Chapter Fourteen
Wolf
A s I walk into the boy’s room, I take a breath to gather my thoughts. The boys are sitting on the floor, building a fortress with their Lego blocks. Already building protective walls. Abel looks up; first, he’s looking me over me like he always does when trying to figure out if something’s wrong. The kid’s too smart for his own good.
“Wolf, what’s going on?” he asks, his voice steady but curious. He’s only twelve, but a seriousness about him reminds me of someone who’s seen too much too soon. It's probably because he has.
Dillon, the younger one, glances between us, his big brown eyes wide and curious. “Yeah, why do you look serious, Wolf? Did someone steal your bike?”
I can’t help but laugh softly at that. “No one’s touching my bike, buddy.” I ruffle Dillon’s hair, trying to keep my tone light. “But we’ve got a little adventure to go on tonight. Gotta pack some stuff and head out for a bit.”
Abel narrows his eyes at me, clearly unconvinced. “Why? Is it because of him again?” His voice is so quiet, but it feels like a cannon firing in the room. Confused, Dillon looks up at his brother, but Abel doesn’t break his gaze from mine. The kid knows. He always knows.
I crouch down to their level, resting my arms on my knees as I try to figure out how to explain this without scaring them more than they need to be. “Look,” I start, keeping my voice steady, “you remember how we talked about staying safe and being smart? Somewhere quiet where you guys can just be kids and not worry about anything.”
Abel crosses his arms over his chest, his jaw tightening. “But we’re not safe here? You said you’d protect us.”
“I am protecting you,” I say firmly, holding his gaze. “This is part of that. This is about keeping you, your brother, and your sister safe while we figure out how to stop him for good. That’s my job.” I pause for a moment, trying to soften my tone. “And I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t important.”
Dillon tugs on my sleeve, his little face scrunched up in confusion. “But you’re staying, right? You’re not leaving us?” His voice wobbles slightly, fear creeping in despite the bravery he tries to muster.
I reach out and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere,” I promise them, my voice steady but gentle. “I’ll be close by. I’m just ensuring you are safe so I can handle this problem without worrying about you. You’ve got my word, okay?”
Abel studies me like he’s trying to decide whether my word is good enough. After what feels like an eternity, he finally nods. “Okay,” he says quietly, though his arms remain crossed. “But you better come back.”
Dillon wraps his small arms around my neck in a hug that almost knocks me off balance. “You have to promise!” he mumbles into my shoulder, his voice muffled but insistent.
I hug him back tightly, ruffling his hair again before pulling away slightly to look him in the eye. “I promise,” I say, sealing it with a pinky swear that makes him smile just a little.
“Now, start packing up your favorite things,” I tell them as I stand up and glance around the room. “Not everything, just what you need and can’t live without for a little while. And don’t forget your toothbrushes. I don’t want any complaints about gross morning breath.”
Dillon scrunches up his nose dramatically, which gets a small laugh out of Abel despite his obvious worry. “Ew, Wolf! You’re the one with gross morning breath!” Dillon teases, sticking out his tongue.
“Hey now,” I shoot back with mock offense. “I’ll have you know my morning breath smells like roses and fresh coffee.”
“Roses that died a long time ago,” Abel mutters under his breath, but a slight grin pulls at the corners of his lips. I take it as a victory.
“All right, comedians,” I say, clapping my hands together to refocus them. “Get to it. I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.”
Leaving the boys to their packing, I head down the hall to Chloe’s room.
Chloe is sprawled out on her bed, her tiny body surrounded by stuffed animals. She’s holding her favorite one—an old, slightly worn-out bunny with one floppy ear. Her chubby little fingers are tangled in their fur as she hums a tune I don’t recognize. It’s the kind of peaceful moment I hate to ruin.
She looks up when I step in, her big brown eyes lighting up like she’s just seen Santa. “Wolfie!” she squeals, abandoning the doll and running toward me at full speed. Her little arms wrap around my legs, and I bend to scoop her up.
“Hey, munchkin,” I say, settling her on my hip. “We’re going on an adventure tonight. How does that sound?”
Chloe's eyes widen, and she tilts her head to the side, clearly intrigued. “An adventure? Like pirates?” She gasps again. “Or astronauts? Are we going to space?”
