Chapter6
654 Words
The road out of Briar County cut through the woods like a scar, narrow and winding, the trees leaning in as if they wanted to swallow anyone foolish enough to ride it alone. Rae wasn’t foolish. She was deliberate.
The Reapers wanted her attention.
They were about to get it.
Her bike roared beneath her, the engine vibrating through her bones, the wind cold against her face. She kept her posture loose, her breathing steady, her senses open. Every sound mattered. Every shadow mattered. Every flicker of movement in the trees mattered.
She’d been hunted before.
She’d learned how to survive it.
The sun dipped lower, bleeding orange across the sky. Rae slowed as she approached the old service road — the one the Reapers used for their back‑channel runs. The asphalt was cracked, the sign rusted, bullet holes peppering the metal.
She turned onto it without hesitation.
The woods grew darker. Quieter. Too quiet.
Rae eased off the throttle.
A twig snapped behind her.
She didn’t look back.
She braked slowly, letting the bike roll to a stop in the middle of the road. The silence pressed in around her, thick and heavy. She waited.
Another snap.
Closer.
Rae swung off the bike, boots hitting the pavement with barely a sound. She didn’t reach for a weapon. She didn’t need to. Her body was a weapon now — trained, honed, ready.
A figure stepped out of the trees.
Then another.
Then a third.
Three Reapers.
Black leather. Skull patches. Smirks that said they thought they’d already won.
The tallest one stepped forward, flipping a knife between his fingers. “Evenin’, Callahan.”
Rae didn’t move. “You boys lost?”
He grinned. “We heard the princess came home. Thought we’d give you a welcome.”
Rae’s voice stayed calm. “You tied a threat to my bike. That wasn’t a welcome.”
“That?” He shrugged. “Just a little hello.”
Rae tilted her head. “Then what’s this?”
The man’s grin widened. “A goodbye.”
The other two spread out, forming a loose triangle around her. Rae didn’t turn her head. Didn’t shift her stance. She simply adjusted her breathing, grounding herself.
The leader twirled the knife once more. “Your daddy made a lot of enemies.”
Rae’s jaw tightened. “So I’ve heard.”
“He owed us,” the man said. “And now you owe us.”
Rae stepped forward, slow and controlled. “I don’t owe you anything.”
The man lunged.
He moved fast — faster than Crow, faster than most men she’d fought — but Rae had trained for speed. She sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and slammed her palm into his elbow.
The crack echoed through the trees.
The man screamed, the knife clattering to the pavement.
The second Reaper charged.
Rae pivoted, driving her knee into his stomach, then brought her elbow down across the back of his neck. He dropped like a stone.
The third hesitated.
Rae looked at him.
Just looked.
He ran.
Rae didn’t chase him.
She crouched beside the leader, who was writhing on the ground, clutching his broken arm.
“You should’ve stayed in the trees,” she said.
He spat blood. “You’re dead. You hear me? You’re dead.”
Rae leaned closer, her voice low and steady. “If your club wants me dead, they can come tell me themselves.”
The man glared up at her, hatred burning in his eyes. “You think you’re tough. You think you’re your father.”
Rae stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. “No.”
She walked back to her bike.
“I’m worse.”
She kicked the engine to life, the roar drowning out the man’s curses. As she rode off, she didn’t look back.
She didn’t need to.
The Reapers had made their move.
And Rae Callahan had answered.
- Writer
