Shay
I didn’t belong here.
That was the first clear thought I had once the caffeine hit my bloodstream and the fog of last night finally burned off enough for my brain to function.
I didn’t belong on an island.
I didn’t belong in a biker clubhouse with men who carried guns like they were cell phones.
And I definitely didn’t belong in a situation where someone, some psycho, had taken pictures of me without me knowing.
But standing in the Kings of Anarchy clubhouse kitchen, fumbling with a box of cereal I didn’t even want, I knew one thing for sure:
I wasn’t leaving.
Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I wasn’t stupid.
Prime leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, jaw tight, and eyes glued to me like I might vanish into thin air.
Or get murdered by the toaster.
Neither was going to happen.
I poured cereal into a bowl and tried to pretend this was normal.
It wasn’t.
Nothing about today was normal.
“So,” I said, “what do you guys normally do around here?”
Prime didn’t look amused.“We’ve all got our jobs around here.Keeping the haunted house and boat rides running smoothly is a lot.”
“Right,” I said.“I fit in perfectly with my skill set of scanning groceries for minimum wage.”
He didn’t crack a smile.
I didn’t blame him.The last couple of days had been a lot.
“Where’s everyone?”I asked as I spooned cereal into my mouth, like it didn’t taste like cardboard.
“Outside,” Prime said.“Fog’s lifting.They’re going over the perimeter.”
“Looking for… him.”
Prime nodded once.It wasn’t a comforting nod.
I swallowed hard.“You’re sure he won’t come here?”
“Not sure of much, but the guy has to be a fucking idiot if he tries to get into the clubhouse.”
“You say that very confidently since you didn’t sleep last night.What happens when you finally sleep?”
His jaw flexed.“I don’t sleep on nights when someone under this roof is being hunted.”
Being hunted.
