Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“So,” he murmurs, low, “what kind of sick fucker did this to you?”
Michael shoots Kael a look, but he completely ignores it, keeping his eyes on mine.
“I don’t ... I don’t know,” I croak.
“Do you remember anything?”
“It was close to last call,” I murmur. “We were celebrating. My friend Mitchell got engaged. The whole place was so bright and loud I couldn’t hear myself think.” I swallow, tasting more blood. “I left, deciding I had had enough, and so I was going to drive myself home. I was only two blocks from my car, then ...”
My lungs seize; Kael’s hand tightens. I stare at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights burn my eyes as the hazy memory flicks around in my mind. “Someone grabbed me. I didn’t see his face.” I saw something though—a sleeve, navy and rough-worn, and the hot stink of whiskey on an exhale. “I heard him say something, so I think there were two of them. They had gloves. They ... knew what they were doing. I didn’t even get a scream out before—” I point to where the pain presses against the torn shirt.
Kael doesn’t blink. “You didn’t see faces, but you remember gloves.” The way he speaks is like he’s a detective, digging around until he finds answers.
“Yeah. And a ring. Big. On the left hand.” I breathe through the pain, let my eyes drift shut for a second. “I fought. One of them punched me. I woke up to them tossing me in a ditch.”
The memory claws at my brain, and my heart skips a beat, sweat trickling over my skin as a sick feeling washes over me. My head is spinning, and I don’t know if I can stay with it a second longer.
Michael glances back at me, then Kael, then at the heart monitor. “Her BP is bottoming. We have to move.” The ambulance lurches, sirens cracking open the silence. There’s a pressure against my belly, cold, familiar. I look down and see my blood leaking out through the bandage.
I try not to think about what my insides look like right now. I try not to remember the way I dragged myself through mud, or how close I came to closing my eyes and never opening them again.
The rest of the ride goes by terrifyingly slow, as if the whole world has stopped. All I can hear in the haze of my mind is Michael barking codes and rain slamming on the roof. I squeeze Kael’s hand until my muscles flutter, until the world starts to gray out again.
I hear him speak as I close my eyes, letting the darkness take over. “Don’t let go. Even if you want to. You hear me? Hang in there, Sable.”
But it’s peaceful here.
Really damn peaceful.
VOICES WAKE ME.
They seem distant, but the more I come to, the clearer they get until I realize someone is in the room with me. Multiple someones, actually. They aren’t happy, kind voices but instead shouting ones. Men, growling in low tones, hissing curses, and as my eyes flutter open, I slowly focus on the scene before me.
Kael is a member of the Fallen Sons MC, a notorious motorcycle club known for its rough reputation and tight-knit brotherhood. The club's emblem, a fallen angel with battered wings, symbolizes their resilience and defiance. Kael, with his back turned, represents a complex figure—someone deeply entrenched in the club's world, yet perhaps carrying his own burdens and secrets. The Fallen Sons MC is recognized by everyone, a group that commands both respect and fear in equal measure, known for their loyalty to each other and their willingness to protect their own at any cost.
The part I failed to tell Kael is that I am someone's old lady.
I guess he is about to find out the hard way.
That someone is standing in the room by the door, his presence almost filling the room. Gage ‘Grim’ Reyes. My husband. President of another MC: The Blood Creed. Gage is so unlike Kael in every single way. Where Kael has a kindness that radiates from his soul, shining beyond even the cut he wears on his back, Gage does not.
He is terrifying, and yet, when he walks into a room, everyone stops in their tracks. His overwhelmingly dark personality takes your breath away. His hair, dark as the night, rolls down his back, curling slightly on the ends. His eyes are more black than brown, and his beard only adds to his mystery. He’s taller than Kael and bulkier, tattoos inching over almost every part of his body.
I don’t ever think there will be a time when I don’t look at Gage and my breath doesn’t get caught in my throat.
Our relationship is well beyond complicated, but I’ve remained loyal to him for a long time. Our paths crossed six or so years ago, and the secrets of our past kept us together. That year was the worst year of my life, until it became the best, or maybe the worst in a more beautiful way. The kind of beautiful that chews you up and spits you back out, teeth marks still fresh on your bones.