Jax
When Chloe arrived…
I watched from the upstairs window as the old Toyota Corolla rattled up to the gate. Dust kicked up around its bald tires. Grizz stood out front, arms crossed, waiting. He’d already patted the driver down—a scared kid from town who’d taken fifty bucks to make the run.
The passenger door opened, and Chloe stepped out.
She looked small. Normal. Jeans, a faded band t-shirt, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She blinked up at the floodlights, then at the men on the gate towers, then at the rows of bikes. Her face went carefully blank. Not impressed. Not scared. Just… assessing.
Smart girl. Or a good actress.
I turned from the window and headed downstairs. The hall echoed with the sound of my boots. Some of the prospects nodded as I passed, falling quiet. The
