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 don’t move.
Neither does Beast.
The room empties until it’s just the two of us and Frost, who lingers by the door like he’s waiting for orders he already knows he’s getting.
Beast drags a hand over his chin and finally—finally—lets his eyes drift to his father’s empty chair. Then he looks away.
“You think he knows?” Beast asks. “About Candle. About…everything.” There’s Vanguard in that last word. Electrodes. Hidden cameras. Orders whispered through speakers. I hear it even if he doesn’t say it.
“I think Viktor knows as much as he wants to know,” I say. “That’s why we’re going. Not so he can tell us the truth. So we can watch what he does when we ask.”
He huffs out a humorless sound. “You really are a vicious fuck.”
Frost clears his throat softly. “I’ll go prep,” he says. “Check the bikes. Make sure the boys know who’s staying and who’s keeping their mouths shut.” He jerks his chin once at Beast. “We’ll figure this shit out, prez.”
Beast nods, and Frost disappears.
Silence settles. Not peaceful. Just heavy.
“You good?” I ask Beast, even though I know the answer. The question’s a joke. A fucked one.
He looks at me, and for a moment, I see the kid in the Vanguard cell, back pressed to concrete, wrists raw from restraints, eyes full of venom.
“No,” he says. “I will be when I know who the fuck touched what they shouldn't have.”
My lips twitch. “That’s the spirit.”
We stand at the same time. I glance once at Candle’s folded cut, the stitched name, the empty seat.
Tomorrow we point our front wheels at Westbeach.
Two
Melissa
Embers snap toward the sky as I wrap my fingers tighter around my beer bottle, watching flames reflect off the glass while Phoebe sprawls on the sand beside me.
“Remember when we used to sneak down here in high school?” Phoebe nudges my shoulder. “You'd bring shitty Passion Pop wine you stole from your mum's stash.”
I wrinkle my nose. “We were desperate.”
Yana sits cross-legged on my other side as waves crash against the shore, a soundtrack to two decades of friendship between Phoebe and me.
“Twenty-three years.” Phoebe raises her bottle. “That's how long I've put up with your ass bringing books to every sleepover when we were kids.”
I gasp. “You loved those books. Don't pretend you didn't cry when I read you The Outsiders.”
“Stay gold, Ponyboy.” Phoebe snorts, then softens. "Ah, I love how quiet this town is at this time of night."
Westbeach. A small coastal town right on the Coromandel Peninsula in the Waikato region of New Zealand. Came running home right after I didn't graduate Medical School.
“Five years is also a long time to be friends!” Yana adds, eyes widening. “Even if I haven't seen you all since… hmmm… when was the last time the club was here?”
Yana is the international president's old lady. I've never met him personally, but he sounds scary as fuck. Figures.
She rolls onto her back, resting her hand on her stomach. “Ah, I've missed this. Missed us. We don't hang enough for the short distance away we are.”
"Four hours isn't that short." As if we all didn't keep in touch constantly on Snapchat.
“Happy birthday, bitch.” Phoebe pulls me into a sandy hug. “To new beginnings.”
I lean into her, appreciative of friends who know when to push, and know when to let silence be silent.
Phoebe's phone rings and I turn to Yana with a smile. “New beginnings for you?”
Yana sighs, drawing a pattern in the sand with her bottle. “Mmhmm. Maybe. I kind of like my life now though…”
“Jesus!” Phoebe claps, pulling us into the now. “Yana, answer the phone next time. Beast has been trying to call you. Moody bastard.”
“What now?” I deadpan, knowing it's going to have something to do with the club.
“Well, the leather assholes want us at the clubhouse.”
I roll my eyes. “Why this time? We were there last night. And the night before. And the weekend before that!”
Phoebe fluffs her long blonde hair into a high pony. “I know, but! Since the mother charter is in, maybe… some… birthday sex?”
I shrug, not needing a second. “I'm not breaking my no biker rule, but… I'll dabble.”
“Listen!” Yana clicks her fingers when she pushes up. “Stick to the no biker rule, okay! Shit. I'm still wondering when Beast is going to propose. It's like any time it comes near, he just—” she waves her hands. “Vanishes, as if time has stolen him and taken him back to some other place I don't know about.”
“I'm sorry, Yana…” I wince. Phoebe made me promise not to remind her that marriage and weddings aren't end game in the club.
Phoebe laughs, pulling us up from the sand as we start walking back to the parking lot where her Mitsubishi Evo is parked. Phoebe is still drag racing every asshole on the street. Crushing egos and all that.