Page 15 of Jolt's Vengeance

Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with rival MCs or club politics.

As I drift off to sleep, her face is the last thing I see.

In my dreams, we're back in that alleyway, and this time, I don't let her slip away.

CHAPTER THREE

Aggie

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my bleached blonde hair a stark contrast against the deep maroon v-neck t-shirt I've just pulled on.

It sort of matches my roots though, and I like the way it looks.

My emerald eyes, a reminder of the Scottish blood running through my veins, look back at me with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Today’s a big day.

It’s Labor Day, and the local charter is throwing a party.

It's a chance to reconnect with the world I've been trying to distance myself from since starting college.

"Ye got this, Aggie," I mutter to myself, my Scottish lilt more pronounced in the privacy of my room. "It's just a party, for Christ's sake."

But even as I say the words, I know it's more than that.

It's a step back into a life I've been trying to leave behind, a world of danger, steam, and pure thrill that's as familiar to me as breathing.

I shimmy into a pair of skin-tight jeans, admiring how they hug my curves.

The leather boots come next, their familiar weight grounding me.

As I zip them up, I can't help but think of all the times I've worn similar boots, running around the clubhouse in Montana as a wee lass.

Granted, I didn’t look nearly as hot back then when I was a teenager with cystic acne breakouts.

"Focus, ye numpty," I chide myself, shaking off the nostalgia. "Ye're not that wee girl anymore."

The leather jacket is the final piece, and as I shrug it on, I feel like I'm donning armor.

It's silly, really.

These people are practically family, even if I haven't seen most of them in years.

But there's a part of me that feels like I need protection, not from them, but from the memories and emotions that are sure to come flooding back.

I grab my phone, checking the time.

Uber should be here any minute.

As I wait, I find myself pacing, my boots clicking against the hardwood floor of the room I share with Sienna.

"It's just a party," I repeat, trying to calm my nerves. "Just a bunch of old friends and family having a good time."

But even as I say it, I know it's a lie.

Nothing is ever 'just' anything when it comes to the MC.

Every gathering, every party, every seemingly innocent event could be the prelude to something bigger, something dangerous.

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