The cage rattled over cracked desert asphalt, and my stomach did the same thing every time I glanced out the tinted window.
Colossus rode point, his massive blacked-out Harley cutting through the dust like he owned the whole damn highway. Even from back here I could see the way his shoulders flexed under the cut — tense, alert, but every few seconds he’d glance back at the van like he needed to make sure I was still breathing.
I pressed my phone between my palms, Mom’s last text burning behind my eyes: He’s bleeding, Lena. Please. I’d powered it off, but the words stuck like grease under my nails.
Jax, the prospect driving the cage, shot me a grin in the rearview. “You good back there, wrench girl? You look like you’re plotting to rebuild the whole van with a coat hanger and spit.”
I s
