chapter 2
481 Words
Ryder's gaze snapped toward the roaring engines from the end of the street.
The sound of motorcycles thundered through the empty street.
One.
Two.
Three.
Too many.
The moment Ryder realized who it was, his entire expression turned cold.
Deadly.
Without warning, his hand wrapped around Elena's wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“Inside. Now.”
My pulse jumped.
“What-?”
“I said move.”
The dangerous calm in his voice made my stomach twist.
He dragged me towards the back entrance of the bar before stopping near a narrow hallway.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“I’m not a child.”
The lie was obvious.
The motorcycles outside grew louder, echoing through the walls of the bar.
Elena's chest tightened.
The sound alone was enough to make panic crawl beneath her skin.
Whoever those men were... Ryder clearly knew them.
And judging from the dangerous look in his eyes—
That couldn't be good.
Ryder glanced toward the entrance before looking back at her again.
For a second, something dangerous flashed across his face.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, cold and sharp.
Almost possessive.
“No,” he said quietly.
Before I could argue, he stepped closer.
Too close.
“If you’re smart,” he murmured, “you’ll stay hidden and keep that pretty little head down.”
Then his jaw tightened.
“And don’t ever think about running.”
The words landed heavier than they should have.
“Why would I run?”
Something dangerous flickered across his face.
“Because if you do…” his voice lowered, terrifyingly calm, “I’ll find and hunt you down myself.”
Ryder walked away before she could answer.
Before those men outside could discover her existence.
Elena released a shaky breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
Every instinct told her to run.
But somehow…. Ryder Kane terrified her less than the men chasing her.
The bar door slammed open.
Heavy boots echoed across the wooden floor as several tattooed men entered.
The man leading them smirked the second he saw Ryder.
The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his leather jacket soaked by the rain. A long scar stretched across his jaw, disappearing beneath his beard.
The kind of man who looked born from violence.
“Well, well...” he drawled. “Look who’s still breathing here.”
Ryder let out a low chuckle before stepping forward, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?”
Face to face.
Silence filled the room.
No one dared to speak, afraid they might become the next victim.
Suddenly—
The sound of shattering glass echoed from the hallway.
“Shit.” Ryder’s expression darkened instantly.
To be continued
- Writer
