Page 8 of Blood

“We’ll be right outside, Ms. Stewart. Please don’t remove anything from the bag. Just look and let us know if anything seems out of place.” Reed asks.

“Okay.”

I pull my gaze from the door closing behind them and scan the clear plastic bag. My skin tightens over my bones. Her phone with the stupid glittery pink case mocks me. A pack of gum lays crumpled inside, only half gone. The remaining gum will never be consumed. Harley’s beaten-up wallet that she refused to part with because it was a designer brand she found at a flea market almost five years ago has blood stained into the leather. An internal scream shatters me. A piece of material pokes out from beneath the wallet.

Swiping a hand across my nose, I flit my eyes to the door. Inhaling a deep breath, I pick up the bag to rearrange the contents. The material slips free from under the wallet.

No.

No.

No.

The room closes in on me, the pressure pushing down on my chest. I open the bag and snatch the fabric into my palm before closing the bag and stepping away from it. The material feels like a flame in my fist. My heart races. Sweat beads across my forehead. Dashing toward the door, I pull it open and dart out of it.

“Ms. Stewart.” Hope calls after me, but my legs are moving without permission. I’m down the corridor, pushing out into the night within seconds, my body heaving in fresh air. Vomit races up my throat and spills from my lips, splashing my shoes.

I hear the door open behind me and then footfalls coming up beside me. “Here,” Hope says, offering me a bottle of water.

“I need to go.” I push the bottle away and begin walking.

“Let me drive you home,” she protests.

“I’m not going home.” I take off jogging, tears fogging my vision. The moonlight slices through the space between buildings lighting a path. My heart pounds, muscles burn and scream for reprieve, but I don’t stop until I’m at the clubhouse gate.

“Bear,” I cry out to the camera, gripping the bars with desperation overwhelming me. “Let me in.” The clanking of metal alerts me to the gates opening. As soon as there’s a space big enough, I slip inside, racing toward Bear’s giant silhouette stepping into the car lot from the side door I escaped earlier.

“What is it, Rogue?” Bear asks as I launch myself into his arms and come apart. His body encompasses mine, offering me shelter from the grief tearing me to pieces. “Talk to me,” he urges, the rumble of his voice carrying through his chest, vibrating against mine.

“What’s happening?” Another voice joins us.

“Get Tyler,” Bear demands.

Sliding from his grip, I will the tears to subside so I can catch my breath. More brothers join us outside, wary eyes watching me.

“Tell us who upset you, and we’ll make them wish they were never born,” Carver growls, his knuckles turning white as he fists his hands. I look over at Tyler’s best friend and VP and shake my head.

“It’s not me,” I croak, my throat raw. How do I tell them?

Tyler pushes his way through the gathering of brothers, his chest still bare from earlier. Reaching for me, he grips my upper arms. “I’ve been fucking calling you. Why haven’t you been picking up?”

I’m surprised he didn’t come looking for me. I needed him to.

“Harley’s dead,” I state, and the sky appears to darken, the stars falling from its shelter.

Bear takes my hand, pulling me from Tyler’s grip, lines tugging down his brow. “Start from the beginning, Rogue.”

“They fucking killed her,” I snap, snatching my hand from his. I don’t want to be touched. I need…Harley alive.

“Who?” Tyler asks, his features pinched. “Who killed her?”

Digging into my pocket, I snatch up the fabric and hold it out in my palm. The rocker at the top of the patch blares up at us all, the name blazed across it freezing the blood in my veins:

KINGS OF SIN

CHAPTER3

INTO THE DARKNESS

---