“No.” My word came out too fast, too sharp. I softened my tone. “I mean, you don’t have to. I know you’re busy with club stuff. I’ll be fine on my own.”
His eyes narrowed. “Alex.”
“I’m twenty-two years old, Oscar. I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”
“Oh, you need something, alright,” he grumbled. “You just won’t tell me what.”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Couldn’t give him one without unraveling everything. So I drank my coffee and pretended not to notice the way he watched me, like he was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. Like he was waiting for me to slip up.
I spent the rest of the day planning.
The meet was tomorrow night. Eleven PM at an abandoned gas station just past the county line. I needed to scout the location, figure out escape routes, and identify potential threats. I needed to be smart about this. Smarter than I had been with Michael. I waited until Oscar left the clubhouse with Zeus and the other officers before I slipped out. I jumped on my Ducati and headed north on Highway 175.
The ride took less than twenty minutes, and the gas station was exactly what I expected: a crumbling relic from another era, windows boarded up, pumps rusted and broken. The kind of place people drove past without a second glance. Perfect for a clandestine meeting.
Perfect for an ambush.
I parked my bike across the road, hidden behind a cluster of trees, and studied the location. There were two ways in and out. Highway 175 and Farm Road 2495. The station sat at the intersection, surrounded by empty fields and darkness. No cover. No witnesses. No help if things went wrong.
This is a bad idea.
But I was out of good ideas.
I took photos with my phone, marking potential hiding spots, angles of approach, places where someone could wait in ambush. Then I rode the surrounding roads, memorizing turns and landmarks, planning escape routes. By the time I got back to the clubhouse, it was late afternoon, and Oscar’s bike was lined up and parked out front with the others.
Shit.
I parked my bike and headed inside, trying to look casual. He was in the main gathering room, beer in hand, watching me with that same unreadable expression.
“Where were you?”
“Riding. Like I said.”
“For five hours?”
“I lost track of time.”
He didn’t respond. Just took a long pull from his beer and kept watching me. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke. “Zeus wants to see you tomorrow. In church.”
My blood ran cold. “Why?”
“He didn’t say. Just said to be there at noon.”
Noon. The meet is at eleven PM. I can do both.
“Okay,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Sure. I’ll be there.”
Oscar nodded slowly. “Good.”
But the way he said it made it clear that it wasn’t a request. It was an order. And in the Gods of Mayhem, even I knew not to refuse orders.
Not even if I was the enforcer’s little sister.
That night, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, as my mind raced. Tomorrow, I would meet with Zeus. Answer whatever questions he had. Play the role of the prodigal daughter returning home after a bad breakup. Then tomorrow night, Iwould meetBrotherDocsat that abandoned gas station. Get my new identity and then disappear.
Simple.
Except nothing about this was simple. Zeus was suspicious. Oscar was suspicious. And whoever I was meeting tomorrow night, whether it was reallyBrotherDocsor someone else entirely, was an unknown variable I couldn’t control.
