Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Clove
Lying still had become a skill.
Not sleeping, just being still. Breathing shallow. Letting my body melt into the mattress so completely that I could almost pretend I wasn’t there. Pretend I was just another piece of junk in this camper, forgotten and unimportant.
My head still hurt.
I forced myself to blink slowly, counting each one to make sure the room stayed where it was supposed to be. It wobbled a little, then steadied.
Okay.
I stayed still and listened.
At first, there was nothing but the birds again.
They were relentless—chirping and fluttering, reminding me that the world was continuing on without me. I could almost picture them hopping around outside the camper, heads tilting as they searched for crumbs or bugs, completely unaware that someone was trapped just feet away.
Then, voices.
Not right outside the door. Farther off. Muffled by distance and trees and whatever else was between us. But close enough that I could make out words if I focused.
I held my breath.
“…told you not to answer.”
That voice was familiar. One of the two who’d come in before. The shorter one, I thought. The one with the sharper tone.
Another voice replied, lower. Tense. “I didn’t answer. I let it go to voicemail.”
My heart started to pound.
A third voice cut in. I hadn’t heard this one before. Rougher. Older. More annoyed than angry. “What the hell are you two talking about?”
There was a pause. Long enough that I strained to hear more.
“Yogi just called.”
Yogi. Like the bear always looking for his picnic basket? Road names were always a trip.
“What did you do?” the third voice snapped.
“What the fuck do you think I did?” the first voice shot back. “I didn’t answer.”
“Good,” the third said. “What did he say?”
Another pause.
“He’s pissed,” the second voice admitted. “Real pissed. Wants to know what the hell we’re doing.”
My throat went dry.
“Said he got an interesting call,” the second continued. “From the President of the Fallen Lords MC.”
My heart slammed so hard it made my head throb.
They knew.
They were looking for me. I never doubted it, but damn did it feel good to hear it.
“Son of a bitch,” the first voice muttered.
“And?” the third pressed.
“And there’s a fucking ‘and,’” the second voice said reluctantly.
“Of course there is,” the first snapped. “Spit it out.”
“And,” the second said, slower now, like he didn’t want to say the words out loud, “we took the wrong chick.”
The air left my lungs. I stared at the ceiling, my vision blurring at the edges.
“She’s the bitch from the bar,” the first voice said dismissively.
“No,” the third voice snapped. “She’s fucking not.”
Silence stretched tight.
“She’s a daughter of one of them,” the third continued. “A member.”
My stomach dropped.
“Son of a bitch,” the first voice breathed.
“Who the fuck cares?” the second voice burst out. “The Fallen Lords took out Timmy. They’re going to pay for it.”
Timmy.
I filed the name away immediately.
“Once Yogi finds out about Timmy,” the second went on, “he’s going to be on our side.”
“Yeah,” the third voice said, not convinced. “But I don’t know how he’s going to feel about us not going to him before grabbing that chick.”
The word chick made my skin crawl.
There was a rustling sound. Footsteps. Someone pacing. “What the hell are we going to do about her?” the first voice asked.
My breath caught.
The pause this time was longer.
“He said give him a day,” the second voice finally said. “Let’s talk to Yogi and see what he has to say.”
“And if he says dump her?” the first pressed.
No one answered right away.
Then, quietly, the third voice said, “Then we’ll deal with it.”
Footsteps moved away.
Voices faded, swallowed by distance and the chirping birds.
I lay there, frozen, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it might break something inside my chest.
I’d been right. They wanted Star but had taken me by mistake.
The realization settled over me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a shaky breath.
How?
How did you mistake me for Star?
We didn’t look anything alike. Star was taller, louder, more fearless. She carried herself like she dared the world to try something. I’d always been quieter. Smaller. More careful.
Idiots.
Dangerous idiots, but idiots all the same.
I opened my eyes again and stared at the ceiling, my thoughts racing now.
They hadn’t meant to take me. That meant I wasn’t part of the original plan.
Which meant I was expendable.
My chest tightened painfully.
Before, I’d been leverage. A hostage. Something they could use or trade or hold onto.
Now?
Now I was a complication. Something their president might decide wasn’t worth the trouble.
The birds chirped again, bright and cheerful, and I nearly laughed at the sound of it. The contrast was almost obscene.
If Yogi decided to play by club rules, maybe I lived. Maybe I got handed back as an apology or a peace offering.
But if Yogi decided these idiots were liabilities…
If he decided they’d fucked up too badly to protect…
Then I didn’t make it out of this camper.
Not alive.