DIESEL POV
I was flying.
Not driving. Flying.
The bike roared under me as I pushed every bit of my anger straight into the throttle. No helmet. The wind whipped across my face so hard it tore tears right out of my eyes, streaming sideways before they could even fall. I didn’t wipe them. I just leaned lower and twisted the throttle harder.
How dare you, Donald.
Rolling up to my house and tearing it apart because you still think Daisy is yours? Not just her — my club, my brothers. Touching what’s mine? That’s you begging for a bullet.
I was losing my f*****g mind.
The speed blurred everything. Streetlights stretched into long white lines. My chest burned, not from the cold wind but from the fury that had been building since we rolled back into the compound and I watched that beautifu
