Page 68 of Turmoil's Target

As if reading my chaotic thoughts, Jolt stands abruptly. “We need to meet with Damon and Dixon. Figure out our next move before this shitstorm gets any worse.”

I nod mechanically, but inside I’m reeling.

The thought of facing our Prez and VP, admitting my failure... it makes my stomach churn with dread and shame.

I should’ve known better than to let myself fall for Seraphina.

Should’ve kept my goddamn distance.

But I was weak, selfish.

I let myself get swept up in the intoxicating rush of her presence.

And now the club is paying the price for my reckless heart.

Jolt grabs his jacket off the back of the couch and shrugs it on. “C’mon. Sooner we deal with this, the better.”

I force myself to stand on numb legs.

Each step feels like wading through wet concrete, heavy with the weight of my mistakes.

But Jolt’s right.

We need to face this head-on.

I pull out my phone with leaden fingers and shoot off a quick text to Damon and Dixon:

We got made. Need to meet ASAP.

The words glare accusingly up at me from the screen, a stark admission of my failure.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself, then shove the phone back in my pocket like it’s burned me.

Barely a minute passes before it vibrates with an incoming text.

I yank it out to see Dixon's reply:

Fuck. Get to Mariano's Tacos in Boulder City. Now.

“They want us at Mariano’s,” I relay to Jolt, my voice rough with tension. “Said to leave right now.”

Jolt gives a curt nod, already heading for the door. “Let’s roll.”

We make our way downstairs in tense silence, the only sound the thud of our boots on the concrete steps.

The Vegas heat slaps me in the face as we exit the building, but it’s nothing compared to the icy dread coiling in my gut.

I slide into the driver’s seat of the Mustang, the leather molding around me like an old friend.

Jolt climbs in beside me, slamming the door.

Neither of this are happy about this shit.

As I peel out of the parking lot, gravel spraying in our wake, Jolt breaks the heavy silence. “What the fuck happened, man? How’d she make you?”

I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, jaw clenched so hard my teeth ache.

“I don’t have a goddamn clue,” I grit out, frustration simmering under my skin. “Everything was going smooth, just like we planned. Then out of nowhere, she’s in my face saying she knows.”

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