Divorced by the Devil Rider

CHAPTER 2 — The Ride Away

The smell of Kade’s exhaust stayed in my throat long after he’d gone. It was thick, oily, and made me want to gag. He didn't look back. Not once. He just left me standing there like I was already a ghost.

The Hellhounds were still behind me. I could hear their boots—a heavy, uneven shuffling on the grit of the sidewalk. It wasn't a cool, synchronized sound. It was messy. One of them, maybe Jax, kept scuffing his heel. Skritch-skritch. The sound made my teeth ache.

I stared at the back of Rex’s head. He was just standing there, watching the empty road where Kade had vanished. He looked confused. Not like a brooding protector, just genuinely out of the loop. Like he’d missed a memo and didn't know whether to spit or say a prayer.

"I'm leaving," I said.

My voice was too high. Shrill. It didn’t sound like me.

"Yeah," Rex muttered. He didn't even turn around. He was fumbling with a lighter, but the wind kept killing the flame. His big fingers looked clumsy, pathetic. "Go ahead. I guess."

I took a step. My shoe—the expensive ones Kade bought for our anniversary—hit a puddle of muddy water. Squelch. Great. My sock was soaked. I didn’t even care.

"I don't need you following me!" I snapped.

It was a defensive lie. Nobody was actually following me yet. I just said it because I felt small and I wanted to sound like I had something worth following. The second the words left my mouth, I felt like an i***t. Rex finally looked at me, one eyebrow raised. He looked at me like I was a weird bug he didn't want to squish yet.

I turned and started walking. Fast.

My phone wouldn't stop. It was a rhythmic, frantic buzzing in my pocket that felt like a hive of angry bees. I pulled it out. My thumb was shaking so hard I almost dropped the damn thing.

The video was everywhere. Some guy with a shaky hand had caught the whole thing. The smear of ink on the papers. Kade's stumbling. My cracking voice. The comments were scrolling so fast I couldn't read them all: weak, discarded, who is she anyway?

I locked the screen. I did it too hard, my nail clicking against the glass.

"I'm not yours anymore," I whispered to the empty air.

It sounded melodramatic. I bit my lip until I tasted copper. I wasn't anyone's. That was the real problem.

Behind me, the bikers started up. Not the roar of a chase, just the slow, awkward idle of engines. They were rolling behind me at a walking pace. It was embarrassing. They followed like vultures waiting for me to trip.

I stopped and whirled around. "Stop it! Just—go away!"

Rex was leading them. He wasn't on his bike; he was walking it, his boots dragging. He looked exhausted, like he’d rather be doing literally anything else.

"Boss didn't say to leave," Rex said. He sounded bored. Or maybe just tired of me.

"He didn't say to stay, either!" I yelled. A truck roared past right as I spoke, drowning me out. I just sounded like I was screaming at the wind.

Rex shrugged. A messy, non-committal movement. "Kade's... he's in a state, Lucia. Just walk. We're just here."

I kept going. The sidewalk was uneven. I tripped on a cracked slab of concrete, my shoulder slamming into a cold lamppost. The lamp was tilted at a weird angle and it groaned when I touched it. Everything felt broken.

My phone rang. Unknown number.

I answered. "What?"

Silence. Just heavy, wet breathing. It wasn't "sexy" breathing; it sounded like someone with a head cold. It was disgusting.

"Who is this?" I asked, my voice cracking.

The line went dead.

I looked back at Rex. He was on his phone now. He looked serious—too serious. His shoulders were up to his ears.

"Yeah," Rex said into the phone. He looked at me, then quickly looked at the ground. "Yes. I see her. She's... she's fine. Messy, but fine."

He paused. His face went gray. Not a "cool movie" gray, but the color of ash. Like he was actually about to be sick.

"Understood," Rex whispered.

He hung up and looked at the other Hellhounds. He didn't give a cool signal. He just jerked his head toward me and almost dropped his cigarette.

"Wrap her up," Rex said. His voice wasn't steady. It was jagged. "Now."

"What?" I backed away. "Rex, what did he say? Where's Kade?"

Rex didn't answer. He didn't look like a friend anymore. He looked like a man who had just been told his house was on fire. He lunged for me—not a smooth move; he actually tripped over his own kickstand and stumbled into me. His heavy leather jacket smelled like old grease and panic.

He grabbed my arm. Hard.

"The cartel didn't just hack the clinic, Lucia," Rex hissed. He was too close, his breath smelling like that cheap peppermint gum Kade always chewed. His grip tightened until I screamed, his eyes wide and bulging with pure, ugly terror. He looked like he wanted to bolt and leave me there.

He let go for a heartbeat, his hands shaking, before grabbing me again.

"They didn't just leak the pregnancy," Rex said, his voice a raw mess. "They’ve been tracking your phone since the lobby. They aren't coming to talk, Lucia. They're coming to take the heir before Kade can get back."

I looked down the street. A black SUV with tinted windows was idling at the red light. It wasn't a biker's car. It was too clean. Too quiet.

As the light turned green, the SUV didn't move toward the highway. It lurched over the curb, driving onto the sidewalk, heading straight for us.

"Kade isn't coming back for you," Rex muttered, pulling me toward the dark alley. "He’s going to the safehouse. He told us to keep you as bait while he clears the exit."

The realization hit me harder than the divorce papers. He’d left me here to die so he could save himself.