Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“How did you get this?” This doesn’t feel real. My whole life, I’ve been nourished with lies.
“My dad pays big money to people in all law enforcement departments.”
“That’s why Larkin came at me off the books.” I swallow.
“Exactly.”
“What about my dad?” I look up at him desperate for answers. Truths kept from me my whole damn life.
“He was loyal to the club, a great VP. If he hadn’t been killed, maybe we would have brought them into the Kings.”
“So, who would kill him?”
He cups my neck, careful not to put pressure on my healing shoulder. “The only person who benefitted from their deaths is Tyler.”
I finch away as if he burned me. “No.” No. No. No. “He wouldn’t.” My mouth dries. It becomes hard to swallow. Anxiety and despair build inside me like dominoes waiting to fall. I dart my gaze left, then right. Wild, untamed fear, anger, and sorrow pulse through me, making my limbs feel too heavy. Everyone said the Kings did it. Bear said they did it. “Why would everyone blame you?”
Keeping his voice low, he says, “Because it stopped people from asking hard questions.”
“And your dad just let them believe that?” The color drains from my face. My fingertips feel icy cold. So does my heart.
“It didn’t matter to him. It made people think twice about starting their own clubs near our territory.”
I’m dying inside. If it’s true, I’ve been in my father’s killer’s bed this whole fucking time. I nearly walked down the aisle to him. What’s worse? My dad fucking loved Tyler. Sickness stirs my stomach, racing up my throat. I dart for the door but only make it halfway up the hall before I spew everywhere.
“Rogue.” Callan scoops my hair back and pats my back. “I’m sorry.” All the hardness so often marring his features softens. The complex, cold facade he often wears is nowhere in sight despite a couple club members watching us.
“Everything good?” one of them asks. I don’t see what Callan does, but it’s enough to make them duck their heads and keep walking.
Wiping a hand across my mouth, I pull away from him. “I need some space,” I murmur. “Please.” And then I’m running through the club, Kitty calling my name from behind me. Grabbing my car keys, I push out of the club and type out a text.
Me: Ty, I’m coming home.
CHAPTER 5
HOME?
There’s no warm feeling when I pull up at the Devil’s gate. This place contained my entire life at one time. Coming here would be the highlight of my day. Now, I feel dirty. Lies are piling up. It’s hard to know what the truth is from everything fabricated.
I can’t believe Tyler would be capable of killing his father or mine, but something isn’t adding up, and I need answers. Tyler is my history. I’ve been blindly loyal to him for so long, but no more.
The gates open, and I drive inside. Bear meets me at the door, wrapping me in his arms. His scent is familiar, overwhelming me. If Tyler is lying, has Bear been lying to me too? Who can I trust?
“You’re home,” he booms.
“I’ve missed you,” I say into his neck. Bear became my father figure after Harley and I lost our dad. He was the one who taught me how to drive and helped with filling out my college applications. Hell, he was going to walk me down the aisle. My emotions are so conflicted. It’s like I’m caught in a storm, being blown in every direction with no anchor. Callan’s your anchor.
“Is Tyler here?” I ask once he releases me.
“He went out but will be back soon. Come inside. We’ve missed you around here.” I hesitate, eyeing the door with the skull and devil horn insignia painted on it. I fear going inside now that I’m here. It’s the oddest feeling. This place should be a haven for me.
“I need to ask you something, and I want the truth.” I shove my hands into my pockets so Bear doesn’t see them shake.
“What’s this about, Rogue?” He places his meaty hands on my shoulder, and I hiss and jerk away. A crease blemishes his forehead.
“What was that? Are you injured?”
“It’s nothing,” I pant, regaining my composure. “I don’t want to speak about that. I want you to tell me about when my dad died.” I push past the lump forming in my throat. This is harder than I thought it would be. I left the Kings compound like a bat out of hell, angry and determined to get answers. Now, standing here, it’s like I’ve leaped from a cliff edge into the turbulent sea, sinking to the bottom with no way back to the surface.
“What do you mean, Rogue? Talk to me,” he encourages.
Dragging in a ragged breath, I say, “I want to know everything that happened.” The door opens, and a couple club members tip out, chuckling to each other. They still when they notice us.