Page 47 of Rage

The room erupts, a cacophony of anger and fear.I catch snippets.

“…track the bastard down…”

“…sweep every warehouse in the county…”

“…call in every favor we’ve got…”

My head pounds.The walls close in.I can’t breathe.

“I need air,” I gasp, pushing past Mason.

I stumble out of the room, down the hallway.My bare feet slap against cold wood.The front door looms ahead, a beacon of escape.

Fresh air hits me like a slap.I gulp it down, hands braced on my knees.The gravel of the parking lot bites into my skin.

Footsteps crunch behind me.Mason’s presence, solid and warm, at my back.

“Meadow.”His voice is softer now, gentler.“Look at me.”

I straighten, turning to face him.His eyes, dark with worry, search mine.

“We will find her,” he says, each word deliberate.“And we will end this.But I need you to trust me.Can you do that?”

I want to scream, to rage about the unfairness of it all.But looking into Mason’s eyes, I see the determination there.The promise.

I nod, once.“Okay.”

He pulls me to him, crushing me against his chest.I breathe him in and for a moment, I let myself believe everything will be okay.

My dad walks out of the clubhouse and I tear myself out of Mason’s arms and into my dad’s.

My dad’s arms wrap around me, solid and familiar.For a moment, I’m a little girl again, safe in his embrace.The scent of leather and motor oil envelops me, a comforting reminder of home.

“I’ve got you, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion.“We’re gonna fix this.”

I cling to him, my fingers digging into the worn leather of his cut.Tears burn behind my closed eyelids, but I refuse to let them fall.I’ve cried enough.

“How?”The word comes out small and broken.“How do we fix this, Dad?Sarah’s in danger because of me.Because I?—”

“No.”Dad pulls back, his calloused hands cupping my face.His eyes, so like my own, blaze with fierce determination.“This is not your fault, Meadow.You hear me?That psycho is the only one to blame here.”

I nod, not trusting my voice.Dad’s thumb brushes away a tear I didn’t realize had escaped.

“We’ve got the whole club working on this,” he continues.“Devil Souls and Grim Sinners—we’re all in.We’ll find Sarah and make that bastard pay.”

The steel in his voice should be comforting.Instead, it sends a chill down my spine.Because I know what “make him pay” means in their world.More violence.More blood.

“Dad, I—” I start, but the words die in my throat as Mason steps closer.

“We need to get her inside,” he says, his voice low and urgent.“It’s not safe out here.”

Dad nods, his arm tightening around my shoulders.“Come on, sweetheart.Let’s go back in.”

As we turn toward the clubhouse, I catch sight of a figure lurking at the edge of the parking lot.My heart leaps into my throat.

“Mason,” I whisper, grabbing his arm.“Over there.”

His head snaps up, eyes narrowing as he scans the area.In an instant, he’s in front of me, shielding me with his body.

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