Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 192(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 128(@300wpm)
“Until they gave me no choice.”
I look back at Diesel. “Is that what this is? They’re gonna kill me if I don’t pay up?”
“No. Brick... he doesn’t want that to happen, Legion. He gave you the fine knowing you can’t pay so you’d—”
“Agree to be the rat with him? With you? With all of you?”
“Look,” Diesel says. “I don’t like it any more than you do. Do I wanna be a rat? Fuck, no. But do I want Mama Jo to go to prison for shit I did? Another ‘fuck no’.”
“Is that what they’re threatening, then? The families?” I picture Ratchet and June. Their little ranch. Six kids, the dog, all of it at risk.
If I had that, I guess I’d turn too.
But I don’t have that.
I got nothin’.
“Let me ask you somethin’, Diesel. And I want the truth now.” I look him in the eyes. “If I say no, you still got my back? Or was that nothin’ but words to you?”
He lets out a long breath, lookin’ over his shoulder at Brick. When he looks back at me, his words are low again. Meant only for me. “I got you.”
I press my lips together and nod. “OK. Good to know.” The sun beats down on my neck as I swing my leg over the seat. The engine roars to life beneath me, the familiar vibration traveling up my spine.
As I roll away from the garage, I scan the compound one last time.
I ride away from the clubhouse with nowhere to go and twenty-four hours to live.
Because I won’t ever be the rat.
I’m never gonna be the rat.
I’d rather die.
And if I’m gonna die, then I got business to take care of.
Almost two hours later, Rimrock Academy appears over the ridge like something from another planet. All perfect sandstone buildings and manicured lawns. Green in a state that's mostly dust and dirt. The kind of place where the grass gets watered twice a day, no matter how much it doesn't rain.
I slow the bike as I approach the gate, suddenly aware of how I must look. Three-day stubble. Leather cut with the Badlands patch. Blood still under my fingernails from Butch, even after washing my hands.
The kind of man they build places like this to keep out.
The guard booth is manned by a guy in a pressed uniform who straightens when he sees me coming. His hand drifts toward something under the counter. Not exactly subtle.
"Help you?" he asks, eyes flicking from my face to my cut to my bike and back again. The bike idles so loud, I can barely hear him.
"I'm here to see my sister. Mercy Kane." My voice is loud and rough. "She's a student."
The guard's expression doesn't change. "You're not on the approved visitor list, sir."
"I'm her brother. Her legal guardian." The lie comes easy. I was her guardian, before Cash took her.
"I'll need to see some ID."
I reach slowly for my wallet, careful to telegraph every movement. The last thing I need is to get shot by some trigger-happy rent-a-cop. My license is new, at least. Savannah pulled in some favors while I was recovering and got it renewed in the mail. Something that didn’t impress me much when she handed it over, but makes me feel the loss of her even more, here in the moment.
He takes it, studies it like it might be fake, then picks up a phone. The conversation happens without me. A low voice I can't quite make out. But he never takes his eyes off me.
The minutes stretch. One. Five. Eight. Ten. The sun beats down on my shoulders, and sweat trickles down my spine.
I keep cool. Waitin’ it out.
There’s no way I’m leaving here without seeing Mercy, and these people have to know that.
How can they cut their losses when Legion Kane shows up at the gate?
Let him in.
Finally, he hangs up and points down the drive. "Go ahead. Park at the main building and check in at the office." He hands back my license. "Visitor pass will be waiting."
"Thanks," I say.
The gates open and I ride on.
The road curves through campus, past buildings that look more like museums than classrooms. Kids in uniforms stop to stare as I pass. Their whispers follow me like a wake. The bike is too loud here, too dirty, too real among all this polish and pretend.
I find the main building easy enough. It's the biggest one, with stone columns and a clock tower. The kind of place that screams money with every brick. I park the Dyna near the entrance, swing my leg over, and stand for a moment, rolling my shoulders.
Every eye is on me. Students in their pressed uniforms. Teachers clutching books to their chests. A groundskeeper who's stopped his zero-turn mower to watch. I'm a wolf that's wandered into the sheep pen, and everyone knows it.