I chuckle softly and shake my head. “Not quite space, but somewhere safe and fun. You’ll stay with your brothers and Mommy the whole time.”
She frowns a little at that, her tiny brows furrowing in confusion. “What about you? You’re coming too, right?”
These kids and their concerns about me sink into my chest like a stone, but I force a reassuring smile onto my face.
“Of course, I’ll be around,” I say. “You think I’d let pirates or space aliens mess with my favorite crew? No way.”
Chloe giggles at that, her frown disappearing as quickly as it came. “Okay, but if we see pirates, I’m gonna fight them!” She punches the air with her tiny fists, and honestly, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen all day.
“You’re my fierce little fighter,” I say, setting her back down on the floor. “But first, you need to pack up your important stuff. Like Bun-Bun here.” I pick up her floppy-eared bunny and hand it to her.
She holds it close to her chest like it’s a treasure. “Okay! But can I take all my animals?”
I glance at the mountain of stuffed toys on her bed and wince inwardly. “Maybe not all of them, munchkin. Pick a few of your favorites—enough to keep you company, but not so many we need a truck just for your room.”
Chloe pouts, her lower lip jutting out like she’s auditioning for the role of cutest kid in the universe. “But they’ll be sad if I leave them!”
I kneel down so we’re eye level and give her a grin. “Here’s the thing, Chloe. Someone has to stay behind and guard your room while we’re gone. Just like Ramble and Hatchet stayed behind when I was gone. I mean it’s a big responsibility. Do you think your animals can handle that?”
Her eyes grow wide with understanding. She glances back at the stuffed army on her bed, her small hands clutching Bun-Bun tighter. “Okay,” she says after a brief second of thinking. “But Mister Snuggles is the boss, so he has to stay and be in charge.”
“Good choice.” I nod solemnly as if this is a matter of national security. “Mister Snuggles will do a great job. He’s got that leader vibe, you know? Reminds me of Hatchet with his very commanding presence.”
Chloe beams at me, her faith in Mister Snuggles’ abilities unwavering. “Yeah! Just like my Hatchet, he’ll tell everyone what to do. Bun-Bun will receive messages if they need me.”
I can’t help but grin at her and cannot wait to tell Hatchet. “Sounds like a rock-solid plan, munchkin. Pick a few friends to go on the adventure with us.”
She nods vigorously and rushes back to her bed, immediately starting to sort through her stuffed companions with the seriousness of a general assembling their troops. As soon as she is done, she stands in front of me.
“Good job, munchkin.” I ruffle her hair as she beams up at me. “Now go check on your brothers and make sure they’re not packing something ridiculous like the toaster.”
She giggles and skips off down the hall, her backpack bouncing behind her. I take a deep breath, and step out into the hallway, running a hand through my hair.
Janelle’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “You’re really good with them, you know.”
I glance up to see her leaning against the doorway of her bedroom, arms crossed but not in a defensive way—more like she doesn't know what to do with her hands. Her eyes are soft, but there’s something else there too. Gratitude? Admiration? Maybe she’s just trying to figure out how I managed to talk Chloe out of bringing an entire zoo with us.
I shrug, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. “Kids are easier than adults sometimes. They tell you exactly what they’re thinking. No guessing games.”
Janelle smirks slightly, pushing off the doorway. “And yet you managed to convince Chloe to leave Mister Snuggles in charge without a meltdown. That’s some kind of magic.”
“Trade secret,” I reply with a wink, though inside, my chest tightens in that funny way it always does when she looks at me like that. Like I’m something more than just a biker with a questionable moral compass and a knack for trouble.
She steps closer, and suddenly, the space between us feels smaller than it should. “Seriously, Onyx. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her voice is quiet, almost fragile, catching me off guard. Janelle’s usually strong and composed, even with everything she’s been through.
I wish she could see the lioness I see. “You’d do just fine. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and she shakes her head. “I don’t feel tough. Not when he’s still out there… watching.” Her voice breaks slightly on the last word, and I feel that familiar surge of anger bubbling up inside me. Anger at her piece-of-trash ex, who doesn’t know when to quit.
