Page 41 of Cold Hard Truth

His arms are crossed over his chest as he looks down at me. Beads of rain run down his leather cut. His dark hair is grayer than I remember, and his forehead is deep with wrinkles. But those same hard eyes stare back at me.

“I’ve told you, honey, you can call me Dad.”

I back up, step by step, and Kane follows me into the shop.

This can’t be happening. Even if he heard I was in town, how would he find me so fast? I swallow the lump in my throat.

Unless he’s the one who lured me out.

My father watches me, stopping when he’s inside the door, but not moving any closer. And even if I keep walking backward, I know I’m cornered unless I can make it to the back door.

Is it possible he’d leave the alley unguarded?

There’s only one way to find out.

But the moment I spin around, I run directly into a solid chest. Rock-hard muscle covered in a simple black T-shirt. And when I meet his eyes, those dark pits that locked me in purgatory years ago, summon me deeper.

“Sage.”

He tilts his head, and I don’t know if the smile inching up in the corner of his lips is sadness, fascination, or triumph. Just that it hurts to even look at him.

“Welcome home, butterfly.”

A pinprick stings my neck, and the last thing I feel are Sage’s arms wrapping around me as everything fades out.

14

Lyla

Pain is relative. Thethings that hurt the worst aren’t physical. And I’ve experienced enough to be clear on that matter. But as I blink my eyes open and take in the single bulb above my head while my dream fades out, pain I thought I’d forgotten floods back.

Concrete. Chains. Blood.

My mind is foggy as I scramble to sit, and I take in the familiar surroundings. But it’s not the basement. This place is somewhere else. A place I’ve only been when Ellie and I used to sneak around the Twisted Kings compound. And glancing up, I realize I’m seated in the middle of a horse stall.

“Good morning.” Sage’s voice filters through the white noise, and my stare snaps to a stool positioned near the gate.

He’s leaning back, with his arms crossed over his chest and a passive expression on his face. It’s been eight yearssince I’ve seen him, and every one of them hits me as I look him over. He’s older now, more muscular. His skin is littered with tattoos, and any softness in his jaw has been carved and defined. But those dark eyes of his haven’t changed a bit.

“Why am I here?”

I scoot back, panicking, until I realize I’m not chained to anything. Not that I think Sage would necessarily chain me down, but if he’s spent the last eight years working with my father, he might be capable of it.

One look and I know he’s not the same person I remember.

Sage leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know, Lyla. Why are you here?”

He’s pissed, and I’m not surprised. He asked me to trust him all those years ago, and I ran away instead. He didn’t see there was no saving me after what had happened, and I didn’t have the heart in me to explain it. There was no salvation after what those men did.

To me. To Ellie.

It wasn’t the first time someone tried to use Ellie and me against my father because of his role in the club, but it was the worst. It was enough to remind me why I swore I’d never hand my heart to a biker.

The fact that I had is a mistake I’ll never be able to rectify.

“I was passing through town. Why do you care?”

I don’t look him in the eyes. I can’t.

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