I hear a beep as if he pressed a button on the key fob and his trunk pops open.
I can't believe this. Is he really going to put me in the trunk? He's shoving the gun harder into my back. "Get in!" he demands. "Either you get in or I'll put you in there." Following his orders is my best chance at surviving, but my feet won't budge. Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots through my head and then everything goes dark.
***
Reaper
The sound of Stallion's phone ringing interrupts our conversation. He answers it brusquely, "What?!" My best friend's expression turns pale as he looks at me and then back to the call. "Hold on." Stallion presses the speaker button and says, "Okay Ray, can you repeat what you just said?"
“Dylan was just here. He showed up and shot me. He went into the cabin and just a few minutes later he was dragging Lola out at gunpoint.” Ray’s voice is strained, and his breathing sounds labored as if it's being forced from his chest.
“How bad are you injured?” I ask.
“I don’t think it’s that bad. I took one to my side and one to the thigh.”
“How long ago did they leave?”
“Less than 5 minutes.”
I look at Stallion and he nods. “Everyone get ready to head out. I’ll call soon with the location. Find Keyes and have him meet me at my house.” I shout and head out the door.