Patch pushed out his kickstand, pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. He'd been on edge over the last few days, for good reason, and caved for a smoke. He dropped Delaney off with Lucas that morning hoping she'd stay put this time. He asked Lucas to keep an eye on her, but he wasn't sure if his sister's safety was his number one priority. He loved Delaney, but he also had his head up Katy's butt. He resisted the urge to call and check on them. They weren't children, and he needed to keep his head in the game. Gabriel's house sat around the corner from where Patch parked in an abandoned lot. The house looked dead to the world, only Gabriel's bike and who he assumed was Joey's small car sat in the driveway. He hated spying on Gabriel, but he knew that Delaney was right. Gabriel was up to something and it wasn't good. Patch finished his cigarette, and waited for what seemed like forever before the front door opened and Gabriel walked out. He wore his Fallen King's vest, and held

Patch pushed out the kickstand of his bike, and took a long look at the progress made on the clubhouse. The other member's bikes lined the place where the parking lot once sat, and the members stood in the foundation of the new clubhouse. Patch pulled out a cigarette, trying his best to calm his nerves before joining them. There was an energy in the air that he didn't like, and it made him check his phone again for a text or call from Lucas or Delaney. He felt better knowing that Lucas was with her, and that Joey would be safe soon enough. Daz stood in the middle of the group of members, smiling like a lunatic, and hyping everyone up. Patch didn't know what his agenda was, but he would find out soon enough. Patch: Text me when you get to the Airbnb. He shoved his phone into his jeans pocket, and walked up the wooden stairs and onto the platform of the new clubhouse. Some of the members he hadn't seen in over a month, or since the clubhouse was burned, and he didn't feel bad ab

Delaney pulled her hair to the side and braided it down her shoulder. Patch watched from the doorway, his gaze longing on her for as long as he could before it was time to go. They'd spent the day together, with Lucas and Joey, plotting their plan for the evening. Everything about the night made Patch uncomfortable. He never knew what the next day held, but he didn't like walking into the lion's den. He knew Gabriel was in on something bad, and it involved other people, but he didn't know who those people were. They could be cold, and heartless, put a bullet in his head without a second thought. Delaney's gaze shifted to Patch's in the mirror where she fixed her hair. Something about the day felt heavy, and cold, which made his stomach tie into a knot. "What are you thinking about over there?" she asked, turning to face him. "You look lost in thought." She wore a simple T-shirt, that showed the curve of her ample breasts, and a pair of jean shorts that highlighted the womanly

"I don't know why you're freaking out right now," Lucas said, swerving onto the main highway taking them to his dad's house. "My dad is not behind this. You think he kidnapped my girlfriend, too? Come off it, Patch. That's ridiculous." Patch knew how it sounded to Lucas, how it sounded to himself. He didn't want to accuse Mr. Summers of anything. He'd taken him in on so many occasions, that he didn't want to think he'd be behind this. But Patch's gut told him to get back to Delaney. "Are you even listening?" Lucas said louder this time. Patch glanced over at him, and he looked worried—irate—but worried. Maybe worried Patch was right. "I’m listening," Patch said, shoving his fingers into his hair. "I maybe wrong, but I have a feeling." Lucas sighed heavily. "There is something that I need to tell you," he said. "What is it?" "Dad … he. Our mother didn't die in a car accident, Patch. Someone broke into our house when we were small, and … killed her. We told Delaney she died fr

The shade of white on Delaney's face grew more pale by the second. Something traveled over her features, and realization settled there. She didn't even budge when the mug shattered to pieces at her feet. "What do you mean?" Patch asked after everyone became quiet. "You remember the mug? Couldn't it have come from your house--," She shook her head. "No. I vividly remember the mug and the cabin," she said, leaning against the island, she palmed her head in confusion. "I was around eight or so. We'd gone somewhere, and after dinner I was so sleepy, I fell asleep in the backseat. Dad must have thought I was out of it, and left me in the car while it was running," she whispered, her gaze traveling some place far off. "I stumbled out of the car, and into the cabin. I'd never been there before, it was old, and smelled like grandma's house. I remember feeling thirsty, so I poured myself a glass of water with a mug from the cabinet. I grabbed that mug," she said softly. "I yelled for Dad, an