Savage Obsession (Savage Reign #4)

Chapter 1

WILLOW

S now isn’t supposed to fall in New Orleans. Not like this. Not like the kind of whiteout that erases the world in seconds, blanketing every cypress and willow in ghostly silence.

On any other night, I would revel in the eerie silence and let it swallow me whole if only for a night.

Instead of shutting out the world, I struggle to keep my four-wheel drive out of a ditch. The storm is relentless and the deeper I drive into the swirling storm, the less I can see.

I reach forward and swipe at the glass with the back of my sleeve, but it doesn’t do much good against the cold.

The wall of white in front of me swallows my high beams, muffling the roar of my engine, and steals every last hint of color from the sky.

Today went from what I hoped would be a quiet day to all out hell all because my freaking father can’t keep himself out of trouble for a single day.

I grip the wheel and fight against the punching wind. My heart beats like it’s trying to beat fast enough to catch fire in my chest. It burns bad enough, that’s for damn sure.

I can’t tell if it’s because of the storm or the fear of what my father will do when he catches up with me.

Does it matter? Not really. I mentally reach for the phone I have tucked between my thighs.

Everything I need to stop my father and his criminal ways is there.

He’s the reason I’m risking my life in this crazy storm.

Someone needs to stop him before more people die from the drugs he’s selling.

Since none of his raggedy crew want to step up and be decent human beings, that leaves me.

I just have to get out of Peril and make it to New Orleans in one piece.

There’s a detective there waiting. She’ll know what to do and then I can finally rest. And maybe beg for witness protection, because there’s one thing my father won’t stand for and that is betrayal.

Especially from his family. I know because my mother once tried to step in and stop him.

She’s now dead.

“I just have to make it to the city.” I offer up to my guardian angels. “Help me get there and I promise to do all I can to stop my father from hurting more people.” I can only hope someone somewhere is listening, but if not I have big problems on my hands right now.

The snowstorm is not letting up and the heater in this thing isn't making any progress in heating the cabin. I punch at the controls to the heater but the damn thing is barely warm enough to keep my fingers from freezing, never mind the rest of me.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles blanched bone-pale, the worn leather squeaking as I fight to keep the Jeep from fishtailing into the nearby marsh.

My foot is barely grazing the gas at this point, but every arctic gust shoves the SUV sideways.

Frost claws at the edges of the windshield, creeping up the thick glass like curling tendrils I can barely see through.

I swipe at the glass with the back of my sleeve again just in time to swerve around a steep curve in the winding back road.

The defroster gave up ten miles back and so did my cell service.

I grab my phone and check the signal again.

“Yep. Still out.” I shove the cell phone back in place and send up a prayer.

Thirty more minutes tops, and I’ll be inside the New Orleans Police Department and safe.

I dreamed about getting out of the biker life, but not like this. This isn't the freedom I was going for. This is desperation, pure and cold as the night air leaking through the cracked seal on my driver’s side door.

Damn my father for his greed. If he didn’t want to eliminate every rival Savage biker in the state, and need the money to do it, then… then…

I slam my frozen hand down on the wheel. Frustration and massive amounts of adrenaline force a scream from me. “ARGH!”

Some days I really hate the blood running through my veins. Of all the men who could have fathered me, it had to be the lowest of the scum.

I swipe at the unwanted tears running down my cheeks. “Fuck!” I roar again into the empty cabin. I don’t know much of anything, but I know with all my soul I can’t take another minute living under that man’s thumb and violence.

I keep driving, eyes stinging, breath hitching in my chest. I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror.

Wild, snow-damp hair, cheeks blotched red with cold and panic, eyes that look too much like my mother’s.

I press trembling fingers to the snowflake charm at my neck.

It belonged to my mother. She loved winter and snow.

And once upon a time she loved my father.

She turned a blind eye to the monster that lives inside that man. Why? Who the hell knows, but she did.

As for me? I can’t do it. Through the years I watched him grow more ruthless and hungry by the day until today. I touch my phone. I finally have what I need to take him down.

“You got this, Willow,” I whisper. “Just one more mile.” And after that, one more. It won’t take me long to get out of Péril, past Savage territory and then I’ll damn near be home free.

The wipers groan across the glass and with that sound comes a wave of goosebumps to run up my back. I reach for the heater and make sure the damn thing is cranked to max, but there’s not much that will fight the cold settling into my bones.

Fat, wet flakes slam against the windshield and hood like a million little fists.

I’m barreling straight into Savage Reign territory.

Another couple of miles and I’ll be out of enemy territory.

Not mine, but I have the cursed Caine surname so I don't think any Savage would stop to ask me where I stand on my biker politics before offing me for being in their territory.

I take a bend in the road a little too fast and hit a patch of black ice that sends me fishtailing all over the freaking road. I swerve, turn the wheel and swerve the other way. By the grace of a miracle I don’t end up tucked around a tree, but my heart thuds frantically like I did anyway.

Freedom should feel sweeter than this, but I know the minute I am out of danger I will finally take a deep breath.

A low, unholy groan splits the night and the Jeep’s engine chokes before stalling out. The orange and white dashboard lights flicker, and then everything turns pitch black.

Shadows of lumbering trees extending over the road, blocking massive amounts of snow from piling up on the road. But in its place is something even more dangerous.

Black ice. I don’t see it, or much of anything else, when the wheels of my SUV hit the ice. The blacked-out world around me tilts, and my stomach drops out as the car spins once, twice.