I take a step closer, my boots heavy against the floorboards. “Janelle,” I say firmly, my voice low but steady. “As long as I’m around, he won’t touch you or the kids. I don’t care if I have to stand guard 24/7. He comes near you, he’ll regret it.”
Her eyes meet mine, glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, just looks at me like she’s trying to figure out how I’ve managed to shoulder so much of her burden without ever flinching.
“I don’t want you putting yourself in danger,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve already done so much for us. Too much.”
“Danger’s kind of my thing,” I reply with a crooked grin, trying to lighten the mood. “And besides, you’re worth it.” I want to tell her this isn’t a job anymore to me; this feels like the start of forever.
The words slip out before I realize what I’m saying, and the air between us feels electric for a split second. Her eyes widen slightly, and I can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up her neck.
I clear my throat, glance toward the hallway, and quickly place my hands on her face, cupping her cheeks. Her quick intake of breath is the only sound in the room as I lean down, just enough for her to know what I’m about to do. I pause, giving her a moment, an out if she wants it. But she doesn’t move away. Instead, her eyes flutter closed, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
When our lips meet, it’s soft at first, like we’re both afraid of breaking whatever fragile connection we’ve been building between us. But then she leans into me, her hands finding their way to my waist, fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like she doesn’t want to let go. And I’m gone—completely and utterly gone.
It’s not the kind of kiss that sets off fireworks or makes the world spin; it’s something quieter but no less profound. It feels like coming home after years of wandering lost. It feels like safety and warmth and everything good that I didn’t think I deserved.
When we finally pull apart, “Janelle,” I whisper, my thumb brushing against her cheekbone. “I know this... us... it’s complicated. But I’m here for you. Not because I have to be, but because I want to be.”
Her eyes search mine, and I swear I can see a storm of thoughts swirling behind them. She might say something momentarily, push me away and tell me this is all a mistake. But instead, she places her hand over mine, the one still cradling her cheek, and leans into it like she’s drawing strength from me.
“I’m terrified,” she admits softly. “I’ve been scared for so long that I don’t know how to feel anything else. But when I’m with you…” Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head slightly as if frustrated with herself. “When I’m with you, I feel like maybe… maybe it’s okay to hope again.”
Her words hit me harder than any punch ever could. Hope. It’s such a small word, but she carries so much weight. I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Then let me be your hope, Janelle. Let me be the one who stands between you and everything that scares you and show you that it’s okay to breathe again. You deserve that—you and the kids. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her lips part like she wants to respond, and nothing comes out, but her grip on my hand tightens, and that’s all the answer I need for now.
Chloe’s voice echoes from down the hall, breaking the spell between us. “Mom! Abel’s trying to sneak the waffle maker into his bag!”
Janelle lets out a startled laugh, and I can’t help but chuckle. The moment might have been broken, but the warmth between us remains. She pulls back slightly, her cheeks still flushed and gives me a small, sheepish smile.
"I should go stop that before we end up with half the kitchen in the car," she says, her voice light now but her eyes still holding that vulnerable warmth from earlier.
I laugh, stepping back reluctantly but keeping my hand over hers for a moment longer. “I’ll handle it,” I offer with a grin. “You’ve got enough on your plate without negotiating with a twelve-year-old over aquatic travel companions.”
She gives me a grateful smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, her eyes have a glimmer of lightness. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”
I arch an eyebrow playfully as I head down the hall. “Luck’s overrated. I’ve got charm and sheer stubbornness on my side.”
As I approach the kids’ room, chaos is in full swing. Abel is standing defiantly with the waffle maker in one hand, like it’s Excalibur, while Dillon attempts to zip an overstuffed bag with more than just clothes. Bless her tiny heart, Chloe is perched on the bed, supervising like a pint-sized mob boss.
“What’s going on in here?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms. My voice carries just enough authority to make them pause mid-chaos.
Abel turns to me, his expression caught somewhere between guilt and determination. “We need it,” he declares firmly. “What if there aren’t waffles where we’re going?”
I bite back a laugh and nod solemnly. “A legitimate concern. But let me ask you this—do you know how to use that thing without setting the house on fire?”
