Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
When we finally stopped at a deserted intersection, Ghost pulled his bike to a stop. His boots scraped against asphalt as he balanced the machine with Wren still clinging to his back as he brought the bike next to the Bronco.
I turned my head, finding Wren's gaze just a few feet away from mine. Even in the harsh red glow of the traffic light, I saw the conflict and uncertainty swimming in those green depths. Anger, confusion, hurt, but also a longing so strong my heart pounded harder and I realized I might be able to salvage something with her. She didn't look away immediately, and in that moment of connection, I tried to pour every unspoken apology and promise into my gaze.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a thin line before she finally broke the stare, turning her face against Ghost's shoulder. The rejection stung, but I deserved worse.
Ghost caught the exchange, his head turning slowly until his gaze locked with mine. Without breaking eye contact, he revved his engine aggressively in a clear warning.
The light changed to green, and Ghost shot forward, putting him and Wren between us and Hotwire. We rode for another twenty minutes, the urban landscape gradually shifting from anonymous commercial zones to the industrial outskirts. I imagined I felt the shift when we crossed into what everyone recognized as Bound in Blood domain.
The compound appeared ahead, a converted warehouse complex surrounded by a high chain-link fence topped with razor wire. Security lights illuminated the perimeter, casting harsh shadows that danced as we approached.
Two prospects manned the gate. They relaxed slightly upon recognizing Ghost and Jack. Both men nodded as we passed through the gates.
The main building loomed ahead, windows glowing with light despite the late hour. Club members emerged from various doorways, drawn by the unusual arrival. Their expressions shifted from curiosity to suspicion when they spotted me, an outsider in their sanctuary.
Jack dismounted first, running a hand through his shaggy salt-and-pepper hair. His massive presence seemed to fill the courtyard, drawing eyes away from me.
Ghost killed his engine and swung off his bike in one fluid motion before turning to help Wren. His hands gripped her waist with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the rigid set of his shoulders. She slid to the ground, legs wobbling slightly, which I figured stemmed more from fright than the ride. Ghost steadied her, his protective instinct palpable even from where I stood.
Marcus nudged me and I got out of the SUV, my boots hitting gravel with a finality that resonated through my bones. This marked my first time inside the Bound in Blood compound, a place I never expected to see from the inside. Certainly not under these circumstances.
Ghost murmured something to Wren, his voice too low for me to catch. She nodded once, her expression unreadable in the harsh compound lighting. Then Ghost turned to me, his face transforming as he approached. The gentle father vanished, replaced by the vice president of Bound in Blood MC. A man who’d earned his reputation through blood and loyalty. He stopped inches from me, close enough that no one else could hear his words.
"You got five minutes to explain yourself before I put a bullet in your Goddamned head," he said, voice deadly quiet, each word precise and measured. No emotion colored his tone, making the threat all the more chilling.
I met his gaze without flinching. "Fair enough."
Ghost jerked his head toward the main building. "Inside. Now."
I followed his direction, feeling the weight of dozens of hostile stares tracking my every movement. Wren walked ahead with Jack, her shoulders set in a tense line. The emotional distance between us stretched with each step, and I wondered if I could ever bridge it again. If she would let me try once she knew the whole truth. Thankfully, Marcus followed us in. He could back up my story. Any chance I had of salvaging something with Wren came down to this moment.
The walls seemed to close in as we entered, my eyes adjusting to the dimmer lighting that revealed a space both clean and lived-in. Worn leather furniture, pool tables, and a long bar lined one wall, while club memorabilia and framed photos plastered every available surface. The place smelled like leather, motor oil, and decades of cigarette smoke ground into the very foundations. Unlike the Copperheads' deliberately intimidating aesthetic, this place felt like exactly what it claimed to be. A home for people who chose each other as family. The kind of place Wren belonged. The kind of place I never could.
"Jack!" A female voice cut through the tension, and I turned to see a petite blonde pushing through the crowd. Had to be Honey. Wren had mentioned her friend several times and I thought I remembered her at the Valentine’s Ball. She moved with purpose, her slight build belying the confidence in her stride. Her eyes flicked between Wren and me, instantly reading the situation with uncanny accuracy.