Page 63 of Property of Thrasher
Melody’s fingers dug into me. “BJ is Byrum Jr,” she whispered. I covered her hand with mine. “It tracks,” I stated. “you know what to do.”
DK blew out a breath through his nose, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “Hit and run with critical injuries. We got witnesses, phones out the ass, traffic cams. Cops’ll have it in an hour anyway.”
“They already talked to you?” I questioned
He grimaced. “Uniforms came through for statements. I told ’em what they needed to hear and not more. We’re the victims here, and we’re gonna act like it. But—” he leaned in, voice low, “if these boys are out-of-towners with a line on our people, I don’t love cops making the first contact while we sit on our hands.”
I looked down at Melody. Her eyes were on me, wet and blazing. She was terrified, yes, and guilt-ridden in that way survivors get—like she’d failed Lyric by breathing—but there was steel under it. She’d come from a place that tried to crush her, and it hadn’t worked. Not all the way.
“BJ’s dad,” she said faintly. “He’s dangerous, Thrasher. He… he owns the property a lot of the families work. Has pull. If the truck’s in his name, he’ll make them disappear.”
“Not from me,” I said. I didn’t raise my voice, didn’t have to. She felt the promise. “Not from us.”
Tires on gravel. A girl’s scream cut off. Tiny’s body hitting the road. The images played behind my eyes like a loop, and every time the truck ran the red the anger inside me got cleaner, sharper, easier to use.
Sweeper came in with Widower on his heels. Both men had that feral look they got when fight energy had nowhere to go.
“You tailed ’em,” I expressed what was actually known. “Where’d they land?”
“Pulled off backroads toward the state line,” Sweeper shared. “Lost ’em for a mile where the pines get thick. Hoped they’d ditch the truck we saw, but we found fresh ruts cut across an easement the county maintains. Gate lock was busted. We didn’t push it. Not with just two.”
“Right call.” I glanced at Melody. “Anything around here those names would know? Any friends, family, land?”
She blinked, mind clicking through maps I couldn’t see. “If they came all this way, it’s not random. But I don’t know who they would contact.”
When they backed off, I felt Melody sag against me like the adrenaline keeping her spine straight had finally burned off.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words breaking. “I should’ve seen—should’ve said something sooner—I—I thought they were behind us.”
“Stop.” I put two fingers under her chin and made her look at me. “You got knocked off a moving bike and watched your family bleed. You don’t owe anyone perfect recall on top of that.” I softened my thumb along the line of her jaw. “You told me. That’s enough.”
Her lip trembled. “They meant to do it.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yeah.”
“How did they find us?”
I could’ve lied. I could’ve said coincidence, wrong place, wrong time, men who didn’t know what they were doing. But she’d been fed lies all her life by men who loved control more than truth. I wouldn’t be one of them.
“Because you got out,” I said. “Because people who live scared hate proof that chains can break. Because you wouldn’t crawl back on command. And from what Guru has gathered and text me about an hour ago, they hacked some traffic cams, toll booths, and shit on the car that y’all drove in. Guess it was registered to Lyric’s ex.”
Her eyes closed like the weight of that landed. A tear slid sideways across her temple and into her hairline. I caught it with my knuckle.
“Listen to me,” I said, and my voice dropped. “You’re mine. That means you don’t walk through this alone. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not when they try to crawl out from under whatever rock they duck under.” I leaned in, so close she could feel the truth of it in my breath. “And if you’re thinking they can touch you again without consequence, stop. Right here. That ends now.”
Her inhale shuddered. She nodded, a small, decisive movement that sent something unclench in my chest.
A uniform drifted our way, notepad ready. He had the wary look of a man stepping into a den of lions with a steak around his neck. Behind him, Pinky lifted his palm like: easy. I squared my shoulders.
“Sir,” the cop said, eyes flicking to my cut and back up to my face. “Ma’am. I’m taking statements from parties involved in the motorcycle incident on Route 17. It’s my understanding, you two were transported from the scene and were impacted by the collision.”
“Had to lay the bike down not to run into the backend of the truck,” I explained. “Got some road rash. We had the green light, that’s all I remember.”
“Did either of you get a look at the driver?”
I felt Melody tense. I put a hand at her back and kept my focus on the cop. “Just remember the green light, officer.”
He nodded, scribbling. “Dammit, Flores, I know the Kings don’t like to share information with with cops. But this shit, we’re on your side, man. Let us help you. Tell your boys to loop us in on what they get and we can give you the same respect.”