He falters momentarily, glancing down at the waffle maker like it might betray him at any second, and that hits me hard. “I mean… how hard could it be?” he mumbles, though the hesitation in his voice is evident.
“Hard enough that I don’t think your mom would appreciate the kitchen or the house smelling like burned waffles,” I reply, stepping fully into the room. “Tell you what. Leave the waffle maker here, and I’ll personally guarantee you a waffle breakfast, no matter where we end up.”
Abel narrows his eyes, clearly weighing the odds of my promise, and it makes me want to bring even more pain against his father. “You swear?” he asks, his tone skeptical.
I press a hand over my heart. “Scout’s honor,” I say with a grin.
“I thought you were in the Army,” Dillon pipes up from behind the overstuffed bag.
“Same difference,” I shoot back, earning a giggle from Chloe and a begrudging smirk from Abel. Finally, Abel sighs and places the waffle maker back on the table. “Fine,” he relents, crossing his arms over his chest. “But if you break your promise, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
This kid, I can tell will keep me on my toes, and if not him I know his sister will. I need to see what Dillion has in his overflowing bag.
I kneel down in front of Dillon’s bag, eyeing it suspiciously. “All right, little man,” I say, gesturing for him to step aside. “What exactly do we have in here? You planning to open up a traveling flea market or something?”
Dillon hesitates, clutching the zipper tightly like I might confiscate his most prized possessions. His nose scrunches up in defiance, but eventually, he steps aside with a dramatic sigh. “It’s important stuff,” he insists. “Stuff we might need.”
“Important stuff, huh?” I unzip the bag slowly, watching his face for any signs of panic. His eyes dart nervously between me and the bag as I start pulling things out one by one. A stuffed T-Rex missing an arm. Three action figures that look like they’ve been through a war zone. A half-empty box of cereal. And… oh no.
“Dillon,” I say, holding up a bright pink bottle of bubble bath shaped like a unicorn. “You wanna explain this one?”
Chloe gasps from her perch on the bed. “That’s mine!” she exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at her brother, “Did you steal it?” With a sad look that replaces the anger. Dillon's face flushes red and stammers, “I didn’t steal it! I was… borrowing it! For emergencies!”
“Emergencies?” I echo, raising an eyebrow and trying hard not to laugh. “What kind of emergencies require unicorn bubble bath?”
Chloe crosses her arms, her tiny face scrunched in righteous indignation. “It’s mine! You don’t even like bubbles!”
“Well, maybe I do now!” Dillon shoots back, his chin lifting defiantly.
“All right, all right,” I interject before this escalates into a full-blown sibling war. “Let’s put the unicorn bubble bath back where it belongs. Chloe, you can keep your emergency bubble reserve. Dillon, we’ll find you something cooler to pack. Deal?”
Chloe narrows her eyes at her brother but nods solemnly, clearly feeling victorious. Dillon sulks for a moment before finally mumbling, “Fine.”
A smile spreads across my face as I notice that Hatchet's influence has affected her. I zip the bag back up and stand, brushing imaginary dust off my knees. “All right,” I announce, clapping my hands together. “Crisis averted. Are we ready to hit the road, or does someone else have a secret waffle iron stashed somewhere?”
Abel smirks but doesn’t answer, and Dillon casts one last longing glance at the unicorn bubble bath before nodding. Chloe, as always, looks like she’s ready to take on the world with her tiny fists of fury.
“Good,” I say with a grin. “Let’s load up. Your mom’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.”
As the three of them shuffle out of the room, I can’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions watching them go. They’ve been through so much—more than any kid should ever have to—but there’s resilience in them, too. A fire that refuses to be snuffed out.
Janelle meets us in the entryway, her arms crossed and a knowing look on her face. "Do I even want to ask what took so long?" she asks, though there’s a hint of amusement behind her words.
“Just some emergency bubble bath negotiations,” I reply with a grin, gesturing toward Chloe, who now clutches her unicorn bottle like it’s the Holy Grail.
Janelle raises an eyebrow. “Bubble bath?”
“I’ll explain later,” I say with a chuckle. “Let’s just say your kids have creative packing strategies.”
Her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh, but she gives me this soft look that feels like sunshine on my skin. "Thank you," she says simply, the weight of those two words hitting me harder than I expected.
