Chapter 11. Midnight Confessions

Tall. Leather vest catching faint light. A helmet in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he drawled.

Her stomach dropped. She recognized the grin even in the dim: the rider from the attack at school, visor lifted just enough for her to see his teeth.

The one who’d said, “Orders say we take her alive.”

Her chest locked. Every instinct screamed to run. But her feet rooted to the gravel.

“You said you had the truth,” she forced out.

His expression loosened, smoke curling from his lips. “I do. Depends on how bad you want it.”

Her pulse thundered. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” He flicked ash to the ground. “Already got my orders. But I figured you deserved to hear it first.”

Cold crept up her spine. “Orders?”

He took a drag, exhaled slow. His eyes gleamed under the moonlight. “Your old man didn’t die in some accident. He burned because someone lit the match. And the Wolves made sure no