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IRAN. PANIC CLAWEDat my throat as I flew through the doors of the grocery store, rushing outdoors and into the bitter cold. Adrenaline pumped through my body with a heavy dose of fear. I never felt the brutal onslaught of the weather and the wind that whipped across the desert.
I only knew one reality.
I’m not free. He’s still hunting.
Laughter echoed behind me as I pumped my arms and legs, desperate to flee the man who had tormented me since my sixth birthday. A stranger my mother let into our lives who preyed on her son from the day they met.
Parents were supposed to protect their children.
No one ever protected me.
My breath puffed in visible clouds as I hauled ass, leading the man chasing me to the police station. The one place I knew he wouldn’t enter. Pedophiles and traffickers didn’t like to expose their identities. Their power grew in the darkness and multiplied in secret.If I could get inside before he reached me ...
About twenty feet from the doors, I heard gunfire behind me. In less than a breath, I felt excruciating agony explode across my back. My body catapulted forward, slamming into the ground as I slid across gravel, embedding tiny rocks into my hands as they instinctually tried to brace my fall. Pain slithered across every muscle, bone, and cell until I couldn’t draw a breath into my lungs.
Was I dying?
Heather ... Wildfire, I’m sorry. I love you.
Voices shouted around me as I blinked, slowly fading from reality. I thought I heard sirens.
Would help arrive in time?
I woke with a groggy head and dry mouth. Trying to swallow, I only ended up coughing. A strange beeping sound echoed close to my head and pounded like nails into my skull. Pain flashed behind my eyelids, and I moaned, feeling the stiff, unused joints and muscles of my body.
What the fuck happened to me?
“You’re okay,” a familiar voice announced, “or you will be. I swear it.”
Macon Sturges.
My eyes opened, and I found Heather’s father at my bedside. He sat on the right, looking haggard and stressed.
“Is Heather okay?” My first thought and worry were for her, not me.
“She’s worried but safe. A lot of brothers watch over her, as you know.”
I did.
My gaze bounced around the room, noticing the hospital bed, monitors, IV stuck into my arm, and the sparse, clinical décor.
Moving proved difficult and excruciating, but I managed to adjust my position on the bed. “Where is she?”
“We’ll get to that.”
Shit. That didn’t sound good.
The door to my room opened, and two bikers walked in. Grim, the president of the Royal Bastards, and Wraith.
“We need to talk, son,” Grim began, “and I know you ain’t gonna like this conversation, but your life and Heather’s depend on the answers you give me.”
I tried to answer, but my throat was too fucking dry.
Macon took pity on me and picked up a cup of water with a straw, helping me take a few sips before setting the cup down.
“I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”
For Heather, I would tell every dark, shameful secret of my past if it meant she stayed safe and the monster who hunted me couldn’t find her.
