Chapter Twelve
Laila’s POV
The motorcycle came to a smooth, sudden stop at the edge of the busy junction, two blocks away from the alley where my family’s tavern stood. The roar of the engine died down into a low, metallic hum.
Before I could even process that we had arrived, Zane reached back, unbuckled the heavy helmet beneath my chin, and pulled it off my head with sharp, efficient movements.
“Off,” he said flatly, gesturing toward the sidewalk with his chin. “You walk from here.”
I blinked at him, holding the heavy helmet in my lap as I looked down the street toward the familiar faded sign of our bar.
“Why?” I asked, my brow furrowing as I looked from the distant building back to his sharp, unreadable profile. “Why can’t you just take me to the front of the bar? It’s right there.
