Page 52 of Root

That change…

I need to run or try to.

Now.

I park the stolen borrowed motorbike on the edge of Elden street, where I live. My heart hasn’t settled since I tore out of Nikolai and Rose’s room and bolted across the property.

And it’s not the adrenaline from stealing a bike, the hotwiring of the bike parked three blocks from the giant mansion and grounds. The motorcycle didn’t belong, but honestly, I’ve got bigger things to worry about, like how disturbingly easy it was to walk out the side gate closest to the house. The lock was easy to pick. Maybe too easy.

But…

Shit.

I shoved the book back where I found it, because I’m not stupid enough to leave with something belonging to anyone from the Wilder crime family.

The first place I went was Bunny’s where Chris sat, bruised, glaring, but after a brief exchange with Rage, the bartender, I went home. As fucking ordered. I’m letting myself into the apartment when the phone buzzes.

Private number.

With shaking fingers, I answer.

“Sending you a pic of Jack, bitch,” the growl of a voice says.

My heart lurches. “Don’t hurt him.”

“Up to you.” The voice waits and I can hear music in the background, and noise. Bunny’s? “Some big muscle came in, to collect your pay and ask fucking questions. You making friends with the Wilder family?”

“No—”

“Then fucking do it. Get us everything. Get in there and get us everything. We want all the sweetest parts of this city and there are those who want more power. Power Wilder’s stopping.”

“I don’t need—”

“Sure you do, bitch. The more you know, the more you’re with us. Got it?”

Trapped air burns in my lungs. I’ve got it. They’ve got Jack, and they’ve got me. The more I know, the more I’m with them, at least in Nikolai Wilder’s eyes. In Rush’s.

They’re making me sign my own death warrant.

“You want me to go back?”

“If you want Jacky-boy. You got a week to get us something.”

The phone goes dead. I wait. No photo. There are other members I can text, but they’re going to make me wait. They’ve either beaten him or will and I can’t do a thing about it. Just fucking wait. I start to slide down the wall.

That’s when I realize I’m not alone.

Someone else is here.

Fuck.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rush

She’s halfway down the wall and my cooler than cool questions about the conversation I just overheard evaporate with the bounce of her phone off my forehead. It clatters to the floor.

“Ow! God fucking damn it, Jessie.”

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