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EMMIE
The sound of a single gunshot pierces the air and my heart jumps into my throat as I watch one of my only friends stand over the man she just took to the ground.
Pride for my girl swells in my chest, but then I look down at Joker, blood oozing from his chest.
I have no idea what he’s done, but there’s obviously a very good reason that my friend is still staring down at him with a fierce expression on her face and her gun still trained on his head.
My heart thunders in my chest as memories of the time I’ve spent with Joker in the last few weeks flicker through my mind.
I wouldn’t call him a friend, really, but he’s been nothing but nice to me since I turned up at my pop’s compound and demanded that I was allowed inside. Him and Xander being the youngest members—or prospects—of my pop’s club means we had a little more in common than with the other grumpy, old bikers.
I want to stop her, but I know I can’t. This is bigger than my opinion of the guy bleeding out on the floor. It’s beyond what I understand about the relationship between the Royal Reapers MC and the Cirillo Crime Family.
My heart thunders as reasons why Stella would have a gun pointed at Joker flicker through my mind.
Surely he wasn’t the one trying to kill her?
Surely not.
He was so sweet. Caring. The way he talked about his family, how desperately he wanted to make his dad proud of him.
Why would he want to hurt Stella?
But before I can figure any of that out, her gun fires again.
“No,” I scream, seeing the bullet hole in his head and his body fall limp against the dirty floorboards of the clubhouse.
But no one hears me. No one even turns to look at me.
Dropping my head into my hands, I squeeze my eyes closed.
That didn’t just happen. It can’t have done. I’m dreaming. I must be.
“Open your eyes,” a deep, rough, yet familiar voice says.
I don’t trust that voice, but still, it doesn’t stop me from complying.
My eyelids flicker open and suddenly, I’m not watching someone I thought I knew dying on the floor. I’m the one on the floor with a gun trained on them. Only, it’s not Stella holding the weapon, but him.
Theo Cirillo.
Son of the boss. Ruthless, devious, heartless. And the bane of my fucking life.
My entire body trembles as his dark, empty eyes narrow on me.
He’s waiting for me to fight, to beg and plead with him not to do it.
But why would I?
If he wants me dead, he’ll kill me.
And really, what do I have to live for?
“Go on, arsehole. Do it,” I taunt. “If you’re man enough.”
A loud bang forces me to sit up as my heart beats so fucking hard it makes my head spin. My body trembles, and I’m covered in a sheen of cold sweat.
“Oh my God,” I mutter to myself, dropping my head into my hands. “It was just a dream.” Just a fucking dream.
