Vengeance #2
She folded her arms over her chest. "You sound like you've done this before."
Too many times, but that wasn’t something that he’d admit to her. "I have."
She studied him in the moonlight. "Who taught you?"
His jaw tightened. "The wrong people." She looked away, and neither of them spoke for several moments.
"Thank you,” she said, looking up at him.
He blinked. "For what?"
"For saving me,” Chloe said.
His chest tightened. "I was just doing what anyone would've done."
"No." She shook her head. "My dads would've—Bowie, Savage, and even the club. But you—” Her voice softened. "You didn't have to."
If only she knew the truth. He needed to save her to make amends for what his family had done to her. "I couldn't let them take you."
"Why not?” she asked. He looked into the dark woods.
All the things that he wanted to tell her were playing through his head.
Because my father already stole your childhood from you.
Because I was there and watched what they did to you.
Because I've hated him every day since. Because I swore if I ever found you, I'd spend the rest of my life making sure nobody ever hurt you again.
Instead, he went with a version of the truth. "Because you're innocent."
She smiled sadly. "I don't feel innocent anymore."
His heart broke a little. "You are."
"You don't know me,” she insisted.
"I know enough,” he breathed.
She laughed quietly. "That's what you keep saying."
He smiled despite himself. "I do, don't I?"
"All the time." Silence settled between them again, and she wandered toward the edge of the trees. "You know,” she said without turning around, "I almost skipped therapy today."
He looked over. "What?"
"My therapist wanted me to go to an appointment with her before my Dad's funeral." She kicked at a pinecone. "I think she wanted to help me so I’d be able to go to his funeral, but I just couldn’t do it."
"I get that,” he said.
"No, you don't,” she insisted.
"I probably do,” he said. He was pretty sure that he should have been in therapy most of his adult life, but living life on the run put a damper on his needs.
She finally looked at him. "Anyway, I went to my appointment, and told her I wasn't afraid anymore."
"Were you lying?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Yeah." Her honesty surprised him. "I'm terrified most of the time."
"You've got every right to be,” he said.
"I keep thinking that if Savage had just gone to the doctor again—” Her voice cracked, and she covered her face. "He'd still be here."
Vengeance walked over but stopped a respectful distance away. "You can't do that to yourself."
"I know,” she whispered. "But I do it anyway."
"He wouldn't want that,” Vengeance insisted.
"You didn't know him,” she reminded.
He smiled faintly. He wanted to tell her that he knew Savage and knew what kind of person he was, but that might give too much of himself away—and he couldn’t let that happen.
He needed to keep his secret until he knew she was safe.
"I knew the kind of man he was,” he whispered, giving her a partial truth.
She wiped at her eyes. "He would've liked you."
The words hit harder than any punch could have, and he looked away. "I doubt that."
She stepped closer. "My dad had a way of seeing the good in people.
" He knew that was the truth. Savage had seen something in a scared teenage boy twenty years ago.
He'd stepped between Vengeance and a group of older Dragons who'd beaten him nearly to death for refusing to participate in one of Dante's trafficking runs.
Savage hadn't asked his name, and he hadn't asked what club he belonged to.
He'd simply saved him, and that one act of kindness had changed everything for him.
"I owe him more than I can ever repay,” he admitted.
She smiled. "That's why you're doing this."
"Yeah,” he said.
She reached into the pocket of her hoodie. "I found this in the saddlebag." His stomach dropped as she held up an old silver Zippo. It was his—the one thing he'd never let anyone touch. Engraved across the front were three words. Never Like Him.
Her brow furrowed. "What does this mean?" He stared at the lighter. Damn it. He'd forgotten it was in his saddlebag.
"It's a reminder,” he said carefully.
"Of what?" she asked.
He swallowed. "That I never want to become my father."
She looked at him for a long moment. "You really hate your father."
More than you'll ever know. "Yeah."
"He hurt you." It wasn't a question.
Vengeance nodded once. "He hurt a lot of people."
She gently handed the lighter back. "I'm sorry." His fingers brushed hers as he took it, and neither of them pulled away immediately. For just a second, neither of them remembered they were running for their lives.
The moment shattered when Vengeance heard it—a faint engine, farther down the logging road. He froze, and Chloe immediately noticed. "What’s wrong?” she asked. He held up one finger when he heard another engine, followed by another. They weren’t motorcycles but SUVs.
His blood ran cold. "They found us."
Her eyes widened. "I thought you said they lost us."
"They should have." He was already pulling his pistol, which meant only one thing.
Someone had told the men tracking them exactly where to look.
There was a leak in Savage Hell, and if the Black Veil Syndicate already knew the route to the West Virginia safe house, then someone inside the Royal Bastards had betrayed Bowie.