Page 26 of Tater
“Not here,” she muttered.
“Out!” Eagle barked. “Everybody out! Cops’ll be on us in three!”
They moved.
Ren backed toward the door, keeping her eyes on the fallen Hades Hellhounds. The back hallway door swung a little, still settling where the traitors had slipped out. Her leg throbbed with every step. The bandages under her hoodie felt too tight.
Tater grabbed her wrist, dragging Ren into the cool night air.
Gravel crunched as men scrambled for bikes. Engines fired, one after another. The lot filled with light and noise.
Ren swung a leg over hers; teeth gritted against the pain. The dragon pushed strength into her muscles, holding her upright.
“What happened to ‘no hero shit’?” Tater shouted over the engines.
“I followed orders,” she yelled back. “I stayed on my feet.”
“Debatable!”
They tore out of the lot as the first siren wailed closer, blue-red glow starting to stain the sky behind them.
As they hit the highway, the dragon finally settled, sated for now. But her mind didn’t.
She kept seeing those men by the hallway. The they stood. The way they slipped out the back while everyone else was bleeding. The way their scent nagged at her—familiar in all the worst ways.
Not just a traitor.
A patched one.
CHAPTER 11
The Back Door
“Shadow was there,”the dragon whispered. “The one who opened the gate.”
“We’ll find him,” Ren whispered back.
The wind took the words, carried them into the dark ahead.
They rode for miles. No headlights, no talking. Just the roar of engines and the ghosts chasing their taillights.
By the time they hit the ridge outside town, the others started peeling off—small groups vanishing into backroads and shadows. Eagle gave the hand signal, split formation, standard protocol. Ren stayed tight behind Tater. Her leg was screaming now, every heartbeat a pulse of white fire under her skin.
They didn’t stop until they reached the overlook—the one above the quarry, where the club used to meet when things got bad enough that walls couldn’t hold it.
Tater killed his engine first. The sudden silence hit harder than the wind. Gravel popped under his boots when he swung off and turned to me. The glow from the distant town barely touched his face, just enough to catch the sharpness in his eyes.
“Let me see it,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
His voice carried that low, dangerous calm—the kind that said argue and you’ll regret it. Ren sighed and slid off the bike, leg wobbling. When she pulled her hoodie up, his jaw tightened. The bandages were soaked halfway through, blood dark against her side.
“Ren—”
“I said I’m fine.”
