Page 9 of Nova

Sometime later,I regain consciousness, and I’m alone, no sign of the Bloodthirsty Devils. The room is silent, and yes, I’m finally alone again. Alone but not dead. Lightheaded as fuck but not dead. I’m in too much fucking pain to move a muscle, but I’m alive.

I don’t know how long I lay here, but it feels like days pass. I’m cold, so damn cold it’s like my bones are made of ice, probably from losing too much blood.

But then I smile because you know what? I’m still breathing. Hurts like a mother, but I’m still. Fucking. Breathing.

Life? Death? I don’t know which one to root for. Either way, I will need a frigging miracle to get through this. I’m not the type to believe in miracles, but here I am, barely holding on, hoping against hope.

I squeeze my eyes tight, asking God or the Devil or whoever's out there for the strength to keep going. To heal so I can get my vengeance.

They thought they broke me, but I'm too stubborn to die.

CHAPTERSIX

Nova

“Hey man, how’s Banger doing?” Coop approaches me as I lock my kickstand in place. We fist bump, a silent exchange of solidarity.

I remove my helmet with a shrug.

“Same shit, different day,” I quip, my voice light even as the truth eats at my conscience. “He’s on the mend, but the stubborn bastard’s still in dreamland.” I rush to add, “But he’s tough as nails, Coop. He’ll bounce back.” I can’t let the MC shoulder the same worry that’s chained itself to my mind. “Just needs a little more time.”

Coop claps me on the back. “I’ll tell Ace I was with you at the clinic and that’s why I’m late.” Then we step inside the clubhouse, the dim lights a relief from the blinding sun, shining like one of my brothers isn’t lying on a bed fighting for his life.

I call up a smile I don’t feel. “I’ll be your alibi.”

“Thanks, brother. Always got your back, man,” I counter, pushing the door to the sanctuary open. “So, how are your girls?”

The guy lights up like a Christmas tree. “Doing great, thanks for asking.”

“Well, well, look who finally showed the fuck up.” Dix flashes a smile as Coop and I saunter into the room and take our seats. “And you didn’t even get all pretty for me.”

“I was at the clinic,” I mumble. “Banger’s getting better, but he’s not awake yet. Any minute, so let’s get on it. I need to get back.”

My words instantly change the atmosphere in the room. Smiles fade, and everyone sobers. “That’s good to hear,” Ace grumbles before calling the meeting to order. “All right, guys, first order of business is Willow. Thanks to the hard work of Gia, Wild Man, Nova, and Olly, we know the BTD’s got her. She’s alive…for now, but we gotta move fast.”

“We have any clue where she is exactly?” That’s Dix, sitting forward as if ready to run out the door the minute he has news of her location.

“Just that she’s in one of their stash houses. Our guys—and girl—are on it.” Wild Man, looking like he’s chewing on nails, shakes his head. “No solid leads yet. Gia’s trying to connect the dots between this Gordo guy, who’s apparently watching Willow, and a real name we can track.”

“That’s good shit, Wild Man. Keep me posted.” Ace flashes a semblance of a smile, but it fades quickly. “We also need to find this Maggie.”

“What?” Shades’ outburst echoes through the sanctuary, bouncing off the walls. “Why the fuck are we looking for her?”

“Because,” Ace begins with an eerie calm, his dark gaze going around the room to land on each of us. “Willow and Maggie’s lives are tied together. If we find Maggie first, there’s a good chance we can save them both. If they find Maggie first, they’ll probably dump her body on our doorstep.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head. “How do we even know where to start looking for this chick?” What if she’s already skipped town? Based on what I heard, she’d be smart to get the fuck out of Angel Harbor and California altogether.

“Yeah,” Dix nods. “What do we know about this Maggie chick other than she runs with Devils?”

Wild Man flashes another of his shit-eating grins. “I’m glad you asked, brother. Margaret Rosalia Leon. She grew up in East L.A. with her single mother. Her father was a gangbanger or is,” he shrugs. “Currently serving life without parole for killing two rival gangbangers. She grew up rough, mostly raised on the streets while her mom worked a few jobs. No supervision.”

“Basic sob story,” Preacher adds, shaking his head.

“Margaret’s been picked up a few times for selling stolen goods and fighting, nothing major despite her LKA’s beingLas Sangrientasand then the Bloodthirsty Devils.” Wild Man shakes his head before turning back to the tablet in his hand. “Oh, and a few domestic violence calls to the house for run-ins with her stepfather. He was an abusive alcoholic, and now he’s dead.”

The sad backstory leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “Poor girl never stood a chance.”

“True,” Wild Man adds. “Anyway, we figured out her connection to Demon. They’ve known each other since grade school, so her loyalty to him means she’s not the girl next door. She’s a gangbanger just like he was.”

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