I did not remember the ride back to Nightfall clearly.
There were pieces of it, sharp and broken, like glass scattered across the road. The headlight tearing through the trees. The throttle vibrating beneath my palm. The taste of blood in my mouth from where I had bitten the inside of my cheek hard enough to keep myself from screaming. Jax’s voice kept replaying in my ear even though the call had ended minutes ago.
The last mile to the compound felt longer than the five years I had spent hiding there. When the ridge road opened into the valley, I first saw the lights. Too many of them. Nightfall did not waste light at night unless there was a reason. Flood lamps were on along the eastern wall, washing the yard in hard white glare. Men moved between the buildings with weapons drawn. Bikes