“Ohmyfuckinggodddd!” With every fiber of my being I clutch at the wheel and pray for dear life, but it’s too late. Nothing can stop what happens next.

Metal crunches and tree branches lash the sides. Glass shatters like sharp weapons of frozen water. Crystal shards slice into the backs of my hands and my cheeks. The only warmth I feel is the trickles of blood droplets oozing down my cheeks.

I notice all this in a split second before slamming nose-first into a snowdrift and flipping upside down.

The seatbelt locks tight across my chest, bruising flesh, pinning me breathless for a moment. But not before my forehead meets the hard surface of the steering wheel.

I will not panic. I will not panic.

Pain flashes white-hot through my entire body before the sting of cold rushes in right behind the flash of heat. Sharp wind shoves through the shattered driver’s window, spraying me with ice and snow.

I throw my arms up, but the blackness in my vision is more than just the lack of light. The inside of the SUV starts to spin and my eyes threaten to close.

I have to get out of here. I can’t give in to the cold.

Half numb fingers fumble for the seatbelt latch.

No matter how hard I try, the stupid button won’t give.

My heart shudders and quakes in my chest. The hot engine ticks as the cold suffocates the heat from the mangled beast. The wintery world outside is nothing but snow and shadow.

All street signs and landmarks are erased by the raging blizzard.

I can’t leave but at the same time, I can’t stay here.

I fumble for my phone and pray there’s a signal when I finally find it on the roof of the flipped SUV, but my hope dies quickly.

I lick my dry, freezing lips and work the freaking seatbelt again. Where can I go? I don’t even know where I am. How deep am I into Savage Reign territory?

Does it matter?

Maybe.

Depends if I want to die by their hand or my fathers.

If I cared enough right now, I’d choose one Savage Reign man I wouldn’t mind touching me—even if it was just to finish me off.

Silvan “Venom” Mercer. My God that man is a walking wet dream.

The cold leaves my body for a second as the warmth of his memory shoots through me.

Not that the Savage medic knows I exist. The truth is, I’ve loved the man from afar for all of my teens and now on into my mid-twenties.

It’s always the one you can’t have that you want the most, and he’s had my attention for longer than I care to admit.

I let my lashes brush over the tops of my cheeks. Just for a moment. Kind of funny how the crew medic has a name like Venom. But I shove the thought out of my throbbing head. I need to focus right now and not think about some fantasy dream I can never have.

This is not a made up dream and the very real cold is working overtime in trying to end my life.

Panic nips at the edges of my mind. I blink tears out of my eyes, refusing to let myself cry.

Get out. Move.

For the first time in a long while my inner voice makes sense. I can die here or die out there trying to get to someone’s house.

A couple of jerks and something gives with the seatbelt. I tumble to what was once the roof of the vehicle and force my numb fingers to flex. Careful not to cut myself on the shards of glass sprinkled amongst the snow, I pull myself out of the flipped SUV.

I struggle to stand, but once I am free, I stumble several steps from the SUV before my knees buckle, sending me face first into shin-deep snow.

The cold slices straight through my pajamas, gnawing at bare skin, freezing my toes inside my slippers.

My breath comes out ragged and I swear every time I inhale pain needles through my chest.

Somewhere far off, wind whips through the trees, howling like invisible monsters. I force myself to my feet again and turn in a slow circle. There’s nothing—just white, and night, and the dark shapes of trees clawing at the sky.

No lights. No voices. No sign of anyone. Not even the white burst of high beams from an approaching car.

Shit.

That’s because no one is stupid enough to be out here. For a second, I feel how small I am, how easy it would be to just vanish in all this emptiness.

I close my eyes for a second. I mean, that’s one way of leaving the terror or my life behind.

I wrap my arms tight around my middle and trudge a few steps into the night.

The snow soaks up every sound but my ragged breathing and the crunch of my slippers packing down the ice.

I look up, snowflakes land on my lashes and my lips, melting on my cheeks like cold kisses that taste of salt and winter.

“This is insane.” I press a hand to my forehead and pull back a hand full of blood. Fog rolls over my mind and I have to physically shake it off. “What the fuck am I doing? Focus, Willow. I’m trying to do the right thing. I need to get to New Orleans.”

My words fall heavy into the snow, unheard. If I can only get a signal on my phone, I can send everything I have to the detective. I stumble back to the SUV but the numbness in my toes and fingers have me going for the last bit of warmth I can find, instead.

My teeth chatter together so hard my jaw aches.

I squat down by the Jeep’s bumper, knees pressed to my chest, chin tucked in, trying to steal whatever warmth I can from the useless engine block.

The metal burns through my thin pajamas just enough to keep me from killing over.

My whole body trembles. My mind races on an endless loop of death by freak snowstorm or bullets.

If the storm doesn’t kill me, my father’s men will.

If I stay put, I’ll freeze or die for what I have on my phone.

If I run, I’ll get lost. And then die by exposure.

“Well, shit.”

I close my eyes and pray. Not for rescue, but for strength. For a little bit of fire. For a sign that I made the right choice.

The snow falls harder. My slippers are soaked through. Numbness crawls up my legs, into my fingers, into my heart. All I can do is breathe, and wait, and hope the blizzard hides me long enough to be found by someone—anyone—who isn’t my father’s loyal monsters.

Damn Vultures. I hate every last one of my father’s crew. I’ll die trying to ruin them.

And I’m okay with that.

I’m finally free.