Page 9 of Jolt's Vengeance

Her voice trails off, and I feel a familiar tightness in my chest.

Memories of screams, of shattering glass, of my mother's bruised face flash through my mind.

All because of the sick son of a bitch I used to call my father.

I shake my head, pushing them away.

"I can take care of myself," I say, my voice harder than I intended.

"Aye, that ye can," she agrees, a note of pride creeping into her tone. "Ye're a tough lass, just like yer old mum."

I soften at that, a small chuckle escaping me. "Learned from the best, didn't I?"

"If there's even a hint of trouble," I continue, "I'll go straight to the Vegas charter. I swear it."

I can almost hear the relief in my mum's sigh. "That's my girl. I know ye can handle yerself, but it does my heart good to hear ye say that."

A lump forms in my throat.

Despite the distance, despite my fierce desire for independence, her concern wraps around me like a warm blanket. "I love you, Mum," I say, my Scottish lilt more pronounced as emotion threatens to overtake me.

"I love ye too,mo chridhe," she replies, using the endearment that always makes me feel like a wee lass again. "Stay safe, and don't forget to call yer brother."

"I won't," I promise. "Bye, Mum."

As I end the call, I stand still for a moment, letting my new campus life wash over me.

I'm caught between two worlds—the fierce, protective embrace of my family and the MC, and the bright, promising future of college life.

The weight of my past, the scars from witnessing my mother's abuse, the strength I've built—it all feels both distant and achingly close.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders.

Sienna smiles at me as we continue to walk to the mixer. "That your mom?"

I nod, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. "Me mum, yep. I hadn’t talked to her in a minute, so she called to check in on me."

Sienna’s eyes get a bit darker, almost like she’s saddened. "You’re lucky to have a mom who cares so much about you, Aggie. Really lucky. But let’s get to this party and have a good time, shall we?"

CHAPTER TWO

Jolt

The horrible stench from tossed out buffet food wafts in the open clubhouse doors as I wipe down the bar for what feels like the thousandth time tonight.

Most days I love living here in Vegas, but days like today I want to scream at whoever’s opening that damn door.

I don’t know how the hell the wind manages to carry it up from the Strip all the way here, but it does.

My arm moves in automatic circles, muscle memory taking over while my mind wanders.

The clubhouse is quiet at this hour, most of the guys either passed out or off doing who-knows-what.

Just me and my thoughts and this never-ending grunt work.

I pause to crack my neck, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension.

My prospect cut feels heavy on my back, a constant reminder of my place in the pecking order.

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