Violet’s heels clicked sharply against the clubhouse’s concrete floor, her jaw set in a line that warned anyone with sense to stay out of her way.
Something was off. Everyone had been acting strange since she and Killer got back from New York—shifting conversations when she walked in, exchanging glances they thought she didn’t notice. And Haru… Haru wasn’t answering her calls.
Her father was going to give her answers, one way or another.
She was halfway down the hallway toward Chaos’s office when a tall figure stepped out from the main lounge.
The stranger wore a fresh Highway Demons kutte, the leather still stiff and new, but he carried himself like someone who’d worn colors his whole life. Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, and eyes that took in every detail in a single sweep.
“You must be
