The place they ran to wasn’t really a safehouse. It was an old toolshed on an abandoned farm, miles from the city. Nothing but open fields, rusted machinery, and wind howling over dry, cracked ground. But it was the only place they could reach before the storm—or the cartel—caught them. Nolan killed the engine and got off his bike. His movements were calm, but only on the surface. Ashley could see it in the way his shoulders were tensed, and jaw locked. He was hanging on by a thread. Jax helped Cole off Ace’s bike while Ace paced the shed, cursing under his breath, running his hands through his hair. Everyone looked wrecked—angry, raw, exhausted. Nolan didn’t say a word. He walked inside, braced his hands on an old workbench, and stared at nothing. Rain dripped from his jacket. His chest rose and fell hard, like he c
Last Updated : 2025-11-12 Read more