Page 19 of Sinful

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Tell your sister hello.

My hand freezes.

For just a second, everything stops—my breathing, my heartbeat, the world itself.

Then training kicks in.

The training I learned growing up in an MC.

Never show fear. Never show weakness. Never let them see you break.

I pocket the note with the cash, turn around, and they're gone.

Door swinging shut behind them, black pickup truck pulling out of the lot.

I make it to the bathroom before my knees give out.

Cold tile, harsh fluorescent light, the smell of industrial cleaner.

I sit on the floor because standing isn't an option anymore.

Tell your sister hello.

They know. They know who I am. They know about Elfe.

Which means they probably know about Dad, about the club, about everything I've been running from.

How long have they known?

Were they the ones watching me at the race?

Was that man outside last night one of them?

My phone buzzes again, and this time I pull it out.

Twenty-three missed calls.

Fifteen from Elfe.

Six from Mom.

Two from a number I recognize as Oskar—my sister's... whatever he is to her now. Ol’ man, husband.

If Oskar's calling me, something's catastrophically wrong.

There's a text from Elfe, time-stamped ten minutes ago:

Answer your phone. NOW.

Another from five minutes ago:

It's about Dad. Please.

And one from two minutes ago:

I know you're scared. I know you ran. But I need you to call me back.

My hands shake so bad I almost drop the phone.

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