Dawn painted the desert sky blood-red as the Steel Titans rolled out. I sat in the blacked-out cage — a reinforced van with blacked windows and enough armor to survive a small war — wedged between Jax the prospect and a silent patched member whose name I still didn’t know. Colossus rode point on his newly tuned Harley, the deep growl of his pipes cutting through the morning like a warning.
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, watching the highway blur. My hands itched for tools. Sitting still felt wrong after everything last night — the gunshots, his scar, the way his massive palm had cupped my face like I was something worth protecting.
Colossus had insisted on the cage. “Not risking you on two wheels yet,” he’d growled at 5 a.m. when I tried to argue. His eyes had been stormy, the
