Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Demi
The next day, I sat against the wall of the bike shop where I knew he sometimes showed up.
The Sons didn’t have a flashy clubhouse in the city.
They were smart to keep their business spread out through bars, garages, and God knew what else, but the shop was neutral ground.
A place where patched bikers came and went, and where people dropped cash for repairs or just to look tough leaning on their shiny Harleys.
My stomach clenched as I sipped burnt gas station coffee and pretended to scroll on my phone. I wasn’t sure what I expected. Maybe for him to storm out, drag me off the curb, and tell me to stop following him. Maybe to ignore me completely.
Either way, I had to try.
Around noon, the shop’s bay door screeched open. And there he was.
Werewolf.
Leather cut stretched across broad shoulders, and a black T-shirt clinging to him like it was painted on. His hair was damp, like he’d just run a hand through it after a shower. Tattoos curled down his forearms. Black ink stark against sun-kissed skin.
Every inch of him screamed danger.
And every nerve in me screamed Don’t look away.
He spotted me instantly. His eyes narrowed, and I felt the air between us tighten, like a wire pulled too taut.
I stood, tossed the coffee cup into a trash can, and my pulse hammered.
“You again,” he said, voice flat.
“Me again.”
He stalked toward me with his boots heavy on the pavement. “Didn’t I tell you to walk away?”
“Yes,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I felt. “And didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going to?”
Something dark flickered in his eyes. He stopped close enough that I had to tip my head back to see him. Close enough that the heat rolling off him mixed with the smell of leather and motor oil.
“You don’t quit, do you?” he asked.
“Not when it comes to my brother.”
For a second, silence stretched. Then he moved fast. One hand slammed against the wall behind me and pinned me in place. His body loomed over mine, and his shadow swallowed me whole.
My breath caught, but I forced myself not to flinch.
“You think this is a game?” he growled, so close I felt the rumble in his chest vibrate through me. “You keep chasing this, it’ll end with you in a shallow grave. That what you want?”
“No.” My heart pounded so hard I thought it might break my ribs. “What I want is the truth.”
His eyes burned into mine, sharp and cold, but beneath the steel, I thought I saw something else. Something conflicted.
“I don’t owe you shit,” he said finally, but his voice wasn’t as sure as before.
“Then why are you so mad to see me?” I shot back. “Why not just ignore me?”
That landed. His jaw tightened, and for the first time, he didn’t have an answer ready.
The world seemed to narrow until it was just him and me. The thud of my pulse in my ears. The smell of his cologne, which was woodsy and dark, clung to him like smoke. His hand was still on the wall beside me, and his chest brushed mine with every breath.
For one terrifying, intoxicating second, I thought he might kiss me.
Instead, he pushed off the wall and stepped back like I’d burned him.
“Stay the hell out of my way, Demi,” he snapped and turned back toward the shop.
But I’d seen it.
The hesitation.
The flicker of something more than indifference.
He was hiding something. And I was going to dig until I found it.