Page 112 of The Oath We Take

We slept that night, and then he left in the morning, and finally, Atom, then my father, arrived, and then…

I couldn’t call down to the bar because I couldn’t find my phone, but I found it in the purse I had…the day Rocco came to the clubhouse.

Fuck.

They know exactly where I am. They must have put a tracker on my phone.

So, I do the only thing I can. I trust myself and my love of Atom’s ranch. I trust the paths Lemmy and I have taken over the years.

I wait for the green dot to move off the door, take the gun, and run. I’m not naturally athletic, but adrenaline fires my legs forward. It’s hard to suck in air as I keep to the tree line. Panic and fear rush through me, especially when I hear the first bullet whoosh past me and hit tree bark.

I run past the fire pit where I told Atom I was going away to college in the hope he’d beg me to stay.

There is shouting behind me, but I resist looking back. It will only slow me down. Then I hear distant engines.

The stable is a truly beautiful sight when it comes into view. “Lemmy,” I shout before I even reach the door. “Lemmy.”

When I crash through it, I hear him whinny. I unbolt the stall, and climb on, bareback, no saddle or bridle.

“Go, Lemmy,” I say, ducking low, as I hold on to his mane and use my knees to guide him out of the stable.

He tosses his head around for a moment, but then settles to the task at hand. I lie low against him, feeling his strong muscles move beneath me.

“Take me to Atom,” I say. “Run, Lemmy.”

And as we bolt from the stable, it’s Atom I think of to help me stay strong.

34

ATOM

Something doesn’t feel right.

We’ve done everything we can to bolster our numbers. True to King’s word, six riders from the Wyoming Outlaws, five from Nebraska, and Jackal and Shade, the two nomads, have arrived in the last couple of hours.

And we’re readying ourselves to go find Lev Zakharov.

Thanks to Vex and his old lady, Calista, we have a handle on where he might be hiding out. Using specific software Calista’s company built, they were able to use a combination of facial recognition software and other factors to narrow down an area on the western edge of Denver.

Everything makes sense…and yet…

“You good?” Catfish asks.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” I say, checking the knife on my belt for the hundredth time.

“Understandable.” He grabs another magazine from the armory drawer and adds it to his tactical belt.

I turn to face him. “Did you think I did it? Planted that bug?”

Catfish huffs and shakes his head. “Not for a motherfucking second.”

“Why?”

Wrinkles appear in his brow. “Why what?”

“Why didn’t you believe it?”

“Dude, you care for every fucking blade of grass on Oakum Ridge Ranch. I know you wouldn’t do anything that brought trouble anywhere near it. And you feel the same way about the club, because you’re loyal through to your core.”

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