ASH's POV
Cordelia barely had time to put her shoes on before I had her wrist in my grip, hauling her out the apartment door. She didn’t fight me. Didn’t beg. She just followed, quiet and pale, like she knew exactly where this road led.
The ride to the compound was silent. She sat stiff on the back of my bike, arms around my waist but no weight pressed against me like before. Just dead air between us. My jaw locked tighter with every mile.
By the time we rolled into the lot, the guys were already hanging around—smoke curling in the air, engines being worked on, bottles clinking. Heads turned the second they saw us.
And when I yanked Cordelia off the bike and marched her inside by the arm, silence fell like a bomb.
“What the f**k, Ash?” It was RT who spoke first, straightening up from
