Chapter 4
Four
Emma
The moment the bar door slammed shut behind me, the music faded into a muffled thump, and the cool night air hit my overheated skin like a splash of cold water.
I took a deep breath, then another, feeling like I’d been holding my breath for hours inside that crowded bar.
The air out here smelled like gravel, gasoline, and freshly cut grass drifting in from the fields surrounding the building.
This place was in the middle of nowhere—a lonely bar next to a long stretch of dark country road.
Inside had started to feel… just too much.
Too loud. Too packed. Too intense. Maya had disappeared almost half an hour ago with one of the bikers she’d been flirting with all night.
One minute she was right beside me at the bar, and the next, she was laughing as some guy pulled her toward the hallway near the bathrooms. She hadn’t even looked back at me or asked if I was okay staying.
And now my phone was dead. No Uber. No service. No ride. Just me. Standing outside a biker bar in the middle of nowhere.
“Awesome,” I muttered under my breath.
What surprised me the most was how empty the front of the bar was.
Usually, places like this had a small crowd of smokers lingering by the entrance—people laughing, arguing, or someone leaning against the wall scrolling through their phone.
But there was no one. Not a single soul.
Just the quiet hum of crickets in the tall grass and the distant thump of bass vibrating through the walls of the building.
I wrapped my arms around myself and tipped my head back, staring up at the dark sky. The stars were bright out here—brighter than I ever saw back in town. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “You’re fine.”
Maybe Maya would come looking for me. Maybe she’d realize she ditched me. Maybe—
Suddenly, the bar door slammed open behind me. I jumped, my heart leaping into my throat as heavy footsteps stumbled onto the gravel.
“Well, well,” a thick, slurred voice called out.
I slowly turned around. A man staggered toward me, swaying slightly as he walked.
His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and I could smell the alcohol on him before he even reached me.
He wore a crooked leather cut, a patch on the back I didn’t recognize.
It wasn’t like the ones the bikers inside had been wearing.
“Pretty girl out here all alone,” he said, dragging his words together lazily. “That’s dangerous.”
I forced a polite smile. “I’m just getting some air.”
He stepped closer. Too close. His gaze crawled over me like a bug.
“Air’s better with company,” he said, closing the distance.
“I’m okay, thanks,” I replied, trying to shift sideways to step around him.
But he moved with me, blocking my path. My stomach tightened.
“C’mon,” he said, reaching for my arm. “Don’t be like that.”
I jerked away instantly. “I said I’m okay.”
His expression hardened.
“Oh, I think you’ll change your mind.”
Before I could react, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was rough, pain shooting up my arm immediately.
“Let go of me!”
He tugged me toward him, his breath hot and sour with alcohol.
“Relax,” he slurred. “You’ll like it.”
“I promise you I won’t,” I snapped, trying to yank my arm free. “And judging by the way you’re swaying, I’m guessing you couldn’t get your dick up even if you tried.”
His eyes flashed with anger.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“You heard me,” I shot back, my heart racing but my mouth apparently having no survival instinct. “Maybe go sleep it off before you embarrass yourself.”
His grip tightened painfully around my wrist.
“You think you’re funny?” he growled.
“No,” I said flatly. “I think you’re drunk, pathetic, and about two seconds away from getting arrested if you don’t let go of me.”
He laughed harshly.
“Ain’t nobody around to arrest me, sweetheart.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I noticed. Which is probably the only reason you’re brave enough to try this.”
His jaw clenched.
“You got a mouth on you,” he said darkly.
“And you’ve got whiskey dick written all over your face.”
His hand shot out again, grabbing my other arm.
My back slammed against the side of the building, the breath rushing out of my lungs.
“Relax,” he slurred again, leaning closer. “You’ll like it.”
“Trust me,” I shot back, trying to twist away, “if you’re the best this place has to offer, I’ll pass.”
His grip tightened, pinning my arms harder.
“Keep talking,” he sneered. “See how that works out for you.”
“Oh, I will,” I snapped. “Because the more you talk, the more I’m convinced that even if you could get it up, no woman would stick around long enough to find out.”
His face twisted with rage.
“You little bitch—”
Think. Think. Think.
I shoved him again, and this time he stumbled slightly. The alcohol was slowing him down, making him sloppy. That was my only chance.
I planted both hands on his chest and shoved with everything I had. He staggered backward—just far enough.
I didn’t think.
I just swung.
My fist connected with his face with a sickening crunch.
Pain exploded through my hand.
“AH—!” I screamed, the sound tearing out of my throat the moment my fist made contact. White-hot agony shot through my wrist.
But the man dropped instantly, collapsing flat on his back in the gravel like someone had cut his strings.
For a moment, I just stood there, frozen. My hand throbbed violently, and my wrist pulsed with sharp, stabbing pain.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
I had never punched someone before. Never even been close to a fight. My wrist was already swelling, and something inside it felt… wrong. Loose. Broken.
“Shit,” I breathed, tears filling my eyes. “I think I broke it.”
The man on the ground groaned faintly, and that was all the motivation I needed. I turned and bolted, running past him into the darkness beyond the bar’s parking lot.
Ten minutes later, I couldn’t run anymore.
My lungs burned, and my legs felt like jelly.
My wrist throbbed with every movement. I slowed to a shaky walk, cradling my arm tightly against my chest like it was something fragile that might fall apart if I moved it wrong.
Tears streamed down my face, and I could feel my mascara running.
I probably looked insane—hair messy, makeup ruined, clutching my arm like a lunatic on the side of a pitch-black country road.
My wrist throbbed with every heartbeat. The pain was sharp, deep, constant.
“I’m so stupid,” I muttered, looking at the endless stretch of road ahead of me. Dark fields lined both sides, nothing but miles of empty road. I had about ten miles before I even reached the outskirts of town. Ten miles. And I was almost sure my wrist was broken.
I kicked a loose rock on the road and instantly regretted it. “I’m so pissed at you, Maya,” I said out loud. I was furious she ditched me, didn’t check on me, and that I stayed. Pissed I’d drunk enough to dull my instincts. Most of all—I was angry at myself.
A low rumble rolled across the night air.
At first, I thought it was thunder, but it grew louder, closer. My stomach dropped. Oh God. What if it was him? What if he woke up? What if he had friends?
Headlights appeared behind me, bright beams cutting through the darkness.
The bikes roared past, wind whipping my hair around my face as they blew by. Relief rushed through me, and I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Until—
The engines slowed.
My stomach sank again.
The bikes turned and came back, pulling to a stop in front of me on the side of the road.
Multiple motorcycles.
Multiple riders.
Their headlights pointed straight at me, blinding me completely. I couldn’t see their faces, but they could absolutely see me—tears streaming down my cheeks, smeared mascara, clutching my arm.
Fear crept up my spine as I slowly started backing away—one step, then another. Gravel crunched beneath my feet.
A bike engine shut off, then another.
Boots hit the ground, and a deep voice cut through the darkness.
“Easy there.”
I froze, heart racing.
“We’re not gonna hurt you.”
I couldn’t see who spoke; the headlights were too bright. But the voice was calm, controlled.
I took another step backward anyway.
Another man stepped forward, his silhouette moving out of the harsh beams. Recognition hit instantly—it was the biker from earlier, the one who had walked into the bar and owned the room.
He slowly pulled off his helmet, dark hair falling messily across his forehead. Sharp eyes locked onto me instantly, then dropped to my arm.
His entire expression changed.
The easy confidence vanished, replaced by something darker.
“What the fuck happened to you?”