Page 4 of Ripper's Redemption

Dad always had his secrets, things he hid from me for my own protection.

This time, though, it feels like a betrayal too deep to forgive.

Ripper eyes me with a mix of concern and curiosity. “Hey, you okay over there?”

“Peachy,” I reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Just dealing with some family drama.”

Ripper takes a sip of his drink, “We all deal with family shit. What’s the deal with yours?”

I stare at the bottle of whiskey behind the bar, contemplating if I’m going to tell Ripper.

Licking my lips, I shake my head. “I don’t feel like getting into it. All I want tonight is to drink and forget my troubles.”

Ripper gives me a curt nod. “I understand that more than you realize. How about another round?”

I smirk, “That would be great. I don’t drink too often, so I guess I plan on getting a little wild tonight.”

“Then let’s make it count,” he says, signaling the bartender for two more shots. “One last round, then there’s some place I want to take you.”

I nod, and the bartender brings us both another shot of whiskey.

“To honesty,” I say, lifting my glass.

“To better days,” he counters, and we drink.

As the warmth of the whiskey spreads through me, I can’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for something real in all this chaos.

“You ready?” Ripper’s voice cuts through the haze of whiskey and regret, bringing me back to the present.

“Yeah,” I say, but then pause. “You’re not going to take me someplace in the middle of nowhere and murder me, are you?”

Ripper cracks up, “Highly doubt it,” he says without missing a beat. His eyes flicker with a mix of curiosity and something softer—something I don’t see often enough in this world. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

Ripper pays our tab and I follow him out of the bar, the cool night air calming on my skin.

We walk up to his bike, a sleek black Harley that gleams under the full moon’s light.

“Hop on,” he says, handing me one of the helmets. I strap it on and slide onto the seat behind him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist.

The engine roars to life, vibrating under me, and we speed off into the night.

The town blurs past us, replaced by the open road and the scent of pine trees.

We ride in silence, the wind and alcohol carrying away the remnants of my anger, leaving only a temporary sense of peace.

After what feels like hours but is probably just minutes, Ripper pulls off the highway and onto a narrow dirt road.

The landscape changes, becoming wilder, more untamed.

Finally, he stops in a small parking lot surrounded by tall wheat, the Pryor Mountains towering in the background.

“Here we are,” he says, dismounting and helping me off the bike. “I thought you might like to see something as beautiful as you.”

I cringe at his bad pick-up line. “Come on, Ripper, you can do better than that.” I breathe out, taking in the scene.

The full moon bathes everything in a silver glow, making the mountains look ethereal, almost magical.

The wheat sways gently in the breeze, adding to the picturesque beauty of the landscape.

---