Arthur leaned forward on the bike, the engine roaring beneath him as he tore down the highway, the city lights growing brighter with every mile. The cold November wind whipped against his face, but he barely felt it, his focus razor-sharp. Dominic and Olivia’s scent cut through the overwhelming blend of asphalt, exhaust, and city grime, leading him like a thread through the chaos.
Amara’s urgent words replayed in his mind. “A club in the city, underground, run by Dugo. They’re in trouble.”
His grip on the handlebars tightened. He hadn’t left the property in weeks, and this was the first time he’d ever touched the bike Dominic had insisted on buying him during the move. But now wasn’t the time to second-guess. If there was even a chance Amara was right, he couldn’t waste another second.
