The hum of motorcycles echoed from the garage, low and steady like a heartbeat. Riley wiped her hands on a rag, stepping out into the cool evening.
The Vipers had gathered, laughter and sharp voices bouncing off the concrete walls. Marcus leaned against his bike, cigarette dangling between his fingers. His eyes found Riley immediately, and she felt the weight of his stare.
“Got a minute?” he asked, flicking ash to the ground.
Riley’s gut tightened, but she nodded. “Yeah, sure.
Marcus pushed off the bike, straightening his leather jacket. “Let’s walk.
She followed him toward the back alley, the noise of the club fading behind them.
The air smelled of oil and smoke, familiar yet suffocating.
He stopped under the flickering light, turning to face her. “So, I keep hearing things.
Ril