“For what?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“For being... you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes flicker to the kids heading to the car, then back to me.
I was caught off guard by the tenderness in her words. For being me? I’ve been me my whole life, and it’s not exactly something people hand out medals for. But the way she says it like it’s this monumental thing makes my chest feel tight in the best way.
I scratch the back of my neck, trying to shake off the sudden wave of emotion. “Well,” I say, grinning, “if being me involves refereeing bubble bath disputes and ensuring waffle security, then I guess I’m doing okay.”
Janelle laughs softly, and it’s like music. “You’re doing more than okay,” she says, her eyes lingering on mine for a beat too long. Or maybe not long enough.
I clear my throat and gesture toward the door. “We should get moving before Abel decides he suddenly needs to pack the toaster or something.”
She nods but doesn’t move right away. Instead, she steps closer—just enough that I can catch the warmth radiating from her. Her voice drops to a whisper meant just for me. “I don’t know how you do it, Onyx. You come into our chaos, and somehow, you make it feel… manageable. Safer.”
Her words wrap around me like a warm blanket, like a weight I didn’t know I was carrying suddenly lifted. I manage a crooked smile, my default when emotions start creeping in too close. “Hey, chaos is kind of my thing,” I say lightly, though my heart’s hammering in my chest. “And besides... you and those kids? You’re worth every bit of it.”
She might say something that will completely undo me. Instead she just nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Let’s get going.” she says her voice warm and steady.
Before we can turn to leave, Chloe barrels back upstairs, clutching her unicorn bottle like it’s been knighted in battle.
“Mom! Wolf said I could keep my emergency bubbles!” Chloe announces loudly, breaking the moment like a glass shattering on tile.
Janelle steps back quickly, her hands finding her hips as though she needs an anchor. “Did she now?” she asks lightly, giving me a look over Chloe’s head that says this conversation isn’t over.
“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” I say with a shrug, bending down to ruffle Chloe’s hair as she beams up at me. “I just enforce them.”
Janelle shakes her head, laughing under her breath, and I take that as my cue to start ushering the kids out the door. Abel and Dillon are already halfway down the front steps, arguing about who gets the window seat, while Chloe skips behind them clutching her unicorn bottle like it's a VIP pass to some exclusive five-year-old bubble party.
Outside is a black SUV with darkened windows waiting for us, and my brother Tank is behind the wheel.
Tank rolls down the window as we approach, his grin as wide as the state of Texas. “Took y’all long enough,” he says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “What’s the holdup this time? Somebody forget to pack their lucky socks?”
“Emergency unicorn bubble bath,” I reply, deadpan.
Tank blinks at me, then at Chloe, who’s still clutching her precious bottle with a look of pure determination. “I’m not even gonna ask,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Get in before Abel and Dillon kill each other over the backseat.”
Janelle quickly glances at me, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to laugh again. It’s becoming a pattern today—her laughing and me feeling like my insides are doing somersaults. I open the passenger door for her, and she slides in gracefully while I herd the kids toward the back.
Before I can sound off what the orders are, Chloe speaks from the back, “Are you not coming with us Wolf?” Her voice so small and unsure which is not like Chloe at all.
I pause, one hand on the door handle, caught off guard by Chloe’s question. Her big eyes stare at me like I told her Santa doesn’t exist. “Of course I’m coming,” I say quickly, flashing her a reassuring smile. “After I make sure you all are buckled in, I will follow behind on my bike, okay.”
Her little face scrunches up, clearly not satisfied with my answer. “But why can’t you come in the car with us? There’s room! Abel said he’ll squish!”
“Hey!” Abel protests from the backseat, looking mildly offended. “I didn’t say that!”
Chloe ignores him, and her focus is solely on me. “Please, Wolf? You can sit next to me and hold my bubbles so they don’t spill.”
Janelle turns in her seat, her eyes softening as she watches the scene unfold. I’m caught between laughter and a strange ache in my chest as Chloe stares me down with those big doe eyes. I’ve faced down armed fugitives and angry bikers without breaking a sweat, but this kid? She’s got me teetering.
