The engine hummed beneath me, steady and low, like a heartbeat I could trust. Unlike mine. I’d left the clubhouse without a word, just the sound of boots on gravel and the slam of the door behind me. I needed air. Space. Something that didn’t smell like blood and loyalty and the weight of everything I’d just said.
Kat knew now. All of it. Who I was. Who she was. What her family was planning.
And she looked at me like she didn’t know what to feel.
Not hate. That’s too strong. But something shifted in her—like the ground moved and she wasn’t sure where to step. Her silence wasn’t rejection, but it wasn’t trust either. It was something in between, and that’s what gutted me.
I told her the truth, and it felt like I’d handed her a storm without a map.
Her family doesn’t know she’s here. No
