Chapter 3 Mari’s POV

I didn't open the door. I grabbed the biggest knife I owned, which was a bread knife, and stood in my kitchen like a badly dressed action hero.

"I'm calling the police," I said through the wood.

"Go ahead." He sounded out of breath. "They'll show up in twenty minutes and be dead in twenty-five. Open up, Mari."

"How do you even know my name?"

"It's on your badge. You wore it all night."

I put the chain on and cracked the door two inches. Rook leaned against the frame with one hand pressed to his side. He looked terrible, with a gray-looking face, wet hair, and a black hoodie pulled over the bandage I'd put on him. He should have been in a hospital bed for a week. Instead, he was standing here, grinning at the bread knife in my hand.

"Nice weapon," he said. Then he stopped smiling. "You took something out of me last night. Or the doctor did. I need it back."

My hand went to my pocket before I could stop it. His eyes noticed the movement immediately, and I knew I'd messed up.

"There it is," he said softly.

"I don't have it."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I'm a great liar.” I swallowed. "You said my sister's name."

He went still instantly.

"How did you know it?" My voice cracked. "I've asked every cop in this town for three years, and none of them cared. And you open your eyes after getting shot and say it just like that. Tell me!"

"It was on the sweatshirt," he said. "On the tag inside. J. Reyes."

"You couldn't see the tag."

His jaw flexed. "I'll tell you what I can. But not here. There's a truck down the block with its lights off."

I stared at him. Then I peeked through the blinds, and my stomach sank. A black pickup was sitting at the curb, with two shapes inside.

"That's the one that was outside the hospital," I whispered.

"That's the one that shot me."

I unhooked the chain. Maybe because he was the only person in three years who had said Josie's name out loud like it still mattered.

He stepped inside and shut the door quietly. The apartment suddenly smelled like leather and rain.

"They're coming up."

"Who are they?"

"Black Pines." He turned to me. "You've heard of them, haven't you? Because you've got their initials in your pocket."

"I've heard of them." My voice shook. "My sister went to their roadhouse the night she disappeared."

"Get your shoes on," he said.

"What? I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Then you're going to meet them. Your choice."

Heavy boots hit the stairs outside. Rook grabbed my hand, and all I could think about in that moment was how his skin felt hotter than any normal person's should be.

"Go to the window now."

"I live on the third floor!"

The door exploded inward.

I screamed. A huge man with a Black Pines patch came through it, and a skinny one followed with his gun already raised. Rook shoved me behind him so hard that I hit the kitchen counter.

What happened next took about four seconds. Rook rushed toward the first man and I heard a crack that made me want to throw up. He caught the second one's wrist and bent it back, and then the gun hit the floor and skidded under my couch. The skinny man screamed. Rook threw him across the room like a bag of laundry. He hit the wall hard enough to leave a dent.

No normal person moved like that. Nobody was that strong.

"Door!" Rook roared. His voice had a rough, wild tone in it.

We rushed through the busted door and soon after, I was in the alley with my knees shaking. Rook stood beside me without a sound.

His motorcycle was parked behind the dumpster. It was black and mean-looking, with Iron Fang painted on the tank in silver.

"Get on."

"This is insane. I have a mom. I have a job. I have a plant, and it needs watering."

"Mari." He swung a leg over the bike and held out a hand. "Thirty seconds."

Above us, a window shattered. I took his hand and climbed on.

The engine roared, and we shot out of the alley like a bullet. I grabbed his waist and held on with everything I had, my face pressed into his back, the leather vest rough against my cheek. His body was a furnace, and I hated how safe I felt, because safe was the last thing I was.

I cried the whole way. It all hit me at once—the bullet, my mom, my sister, the man I'd just watched break another man's arm. I sobbed into his vest and he didn't say a word. He just reached back and pressed a hand over mine.

We stopped at a gas station twenty miles out of town. I climbed off on trembling legs and sat down on the curb because I was afraid I'd fall down otherwise.

"Sorry," I said, wiping my face. "I don't normally get chased." I laughed weakly. "Who are you? What are you?"

He crouched in front of me. Under the lights, he was handsome in a rough, worn-out kind of way, with dark hair, a short beard, and tired eyes that held a hundred things he wasn't saying.

"Declan Voss," he said. "Rook, to everybody else. I'm the Enforcer for the Iron Fang MC. Black Pines shot me because we're in their way. They saw you at that hospital, and they think you saw too much."

"Did I?"

"More than you know." He glanced at the road. "Your mom's at Cedar Court, right?"

I froze. "How do you know that?"

"I'll have someone sit outside tonight. Nobody will get near her."

"Don't you dare say anything about my mother!”

"I'm protecting her." His eyes held mine. "And you."

Before I could answer, a black truck pulled into the lot.

"Let’s move!" Rook said urgently.

Twenty minutes later we rolled up to a tall iron gate in the middle of the woods. A log building was right behind it, looking so huge and quiet, with floodlights burning on every corner. The gate rolled open on its own.

Men stood in the yard waiting. There were about ten or twelve of them, all in leather, with their arms folded. Harlan stood in front.

"Brought you a guest, Pop," Rook called out.

As I slid off the bike, the headlights swept across the yard. And that was when I saw the eyes. Every man out there had a flat silver glow in their eyes, the kind you’d see on a deer at night.

None of them blinked.