Claimed by the Mafia Biker
I pressed my face into Isla’s curls and whispered, even though he couldn’t hear, even though fire and sirens and night took everything else: “I will. I promise.”
We drove into a city that had suddenly split in two — the part where men kept each other alive, and the part where men died to remind everyone of who held power.
And somewhere behind us, beneath the stench of burned money and the scream of tires, a shadow picked up the pieces and smiled.
We weren’t out.
We had only just begun.
The night blurred past in streaks of neon and smoke, but none of it touched me. I was frozen in the back seat, Isla warm against my chest, her tiny breaths brushing my collarbone while my own felt like broken