Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
It was what her uncle always called her. Because she tore through your world and left chaos in her wake.
It was appropriate.
And I liked that she owned it enough to mark it on her body.
Yeah, there was no denying she was becoming my epicenter, the sun around which my world orbited.
It was something I didn't really think would happen for me.
At least I got a little privacy with it, though. None of the guys to rag on me. No Lo around giving me that 'told you so' look.
It was good to be able to explore it without any external pressure.
It was bad too, though, because there was no one to talk to about it.
"West'll go get it, won't you, West?" Remy asked, eyes glassy, smile huge.
"Get what?" I asked, having zoned out of their conversation a long time ago.
"My wallet. I left it back at The Yard."
My gaze slipped over toward the girls, drawing McCoy's attention. "We'll keep an eye on the girls," he assured me.
"Alright. Give me half an hour. Don't leave. I'll never track you down in this fucking town."
With that, I climbed out of the booth, making my way outside, glad for some fresh air, something to clear my mind with.
Or, at least, that was the plan.
As soon as I stepped onto Huck's property, though, I felt it.
Something familiar, if long-buried. Something that made the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end, that sent a strange shiver through my stomach.
Something wasn't right.
In my time here, though, I'd seen the guys scare idiot kids or drunk dudes—sometimes both—out of the yard, people stumbling in to steal shit or even just screw around. Once, he'd caught a bunch of kids playing fucking capture the flag on the grounds.
The logical side of my brain said that was most likely why I felt off, hyper-aware, why something inside me said there was something wrong.
I couldn't have anticipated the real reason.
Not until the blast sent my body flying forward, the sound of the explosion deafening me, the power of it vibrating through me as I flew through the air, landing face-forward too fast even to brace myself for the impact.
And everything went dark.
"Whoa, wait, you're okay," a soothing, but harried voice cooed at me, a hand pressing into my chest. "You're safe. You've had a pretty bad fall," she added, making my gaze shoot to her. Brown hair. Tired eyes. White coat.
Doctor.
My gaze moved around, the white tile, the beige walls, the voices, the beeping of machines.
A hospital.
It came back slowly as a migraine tore through my head, a jackhammering sound that made my stomach roll, made me want to close my eyes against the stark overhead light.
The club.
Celebrating.
Remy asking me to get his wallet.
Going back to grab it.
Feeling like something was off.
Then the explosion.
Soaring through the air.
Then nothing.
A bomb.
Someone had blown up Huck's place.
Blown it up.
"Listen, we need to take care of you," she added as I folded upward, the sudden motion making my head scream louder.
"My phone," I growled, voice sounding far away, small. So I tried again. "Where's my phone!" I realized I was shouting when she jolted, taking hasty steps backward, scared.
I couldn't imagine I looked like someone who was civilized and safe right then.
The biker cut and tattoos were bad enough, but I could smell the blood, could feel the trickle on my temple, the road burn down my cheek.
I didn't need a mirror to know it wasn't pretty. And the screaming pain in my skull suggested I likely had a concussion.
But none of that mattered right now.
I would live.
The others?
Auggie?
I didn't know.
"We haven't found your phone yet," she told me, making me think I had likely just been brought in, and hadn't been unconscious that long.
My phone.
My back pocket.
I hopped off the bed, ignoring the way my stomach heaved, reaching for the phone, pulling it out, thanking God that it was intact.
"You can't leave!" the doctor called, following me as I made my way toward the door.
"I can and I am," I corrected. I was pretty sure refusing treatment generally required signing paperwork and shit, but I didn't have time for that.
So I tore out of there, dialing Huck. Then Remy. McCoy. Che.
Lastly, Teddy.
"Yo, where are you?" Teddy called, the noise behind him suggesting they were still at the club.
Safe then.
Mostly anyway.
"Listen to me," I said, the words biting out from between my nearly locked jaw. "The Yard was just blown up."
"Hold up. What?"
"Blown up! Someone blew it up!"
"Wait, here's Huck," Teddy said, passing the phone, and I could hear him saying something about blowing up.
"Hold on," Huck barked, sounding suddenly sober as he moved through the club, the background noise getting quieter. "Did Teddy say something blew up?"
"Your business and home. The building, Huck. Someone blew it up."
"What?"
"Something felt weird when I walked up. But before I could figure it out, I was flying through the air. Woke up in the hospital."