Chapter Six
THE ROAD HAD turned to dirt about ten minutes ago, and the farther we drove the more the trees seemed to close in around us, tall pines crowding the narrow path until the last traces of Charleston had disappeared behind us.
I kept watching the thin ribbon of dust trailing behind Ruby’s car in the side mirror, wishing, not for the first time since we left, that I had refused to get in.
But refusing Ruby had never really been an option.
She drove with both hands on the wheel, her shoulders tight, eyes fixed ahead with that stubborn focus she always had whenever Drago was involved, and the look alone was enough to make the knot in my stomach pull tighter.
I’d seen it before, that same rigid determination whenever she convinced herself something had to be done, and once she got there nothing, not logic, not pleading, not family, seemed capable of changing her mind.
Still, I had to try.
“Ruby,” I said quietly, twisting my fingers together in my lap as the tires crunched over loose gravel. “We don’t have to do this.”
She didn’t even glance my way. “Yes,” she said simply. “We do.”
The firmness in her voice made something sink in my chest.
“Please,” I tried again, forcing myself to keep my voice calm even though the woods around us were already starting to feel too dark, too empty. “We can turn around. He doesn’t even have to know we came.”
Ruby let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I already told him we were coming.”
My pulse skipped. “Then tell him we changed our mind.”
She shook her head slightly, eyes still locked on the road ahead. “No way. It’s my night off and I want to see him. Being with him…” She hesitated for a second, as if searching for the words. “I can’t explain the feeling I get.”
The road curved deeper into the trees, the branches overhead knitting together so tightly the fading daylight struggled to break through.
“You talk about him like he’s some kind of god,” I said softly.
Ruby’s mouth tightened. “He’s not a god.”
“No,” I said quietly. “He’s dangerous.”
That finally earned me a glance. Her eyes flicked toward me, irritation flashing across her face. “You’ve never even met him.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “He sent one of his goons to my shop and threatened to burn the place down, Ruby. He basically told me he’d kill me if I didn’t cooperate.
” My voice dropped as I looked back out the windshield at the narrowing road ahead.
“And how many times have you shown up at my house with a busted lip or a black eye? I think that counts as knowing him.”
The words settled between us like something heavy.
Ruby’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “He’s just intense,” she muttered. “He’s under a lot of pressure.”
I shook my head slowly. “No,” I said. “He’s abusive. And clearly unstable.”
I could still see those nights too clearly.
Ruby sitting at my kitchen table with an ice pack pressed to her mouth, mascara smeared beneath her eyes while the coffee between us went cold, trying to explain something she didn’t seem to understand herself.
He was drunk, she’d said, like that explained it, like it softened anything, like it meant he hadn’t meant it at all—but eventually, after another drink and a stretch of silence that dragged too long to ignore, the truth had slipped out anyway, quiet and ugly.
He got angry because I’m not her.
I swallowed now, staring out at the darkening road as the words settled back into place, heavier the second time around.
“You told me why he hit you,” I said quietly, and when Ruby didn’t answer, didn’t even shift, I kept going, because stopping felt worse.
“You said he kept looking at you like he was trying to see someone else’s face, like you weren’t enough on your own. ”
Her jaw tightened, just enough to confirm it.
“You said he kept saying her name,” I added, softer now, like lowering my voice might make it easier to hear.
The silence inside the car thickened, pressing in from all sides, until I finally said it.
“Zeynep.”
The name landed between us like something fragile and breakable, something that shouldn’t have been touched at all, and Ruby’s expression hardened instantly. “I hate that name.”
“You never even knew her.”
“I don’t have to,” she snapped, the words sharp enough to cut. “She’s dead and he still loves her.”
And there it was—jealousy, raw and bitter, sitting just under the surface where it had probably been all along, impossible to ignore once it finally had a voice.
My chest tightened. “He doesn’t love you,” I said gently.
Ruby shot me a glare. “You don’t know that.”
“Ruby… he locked a woman in a room,” I said, my voice low now, because saying it out loud still made the whole thing sound unbelievable. “A woman he claimed to love, and he ordered his own men to burn the entire clubhouse to the ground with her inside if he didn’t come back.”
“That’s not what happened,” she muttered.
“It is,” I said quietly. “And you know it.”
