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I slowly bare my teeth in disgust. “Are you serious right now?”

He slides his arms into the sleeves without looking at me. “This shit ain’t my thing. I’ve got places to be.”

And just like that, he’s gone, the RV door banging shut behind him.

A moment later, his Ducati roars to life through the open window as he tears off into the night like the fucking coward he is.

Christian lets out a deep sigh, the first sound I've heard from him in a while. “That guy is such an asshole.”

“A hot asshole,” Arya adds. She winces when we all give her a look. “Sorry! Just sayin'.”

Huck scrubs a hand down his face before pulling Tay into a tight hug. His dark eyes meet mine once again. “Maybe Logan isn't the one here you should be pissed at.”

My lips part, a small puff of air leaving my lungs. My stomach drops so violently that I feel sick.

He's absolutely right. Logan might’ve burned down what we had, but Devon’s the one that lit the match. He sat on the truth for years, waiting until it was convenient—until it could do the most damage.

He wanted chaos, and he fucking got it.

But I'll be damned if I become another man's victim.

Taylor’s eyes widen when I storm toward him. “Salem, don’t,” he warns, but I’ve already got his keys in my hand.

Logan steps forward, reaching out an arm. “Salem⁠—”

I shoot him a glare so sharp he physically recoils.

Then I'm out the door in a heartbeat, down the rickety stairs and into the parking lot. Taylor’s yellow bike gleams under the street lights. I swing my leg over it with shaking hands as pure fury burns through my bloodstream.

Devon wants to run?

Fine.

Let’s see if he can outrun me.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

Salem

The wind howls in my ears when I gun the throttle, the RV vanishing behind me. I peel out into the night with Whore by In This Moment blasting through the helmet’s Bluetooth.

Devon's taillight blazes in the distance, a blood-red target that I zero in on like a hawk with its prey. The bike vibrates beneath me, engine purring for a joyride. But this isn't a pleasure cruise.

It's fucking war.

I lean forward and grit my teeth, trying to recall Taylor's instructions on how to ride one of these things. I haven't driven a dirt bike in years. My jaw aches, and the helmet presses into my temples. Devon’s got a head start on his crotch rocket, but this bike was built to perform. And that it does.

He thinks he can play God with people’s lives and just ride off into the fucking sunset? Not this time.

The road bends hard, and I barely ease off the throttle in time to keep from eating pavement. Gravel spits out beneath my tires as wind whips my shirt every which way.

Up ahead, Devon spots me over his shoulder. Much to my dismay, his brake lights flare when he pulls over to the side of the road, ending this chase far quicker than I like. Fucking douchebag.

He's still on his bike when I pull up behind him. I kill the engine before swinging off the two-stroke, not even caring when it hits the ground. Taylor can give me shit for it later.

“Go home, Salem,” Dev says, tugging off his gloves with his back to me.