Page 54 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

“Ready?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

I cold-start the engine, revving the throttle before cruising off onto the main drag, heading toward her home. The sun casts a golden glow on the streets.

Izzy’s grip tightens around my waist, her body against mine for stability as we weave through the early morning traffic.

“Hold tight,” I shout over the roar of the engine, not sure if she can hear me. But she responds, her hold tightening, her body pressing closer.

Something inside me unravels, knowing she trusts me enough to keep her safe. Our clubhouse is after all the safest place for her to be staying. As long as she doesn’t go wandering off without one of us.

But our world, it isn’t for her.

She’s too good, too clean for the blood and the dirt that mark our daily lives.

Maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s foolish, but as I feel her tighten her hold, as if sensing my turbulent thoughts, I make a silent vow. I’ll protect her, come what may.

“Down here,”she points to a small one-story ranch house on the outskirts of town. I cut the engine and the silence is deafening.

Izzy slid off the bike, stretching her legs, which are probably a little numb from the ride. A million different ways to stretch them flash through my mind.

I give her a half smile as she slips the helmet off her messy long hair, it tangles and webs around her features.

“I'll check the place out. Stay here," I instruct.

“Well, let me go with you,” she says. “It’s my house after all.”

She walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door.

The place is still, unbothered, except right there on the kitchen table is another piece of the marionette—a hand this time, wooden fingers poised as if frozen in a silent plea.

"Damn it," I curse under my breath as she picks it up, her expression tightening. There’s a note too, written in blocky print. She reads it out loud, "Seems you’ve made new friends, Izzy. But not all friendships last. Watch your back."

The color drains from her face. "They know I'm here with the Hellfire Riders. This is another warning, Vance. But I don’t understand. No one knows I’ve been staying with you.”

I take the note from her, the paper feeling like it weighs a ton. "Or a threat," I correct grimly. "Whoever this Puppeteer is, they're not just playing games. They're moving pieces into place."

She looks up at me, her blue eyes sharp with a fear she was trying hard not to show, but it’s there and it’s building.

“He was in my house, Vance,” she whispers, blinking as her eyes frantically look around.

“Fucking Christ,” I mutter. “Alright. Let’s check it out. Stay close to me.”

We move through the rest of the house but whoever this sick fuck is, they’re long gone, but the threat remains in the air like a stale odor.

Izzy collapses on her couch, her hands shaking in her lap, so I sit down beside her, my large frame dwarfing her.

“They’re just trying to rattle you, okay? You’re going to be safe.” Instinctively, I pull her against me tight. “There’s a reason they’ve been coming to an empty house.

She’s trembling in my arms and with each shudder her body makes against mine, it fuels the darker half of me. Rage. Fury. Murderous intent boils beneath the surface, if anyone dares to lay a finger on her I’d ruin them.

God. How the hell did she end up in this fucking mess?The question continuously turns in my mind.

“How can you be so sure about that?”

“Because I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I reassure her. “Izzy.” I run my hand up and down her spine in a soothing gesture. “You’re going to stay with us, oaky?”

“God. This whole thing’s crazy,” she whispers. “I just—I’m so worried about Laina.”

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