Page 155 of Road to Redemption

Trying to stay steady, I tried not to look at Isaac. But it was impossible to ignore.

His suit jacket had worn through completely, his thrashing only making the damage worse. And his thin button down had already ripped enough for his bare skin to meet the road. A trail of blood followed behind Dom’s bike.

Isaac’s wrists stayed over his head, his dress shoes lost after the first tight curve ripped them off his heels.

“Please!” He screamed.

But his pleas were drowned out by the roar of our engines.

When his bargaining wouldn’t quiet, Dom kicked up the gear on her bike. The speed made Isaac’s screams louder. The smell of burning flesh drifted into my helmet — like poorly cooked meat and melting plastic.

Just when I thought he wouldn’t survive much longer, we reached the outskirts of Valemont’s downtown.

Pedestrians turned to see who was coming. They recognized the bikes of the Violence but more importantly they recognized the bastard being tugged along Dom’s bike.

Jeers started from the streets. At first, I couldn’t tell if they were yelling at us or Isaac.

But as we approached Lucky Strike, it became evident.

Violence bikers stood outside the shop with college kids from Atwood, holding signs scrawled in messy acrylic paint: PEDOPHILE. RAPIST.

Towns folk pulled out their phones, recording the moment. Dom revved her engine before speeding up, rocketing down to Main Street with Spencer matching her pace at the front. Leo and I followed, even as nervous as I was to pick up my speed.

From the sidewalks, Valemont residents threw empty cups, farmers market produce at Isaac. His body was covered in blood and trash.

Just ahead, City Hall and the Valemont Police precinct came into view.

Dom roared her bike, picking up insane speed and dragging Isaac's shredded — but still breathing — body along. Tire marks and blood stained Main Street.

Rubber burned as Dom skidded to a halt in the middle of the road. Leo, Spencer, and I circled the Brabus and Isaac a few times before settling next to them.

Isaac tried to scramble to his feet, still finding some fight in himself. But he couldn’t get a grip on the pavement. Blood poured from his wounds, his words muttered.

A crowd had gathered by city hall, impromptu protestors ready to hold their government accountable. They’d watched for decades as their children and women were poached and trafficked, all to the deaf ears of lazy cops.

Dom stood on her Brabus, lifting her helmet to the crowd.

Seeing it was her, the protestors and gathered citizens quieted. But the anger on their faces didn’t.

Leo and Spencer rose from their bikes, making sure Isaac didn’t try anything.

Dom’s voice roared across the concrete. “I see your anger. And Valemont Violence has answered.”

A cheer rose from the crowd.

“Your police have failed you. The wealthy at the top have failed you.”

More angry jeering erupted from the growing ground.

Dom’s face was a snarl, sweat building on her brow. “But we have not. We have been your silent protectors. The shadows getting you home at night.”

Looking down at us, Dom’s blue eyes pierced mine. “Not anymore. We’re stepping into the light. It’s our turn to protect what’s ours.”

Behind her, on the steps of City Hall, DA Burns nodded along. She’d spent her career watching the corrupt cops of this town not just ignore but nurture the criminal trafficking ring that simmered in its underbelly.

“Isaac Dumont lived in this town for decades. His men poached our most vulnerable, our neighbors. Every surrounding town felt the sting.

“And what did your police do?”