~ Harley ~
I wake up on a couch that probably costs more than my aunt’s house.
For a few seconds, my brain refuses to cooperate.
Big windows.
River outside.
Industrial-looking ceiling.
Velvet coloured looking fancy couch.
Then it hits me.
Quinn.
Some psycho biker named Malik trying to kidnap me.
I groan and drag a pillow over my face.
“Oh good,” I mumble into it.
“I didn’t hallucinate.”
Fantastic.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
My brain starts replaying everything again like it’s binge-watching a terrible life decision documentary.
Meeting Quinn.
Going to the club.
The warehouse fire.
That photo message.
Sneaking out of my aunt’s house like a delinquent.
And now I’m apparently sleeping in a syndicate boss’s loft.
I sit up slowly.
“Well Harley,” I mutte