The car rolled deeper into the woods, the road narrowing even more as the trees leaned in overhead.
“He loved her,” Ruby said after a moment.
I turned to look at her. “That’s what you call love?”
Her mouth tightened, and for a second she said nothing at all.
“He hit you because you aren’t her.”
The words came out softer than I meant them to, but they still landed hard enough that the only sound in the car for several seconds was the low hum of the engine and gravel snapping beneath the tires.
Finally she spoke again. “He’s said he’s going to make me his ol’ lady one day.”
I stared at her. “And you think that means he loves you?”
She didn’t answer.
The road narrowed even further as we drove deeper into the trees, and the uneasy certainty began settling into my stomach that wherever we were going had been chosen very carefully to stay hidden.
“Ruby,” I said again, my voice shaking slightly now. “Please… don’t make me do this.”
Her eyes flicked toward me briefly. “You don’t have a choice.”
My throat tightened. “No kidding,” I whispered.
“Just chill out,” she said. “Everything will be fine.”
“How can you let him do this to me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper now. “Everything I’ve built… he said he’d destroy it.”
Ruby didn’t respond.
“And he said he’d hurt me if I didn’t cooperate.” I looked down at my hands. “We’re family,” I said quietly. “Sisters.”
Her expression softened for just a moment, but it didn’t change the direction of the car. “You promised you’d get close to Gatsby. I promise nothing will happen to you or the shop.”
Even thinking his name twisted something painfully inside my chest.
“He trusts you now,” Ruby continued. “Which means you’re exactly where Drago needs you. Just do it, and break up with him when it’s over.”
I closed my eyes for a second. “Ruby… please.” My voice cracked. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
Her eyes hardened again. “Just do it and don’t argue. Drago doesn’t have patience for people who don’t listen.”
The car slowed slightly as the trees began to thin ahead.
I lifted my head.
Through the branches I could just make out the faint outline of buildings hidden deeper in the woods.
My stomach dropped. “Is this it?” I whispered.
Ruby nodded once. “Yes.”
I stared ahead at the dark compound waiting beyond the trees, a cold certainty settling deep in my chest as the last stretch of road opened before us.
Whatever happened next… there was no turning back now.
***
THE TREES FINALLY thinned enough for the clearing to open ahead of us, and the compound revealed itself piece by piece through the fading light as Ruby drove forward without slowing, the dirt road widening into a rough yard surrounded by low buildings and scattered vehicles.
It wasn’t what I expected. I had imagined something larger, louder—something that matched the violent stories whispered about motorcycle clubs—but the place sitting in the middle of the woods looked almost ordinary at first glance.
Low metal buildings sat across packed dirt, a garage off to one side, and motorcycles parked everywhere in loose clusters like metal animals resting in the evening heat.
What unsettled me wasn’t the buildings.
It was the quiet.
Not peaceful quiet, not the calm stillness of a place where nothing happened, but the kind that felt like it was waiting for something.
Ruby drove straight into the clearing without hesitation, steering the car toward the largest building like this was just a casual stop somewhere on the highway and not the home of a dangerous group of bikers.
Men were scattered around the yard, and I noticed them almost immediately—two leaning against motorcycles near the garage, another sitting sideways on the seat of his bike with one boot planted on the ground, and several more standing near a truck, their attention shifting toward us the moment our car rolled into the clearing.
Their eyes followed the car. Not curious. Measuring.
Ruby parked near the building and shut off the engine, the motor ticking softly as it cooled in the quiet air while the men continued watching us without bothering to hide it.
I turned toward her. “Ruby—”
But she was already opening the door.
Her movements were easy, almost buoyant with excitement, and the uneasy thought that slipped through my mind as I watched her step out of the car made my stomach twist.
What happened to the Ruby I grew up with? These men were killers. And that didn’t seem to bother her at all.
“Come on,” she said.
The calm in her voice only made the tight feeling in my stomach grow worse, but after a brief hesitation I opened my door and stepped out of the car.
The evening air smelled like oil, smoke, and damp earth, the sharp scent of gasoline lingering somewhere nearby, and my flats crunched against the gravel as I shut the door behind me.
That was when I felt it. That heavy awareness that someone was watching me. I looked up.