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Twenty-Two

Kian

"You're on last," Chance announced, popping his head around the doorway.

Throttle nudged his way past him, accompanied by Jenna.

Jenna gave me that motherly look as she ruffled her fingers through my hair.

"Hand me those clippers, will you?" she muttered to Throttle. "I'll take care of this."

Throttle did as his wife asked, then crouched down to look me in the eye.

"The club has your back, son. The Reaper wants a word before you step into the Cage. I want you to know that we'll be watching and waiting to step in if there's any foul play. You have my word," he promised.

Any other time, news of the Reaper wanting a word meant the exact opposite. If he sought you out, that was usually to put a bullet in your skull. Now I was interested to find out what he wanted with me. What could a nobody from the slums of Forest Hills possibly have to offer the Reaper Cartel?

The noise from the hair clippers vibrated through my skull, stripping away piece after piece of the old Kian Jones. When J
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