“I promise your unicorn bubbles are safe,” I tell her gently, crouching down to her eye level. “And besides, someone needs to watch over my bike. It gets lonely if I leave it behind.” I tap my temple as if it’s the most logical thing in the world.
Chloe’s pout deepens, her lower lip jutting out in a way that could probably bring world peace if harnessed properly. “Your bike doesn’t have feelings,” she counters with five-year-old certainty.
“Maybe not,” I say, leaning in conspiratorially, “but don’t tell it that. It thinks it’s the coolest ride around, and we wouldn’t want to hurt its feelings.”
That earns me the faintest giggle, though she still doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Fine,” she sighs dramatically, clutching her unicorn bottle closer. “But you better not take too long to catch up!”
“I’ll be right behind you guys,” I promise, holding up two fingers like I’m swearing an oath. “Scout’s honor.”
Tank taps the steering wheel, breaking the moment. “I hate to be the bad guy here, but we need to get a move on before traffic turns into a nightmare,” he says in his usual gruff-but-friendly tone.
Chloe suspiciously narrows her eyes at me but finally relents with a small nod. “Okay. But you have to beep your horn when you catch up so I know you’re there.”
“Deal,” I say, grinning. “One honk for Chloe. Got it.”
With the kids finally settled and Janelle giving me one last lingering look before turning forward, I close the door and step back. Tank gives me a mock salute before rolling up the window and pulling away from the curb. Tank and I can hear Abel and Dillon arguing faintly through the glass as the SUV disappears down the street.
I stand there for a moment, hands on my hips, watching them go. The ache in my chest flares up again, but this time it’s mixed with something else—a strange kind of hope I haven’t felt in a long time.
“Those kids are something else especially Chloe,” I mutter to myself with a shake of my head before heading toward my bike parked by the curb. My Harley gleams under the sunlight like an old friend waiting patiently for me.
As I swing my leg over the seat, the leather warm from the sun. The familiar weight of the handlebars in my hands grounds me, but my mind is still stuck on those big doe eyes and Janelle’s soft smile. I start the engine, the low rumble vibrating through me like a second heartbeat.
“All right, girl,” I say to the bike, giving the handlebars a small pat, “let’s catch up to our new favorite chaos brigade.”
The engine purrs in agreement as I pull out onto the road, following the path the SUV took. The wind whips through my hair, and for a moment, it’s just me, the open road, and the steady rhythm of my Harley beneath me. But then—because life likes to keep things interesting—I spot something in my rearview mirror that makes my stomach knot.
A black sedan. Tinted windows. Keeping a little too close for comfort.
My grip tightens on the handlebars as I glance back again. Could be nothing—a coincidence. Or it could be something else entirely. Something worse.
I pick up speed slightly, testing whether the car will follow suit. Sure enough, it does. My chest tightens as old instincts kick in. I reach up to tap my helmet’s Bluetooth communicator and call Tank.
“Yo,” his voice crackles through the line, casual and oblivious.
“We’ve got a shadow,” I say, keeping my tone calm but firm. “Black sedan. Tinted windows. Been tailing me since we left. You see anything like it near you?”
There’s a pause as Tank processes what I just said. “Hang tight, Wolf. Lemme check the mirrors.” A beat later, his voice returns, sharper now. “Yeah, I see it. About two cars back from us.”
“Great,” I mutter, glancing at the SUV in the distance ahead of me. My heart rate picks up, but I force myself to stay steady. “What’s the play here? Kids are with you—can’t risk anything stupid.”
Tank chuckles darkly, his usual bravado slipping into his words. “Don’t worry about my end. Just make sure you don’t end up on tonight’s news as ‘local badass biker causes highway chaos.’”
“Not planning on it,” I shoot back, though my fingers itch to twist the throttle and lose the sedan in a cloud of dust. Not an option with the kids so close. “Stay on them but don’t engage. I’ll try to lead them off.”
Tank grunts his agreement. “You sure about that? Janelle’s not gonna be thrilled if you go all lone wolf on this.”
I glance at the SUV again, now a few more car lengths ahead. Janelle doesn’t need this. Not today. Not with everything she’s already dealing with. “I’ll be fine,” I say firmly, though my stomach twists at the thought of her worrying. “Just keep them safe.”
