Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I widen my eyes at her, annoyed at her dragging. “Go on…”
She clears her throat. “I just got off the phone with… Melissa.” The temperature drops, ice creeping through my chest. My vision blurs at the edges. “Her and Millie, they're in trouble, and...”
“What?” I surge forward, and she stumbles back, colliding with the closed door.
“Let me fucking finish!” she snaps at me. “They're fine! Sorry, I should have led with that.” She flinches, looking up at me apologetically.
The tension in my shoulders melts away.
“But that's not what the issue is.”
And my muscles are tight again.
“It was who took them,” she says, crossing her arms over belly.
“Someone fucking took them?” Rage so hot its blinding flares behind my lids. My hand wraps around Yana's arm, fingers pressing into the soft flesh just above her elbow. The contact grounds me because why the fuck is everything spinning out of control?
“Where is she?” Every second that passes is another second she's out there, vulnerable.
“She's at her house,” Yana says, her voice steadier now.
I blow out a breath. Holy fucking shit. Talk about fifty different emotions in less than thirty-seconds.
She straightens her spine, pulling herself together in the way she does when she knows she needs to be strong. “I'll need to go and get her.”
“No!” Both mine and Beast’s answers overlap one another. Yana flinches, her eyes darting between us like she's trying to figure out which one of us she needs to convince first.
“I'll go,” I add quickly, already calculating the fastest route to Melissa's place, but Yana is already shaking her head before the words are fully out of my mouth.
“No, you can't.” Her tone firm, resolute. “She won't come. Not with you. After everything that happened between you two...” She trails off, but we all know what she means. It wasn’t more the ending but the events that happened leading up to the ending. “I'll go and pick up her and Millie.”
“Who’s Millie?”
Beast’s question slices through the quiet, his gaze locked on Yana like she’s a puzzle missing half its pieces. His jaw tightens—just enough to show he’s shifted gears. President mode. Every twitch of her fingers, every flicker in her eyes, gets filed away.
“That's her little sister,” Yana explains, and I can see her mentally preparing herself for our reaction to what comes next.
“Fuck,” I grunt, the curse slipping past my lips before I can stop it. “There's two of them?” That's fucking terrifying. “My girls…”
Yana rolls her eyes. “Yes, but Millie is the complete opposite of Melissa. She's sweet, innocent, keeps to herself.” She pauses, seeming to weigh her next words carefully. “She's a nun.”
My head jolts back so fast I nearly give myself whiplash, and a chuckle escapes me despite everything, a short, disbelieving sound that echoes off the walls. “You can't bring a fucking nun back here, Yana.” A clubhouse is the last place on earth a woman of God should find herself in.
Beast steps in close. “I'll go with her. She's right. The way you and Melissa left things? She might change her mind. There's a reason why she called us and not Zane.”
“Oh,” I answer, my lips curving into a grim smile. “She'll be coming.”
Beast's eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. “Hella.” He jerks his chin toward the door. “I'll take the van and a couple prospects. I need you to help Ripper out with these Vixens.”
“Bring her straight here.” I need to leave before I fight my fucking president on this. “She ain't leaving my sight this time.”
The doors clap shut behind me as Ripper strolls in through the main entrance. Sunlight streams in around his massive frame, momentarily blinding me. Five leather-patched girls follow behind, their boots clicking against the concrete floor in an almost synchronized rhythm.
Leather and motor oil mix with perfume and cigarettes. These women carry themselves with MC confidence. Light from the doorway catches their hair as the atmosphere shifts.
A woman with dark hair and the kind of confidence that you can only get by being told you’re a bad bitch all your life walks through.
I lift my chin, my expression neutral but open. “Sup.”
She stops a few feet away, close enough that I catch another whiff of her perfume mixed with the leather of her cut. Her eyes lock onto mine, and there's a challenge there. Not hostile, but testing. She's sizing me up just as much as I'm her. I can respect that kind of direct approach.
“I'm Ashley,” she says, her voice smooth with just a hint of gravel that suggests too many late nights and cigarettes.
A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. “My girls call me Queen A.” She pauses, letting that sink in before tilting her head slightly. “You're Hella, right?”
She dips her head towards the bar. “Drink?”
Ripper's poor attempt at trying to hide his smug fucking smirk fails, and my eyes sharpen.