The truck was quiet. Not the peaceful kind of quiet either. It was the heavy kind. The kind that made every little sound feel too loud. Rusty drove with both hands tight on the steering wheel, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds like he expected a line of motorcycles to appear behind us.
Lacy sat beside me in the back seat, one arm wrapped around my shoulders like she thought I might bolt out the door if she let go. Maybe she wasn't wrong. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I pressed them between my knees, trying to hide it, but Lacy noticed anyway. She always noticed everything.
"Breathe, honey," she said softly.
I nodded, even though breathing felt impossible. Outside the window, the road stretched dark and empty. The diner lights disappeared behind us, swallowed by the night.
I had three years. Three years of building something small and quiet and safe. And in five seconds it had all shattered. Rusty cleared his throat.
"You wanna tell us what the hell that was back there?"
I stared out the window. My reflection stared back at me, pale, wide-eyed, a stranger wearing my face.
"He is new, remember, he doesn't know." Lacy reminded me.
"I thought they were dead," I whispered. "For failing to kill me."
Rusty glanced at me in the mirror.
"Who?"
My throat tightened.
"The men who attacked me."
The truck fell silent again. Lacy's arm tightened around me.
"You never told us who did that," she said gently.
I swallowed hard. Because I had never said their names out loud. I never could at least not for three years.
"They're part of a motorcycle club," I said.
Rusty let out a quiet curse under his breath. "Figures."
I shook my head quickly.
"No," I said. "Not just any club."
My voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"Their club."
Rusty frowned. "Those guys from the diner?"
I nodded. Lacy shifted beside me.
"But they looked confused," she said carefully. "Like they didn't know what you were talking about."
Of course they did. That's what monsters did. They pretended.
"They know," I said, my voice shaking.
"They sent them."
Rusty didn't argue. But I saw the doubt in his eyes in the rearview mirror. That doubt twisted something painful in my chest.
"You didn't see what they did," I whispered.
The truck rolled to a stop in front of my apartment building. Calling it an apartment was generous. It was a cheap, run-down complex with flickering lights and cracked sidewalks, but it was mine. It was safe, or at least it had been. Rusty killed the engine but didn't move.
"Are you sure you're okay staying here tonight?" he asked.
Lacy snorted. "She's not staying here alone."
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
Neither of them believed me. Lacy grabbed my hand before I could open the door.
"Eden," she said softly. I looked at her. Her green eyes were steady.
"We've known you for three years," she said. "You're family. You don't have to carry this alone."
My chest tightened. This is my new family. That word still felt fragile. It still felt dangerous. Because the last time I trusted family…
Everything burned.
"I just need some sleep," I said quietly.
Rusty finally opened his door.
"Too bad," he muttered. "Because we're coming up anyway."
Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped me. Rusty grabbed the bat from the floor of the truck. Lacy squeezed my hand. And together we walked toward the apartment building. I climbed the stairs, a horrible thought crept into my mind.
If Cash and Click had found me…
Then someone else might too.
And if the men who attacked me learned I was still alive…
They might come back to finish what they started.