lead the MC, a tale corroborated by the other three. None of them knew why the cops were moving against them the first night we attacked, but Snake speculates it was because Griff had gone silent on them. It would make sense.”
Ice and Ace are nodding along, but Tank doesn’t seem entirely convinced.
“What do you propose we do with them?” he asks as Cross pauses. “Do we just believe them and send them in their merry way?”
“More or less,” Cross says. “We’re transporting them back in a couple of hours and giving them until dawn to clear out of town. The Knights will make sure they never come back. If they do, we kill them all. That should keep your uncle happy, right, Ink?”
Ink shrugs. “My uncle’s never happy. But yeah, with Griff and his sons gone, I doubt he’s gonna press too hard for the rest of them to be killed.”
“He can do as he likes once we’re gone,” Cross says. “We’re gonna make sure the town is empty and they’re well on their way to wherever they want to go and then we’re done with this job. Are you satisfied with that, Tank?”
Tank shrugs. “I trust your judgment. You haven’t led us wrong yet.”
It’s impossible to tell if Tank’s being sincere or sarcastic, and I personally think it’s a little of both.
“Colt and Blaze, I want you in the hills overseeing the leaving,” Cross says. “Ace and Eagle, you too. Best leave now before too many of them wake up.”
We file out into the pitch darkness outside, dawn not even a hint yet. I could’ve sworn it was later, but this is better. The sooner this is done, the sooner I get to find out why Brenda’s not calling me back. That question echoing in my mind is colder than the night we ride through to tie up this job that’s given me everything but is now threatening to take it all away too.
Brenda
I swim up from the darkness, from muddy, murky waters so thick my lungs will explode if I don’t get a breath of fresh air soon. But the only thing that explodes is white-hot pain as I open my eyes and light pierces my head like two very sharp and hot knives. Long, too.
I now distinctly remember at least three such attempts to open my eyes and breathe. Each time I closed them again and sunk back to the murky, suffocating waters. This time I have a little more awareness. I keep my eyes, but I don’t drown again. I can hear the moaning of someone in a lot of pain, and a good few moments pass before I connect the sound with my own mouth, or more like chest because that’s where it’s coming from.
A door opens, a waft of hotter air entering the cool room I’m in. I’d rather not hear the loud thuds of boots on floorboards, growing louder as their owner approaches. But I recognize the sound and even the gait of the man coming towards the bed I’m lying in—the bed I used to share with him.
“Good, you’re awake, princess,” Monarch says, the bed tilting downwards on the right, making me nauseous.
I keep my eyes closed and try not to moan. Maybe he’ll figure out he’s wrong and leave again.
“Come on, open your eyes,” he coaxes. “We need to talk.”
“The light,” I croak, not immediately recognizing my voice as my own. He’s not leaving and the last thing I need is him shaking me awake. I kinda, sorta remember him trying that before now too.
The bed levels again as he gets up, and a moment later I can hear curtains being drawn. I know exactly what they look like without having to open my eyes—dark blue, thick velvet with golden trim. Gaudy and pretentious, as most things to do with Monarch are.
I open my eyes just as he comes back to hover over me. He turns on the bedside lamp, diffuse white light showing me more than I want to see. I’m lying in his pretentious, hardwood four-poster bed—the bed I hoped never to see again. The vision in my left eye is blurry, like I’m looking at the world through the water I’ve been drowning in since my head hit the pavement during my botched escape attempt. But I can see clearly through my right. Monarch has taken the time to trim his beard while I’ve been sleeping. It’s a circle of grey speckled with white around his mouth,