Page 21 of The Biker's Captive
All my life, I watched my mother pack up and leave as soon as the going got tough. One failed relationship after another.
Her words ring in my ears.
“It’s always better to be the one that leaves than the one that gets left behind.”
I was sure there was a connection with Pans, but what do I know about men?
I try the front door, and it’s unlocked.
As soon as I open it, the cool breeze hits me. Insects call in the trees and I close my eyes, loving the feel of the breeze on my face after having been locked away.
I felt a connection with Pans, but is it worth sticking around for?
My heart beats heavy as I head to the basement. Grabbing the bag that Gina left, I stuff it with my few belongings and the last can of soda.
I whisper a goodbye to the cage and drag my bag up upstairs.
10
PANS
The lines of the road blur underneath my bike as I speed up the highway. I can't get away from the clubhouse fast enough. My need to get back to Willow is so strong I ride like a man possessed.
We questioned the men from The Reapers. There was a price to pay for bringing drugs into our territory, and they paid it in blood.
Before Willow I probably wouldn’t have let them live, but she sees something better in me. She makes me want to be better.
So I left them bloody but alive, and with an understanding that there's no going after the witness. That she's under our club’s protection permanently.
She will be once I give her my cut. Then everyone will know Willow is my property. You mess with her, you mess with me, and the whole club will fight in her corner.
Fear grips me as I wind down the road to the cottage. I left the cage unlocked, but now I wonder if that was the right thing to do. What if she’s gone?
I bring the bike to a screeching stop, kicking up gravel as I cut the engine.
“Willow!” I call as I fling open the front door.
I take the stairs to the basement two at a time, gripping my stomach. I need to see her; I need to see her face.
The cage is empty.
My breath catches, and a low groan wells up in my chest and surfaces through my throat.
Of course she’s gone. I left her cage unlocked. I set her free. Why would she stick around for a beast like me?
I was sure we had a connection. But maybe that was just my mind playing tricks. Maybe it was what I wanted to feel.
I go into the cage, tearing it apart as if she might be hidden under the bench. But it’s empty, and her purse is gone.
I head up the stairs calling her name. Frantically racing through the cottage and checking all the rooms.
She's not in the kitchen, she's not in the lounge, and she’s not in the bedrooms. I left the cage open, and the bird has flown.
Throwing open the front door, I cry her name into the trees, an agonized shout that sends a flock of birds cawing into the sky.
But all I hear back is the hum of cicadas.
I slump onto the stoop with my head in my hands.
