Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50653 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
“Sorry, I’ll see what I can have canceled.” She dips her head, submissive to his treatment.
“Thanks,” I call out to her back as she hurries off. I don’t know who’s more relieved the wedding won’t go ahead: her or me.
Me.
“How are you feeling?” Tyler whispers, tightening his hold.
“Like my sister was murdered and no one cares.”
A heavy sigh heats my ear. “Babe, that’s not fair. Harley was one of us.”
Was she? It doesn’t feel that way. Has he forgotten what these bastards did to our fathers? What retribution was there then?
“Stop wearing him like a jacket. You’re not supposed to see each other until the vows.” Meredith, Tyler’s mother, scorns, coming through the main entrance with her hands full of boxes. “You look dreadful.” Her black brows shoot toward her bleach-blonde hairline.
“Mom, we need to talk.” Tyler unfurls his arms and drops a kiss on the top of my head before guiding his mother toward the kitchen.
At least Harley’s death saved me from the wedding.
I hate myself for thinking it, but the thought manifests all the same.
CHAPTER 4
ANGER
Zombie. That’s how I’d describe who I’ve been for the last two weeks. I’m exposed, skin flayed, nerves bare. This shouldn’t be the order of things. Mom’s face is etched with lines. She can’t bear to look up from her shoes. An enormous picture of Harley is framed and mounted on a stand, staring out at everyone crammed inside the church. My black dress is suffocating. The heels are too high, too fucking formal. Harley would hate this. I need to get out of here. The closed coffin covered in red flowers makes me want to retch. She’s inside there, decaying.
Kicking off my shoes, I tear the ridiculous flower Mom asked me to wear from my hair and march outside with Tyler on my heels.
“What the hell, Princess?” The heavy wooden church doors groan as they close behind us.
I bristle at his tone. “Harley would fucking hate that—and you know it.” I suck clean air into my burning lungs.
“We’re going to have a wake at the club, but this is what your mother wanted.”
I don’t care. If he’s honest with himself, neither does he.
The tall trees sway above us, the sun bleeding through the gaps and creating waves of light. Is she looking down on me, watching, waiting for us to avenge her?
“It’s been two weeks. Are you going to give the green light to make a move against the Kings?”
“Princess.” He exhales through his nose, his jaw tensing. “We’ve been over this shit. The cops don’t think there was any involvement from the Kings.”
“Since when do you believe cops?” I snap, whirling on him. Tyler hates the police, calls them corrupt. For two fucking weeks, I’ve stayed at the house, avoiding Harley’s room. I can’t go in there. I can’t rest. I can barely breathe.
The soft breeze carries the scent of dirt with it. From the hole they’ve dug for her.
“Can we not do this today?” He runs a hand through his hair. The suit he’s wearing fits like a glove, but it’s fake. This isn’t him. Me. Harley. This is none of us.
“It doesn’t matter what damn day it is. Time stopped the minute Harley’s heart did. Yes or no, Tyler?”
“No,” he barks. His shoulders pull back. His pupils dilate. “I won’t risk war because you feel guilty. Princess, think about what you’re asking.” He draws a heavy breath, pacing the cobblestone path at our feet. His words punch me in the chest, penetrating straight to my core. I do have guilt. It’s toxic, corrosive. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that a King killed her.
“Then I won’t ask,” I state, defiant.
The man before me morphs into the demon I know he is. “What the fuck does that mean?” The vein at the side of his head bulges. A flock of birds take flight from the trees sensing the danger.
“It means it’s over, Ty. I can’t do this anymore.” I cross my arms, holding his gaze. He will never let me go.
“Do what?” he drives each word out, spittle punctuating his anger. His skin appears to stretch over his bones, his posture coiled tight.
“This…” I point between our bodies. The air around us thickens. He will never let me go.
Harley’s death changed me. Woke me up. I was willing to give my life to Tyler, to marry him, to bear his kids, and to live for the Devil Skull Riders. But it’s a one-way loyalty—a one-way commitment. How fucking stupid have I been to allow this for myself?
He barks out an unamused laugh. “Don’t be stupid.” Strands of hair fall free, framing his deadly glare as he shakes his head.
“I mean it.” The urge to slap his stupid, smug face overwhelms me. But I know all too well that he would strike back.