“Copy that,” Tank says, his voice laced with reluctant trust.
I disconnect the call and let out a slow breath, my mind racing through possibilities. Whoever’s in that sedan clearly isn’t here for a friendly chat. Could it be Janelle’s ex? His goons? Or someone from one of my less-than-sunny escapades? The list of people who might want to tail me isn’t exactly short, and none of them scream “birthday party guest.”
“All right, Wolf,” I mutter under my breath. “Time to play this cool.”
I ease off the throttle just enough to let the sedan think I’m none the wiser. Maybe I can use that to my advantage if they think they're being clever. My eyes dart to a side street up ahead—a quiet-looking residential road with just enough twists and turns to make things interesting.
I glance ahead at the SUV. Janelle’s soft smile flashes in my mind again, and for a moment, I wish I could tell her everything. Then I shake that thought away. No time for wishful thinking when shady sedans are involved.
The side street comes up fast, and without signaling, I veer sharply onto it. My tires screech slightly against the pavement as I lean into the turn, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline surge through my veins. The sedan hesitates for a split second but then follows, its tires squealing to keep up. Gotcha.
The street is quieter than I hoped—no cars parked along the curb, no pedestrians to act as witnesses. Just me, my bike, and whoever’s stupid enough to think they can tail me without consequences. I glance at my mirrors again. The sedan’s still there, its dark windows like soulless eyes staring back at me.
“All right, buddy,” I mutter under my breath, “let’s see how good you are.”
I push the throttle, the Harley roaring in response as I speed down the narrow street. My eyes dart around, scanning for anything—a sharp turn, an alleyway, a convenient dumpster—that could give me the upper hand. The sedan keeps pace, but it’s clear they’re struggling to handle the tight corners as gracefully as my bike can.
It was then I see another black sedan break off and head toward where Tank was heading. “Fuck there was two of them, and this guy is a fucking diversion.”
I slap my hand against the handlebars, frustration bubbling up in my chest. "Damn it," I hiss, scanning the street ahead for an opening. My heart races, pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. Tank and the kids are ahead—vulnerable—and now there's another sedan closing in on them.
I tap my communicator again, hoping Tank picks up fast. The line crackles before his voice comes through, gruff and irritated. “What now?”
“There’s a second car,” I say quickly, weaving around a pothole as the sedan behind me sticks to my tail like glue. “It broke off and it’s heading your way. This one’s just here to keep me busy.”
There’s a beat of silence where I can practically hear Tank processing the situation. Then: “Son of a—okay, okay. I’ll handle it. You focus on staying alive back there.”
“Tank,” I growl, the panic creeping into my voice despite my effort to stay calm. “You’ve got three kids with you. You can’t exactly go full Rambo.”
“I know what I’m doing, Wolf,” he snaps back, but his tone softens after a beat. “I’ll keep them safe. Just... don’t get yourself killed playing hero.”
I grit my teeth, watching the sedan in my mirrors as it inches closer. “No promises,” I mutter, cutting the line before I can overthink it. Tank’s got the kids, and he’s no amateur, but that doesn’t stop the gnawing worry from clawing at my chest.
The sedan behind me makes a bold move, swerving closer like it’s trying to nudge me off the road. I jerk the handlebars to the side just in time, narrowly avoiding its attempt. My heart leaps into my throat, but I force myself to focus. This isn’t my first dance with road games.
“All right, you wanna play?” I growl under my breath.
I spot an upcoming alleyway—narrow enough that the sedan won’t be able to follow without some serious scraping. It’s a gamble, but I’m willing to take it. Tightening my grip on the handlebars, I angle toward it and gun the throttle.
The Harley roars to life, the engine growling like a caged beast as I shoot toward the alley. The sedan hesitates for a split second before trying to follow, but the narrow entrance proves too much for its bulky frame. I hear the crunch of metal on brick and glance back to see the car scrape against the wall, sparks flying. Serves them right.
“Not today,” I mutter, speeding down the alley with my heart still thundering in my chest. The walls close in around me, and for a moment, it feels like I can’t breathe—like the fire is back, licking at my skin, burning through my memories. But I shove it down. Focus. Not now.