Ella Claire:
The town hadn’t changed much.
Same cracked sidewalks winding through the neighborhoods I used to sneak out of. Same rusted water tower standing tall like a sentry watching over the messes we made in our youth. Same heat shimmering off the pavement, suffocating in the way only a Southern summer could be.
But I wasn’t the same.
I rolled down the window of my ancient Corolla as I pulled into the familiar street, letting the wind tangle through my freshly curled hair. The scent of cut grass and engine oil hit my senses like a memory I didn’t want to revisit—home. It wasn’t all warm hugs and nostalgia. It was history. Wounds. Secrets stitched together with denial and brotherly overprotection.
The Savage Saviors’ compound peeked through the treeline up ahead, just beyond our ch
