“You want to know something, Lyric?” She leans closer, and I can feel the heat of her breath. “I was the one who tipped off the Crimson Wheelers. Told ’em where the Royal Bastards would be that day.Me.”
Time stops. The words hang heavy between us, thick with treachery. It’s like a bomb has been dropped in the cab. My foot slams onto the brakes, the tires screech against the asphalt, and the world turns into a chaotic blur.
“Missy!” My voice cracks like a whip. “How could you betray the club?”
Her face is a mask of defiance, eyes alight with some wild, desperate fire. But beneath it all, I see it—the flicker of fear. She knows she’s crossed a line—one she can’t uncross.
“Missy,” I say again, ice lacing through my tone. The truck idles, a beast growling beneath us, mirroring the storm inside me. “Start talking.”
Missy’s eyes dart from me to the open road and back again. She reaches for the door handle, hesitation written all over her face for just a split second before she decides. The door swings open, and she bolts, her boots slapping against the pavement as she runs for the mouth of an alleyway.
“Dammit!” I hiss under my breath, but I don’t follow. Instead, I watch her disappear into the belly of Jacksonville, swallowed up between the buildings.
I grab my phone. My thumb hovers over it before I punch in the number. It rings. Once. Twice.
“Highway,” his voice rumbles through the speaker.
“Missy bolted,” I spit out, my words clipped. “She confessed, she told the Crimson Wheelers where to find the MC leaders at the rally.”
“Shit.” The curse is a low growl on his end of the line. There’s a pause, a breath, then, “We know. Are you safe?”
“Yeah,” I say, but there’s no relief, only the acid burn of betrayal in my veins.
“Lyric, listen…” Highway’s voice cuts through the static of my thoughts. “Head home. Lock up and wait for me.”
“Highway—” I begin, but he interrupts.
“Can’t talk now. I’ll explain everything soon.” The line clicks dead before I can protest. His words hang in the air, a command that leaves no room for argument.
I throw the phone onto the car seat with more force than necessary, my pulse thrumming with adrenaline. My grip tightens on the steering wheel,my fingers straining as I steer Winchester’s truck through the maze of streets.
My mind races with what Missy said, the betrayal stinging like a fresh wound.
“Damn you, Missy,” I mutter under my breath as I make the last turn onto my street.
The house looms ahead. I kill the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening. I’m out of the truck and at the front door in seconds, my movements swift and sure. The key turns in the lock with a click that echoes too loudly in the stillness. On the coat rack is my sister’s jacket.
“Lucy?” I call out as I step inside.
“In here,” comes the reply from the living room.
I find her curled up on the couch, a book forgotten in her lap, as she looks up at me with wide, worried eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lie smoothly, forcing a smile. “Just one of those days.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods, accepting theanswer for now. “Be careful, Lyric,” she says softly, her gaze piercing.
“Always am,” I reply with a wink, though the flutter in my chest belies my casual tone.
“Highway called,” she adds, and there’s a question in her voice that I’m not ready to answer.
“Everything’s fine. He’ll fill us in soon.”
“Okay,” she says, but the concern lingers.
I leave her there with her book and unspoken fears and head to my room. The promise of Highway’s explanations does little to ease the tension coiled tight in my muscles, but for now, there’s nothing to do but wait.
***
