𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 36

— Chapter 36 —
Legacy

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N O A H

The first drops of rain on the asphalt made the city streets glitter like diamonds.

I could only hear the aggressive rumbling of the engine beneath me, echoed by Marcus's dirt bike following like a shadow from behind.

Someone had already died tonight.

Street racers were out again, and this time they hadn't bothered to be subtle. Wet weather or not, they were too busy pushing the limits on their speedometers instead of worrying about the people they were putting at risk.

It made me sick.

I followed the road with my fingers tense around the handle of my motorcycle. I could see Marcus in my side mirror, scarlet helmet sticking out clearly beneath the street lights. The two of us were building speed fast. Headed straight for the city, it wasn't long before the rain had begun to blanket the two of us in a freezing downpour.

Someone was dead because I'd waited until the last second to do something.

All along, I knew that people were out racing in my streets, breaking my rules, and I didn't act fast enough. There was a reason that I'd banned racing in Boston. I figured if people were going to put me in a place of leadership—for whatever reason that was—then I'd use that position to follow in my father's footsteps. I was going to make a change.

Boston used to be overrun with biker gangs. The kind that used their motorcycles to cover up the fact that they were poisoning the city—distributing drugs, fighting in the streets, mugging and terrorizing innocent people... the list just went on and on.

My old man was a biker long before he was a father. Born and raised in Boston, he and Chief started the Stray Dogs before biker gangs were ever a problem in the city.

But my father was also a devoted soldier. He was on active duty in Iraq for nearly three years—when he finally came home to Boston, he took one look at what his hometown had turned into and was disgusted with what he saw. So he took it upon himself to fix things before he died.

It took him a decade. And it was ugly.

Now Boston was... manageable. Crime rates had collapsed in half in recent years. Violence in the streets was hardly comparable to what it was back in the day. Drugs were still prominent—as they always would be—but at least they weren't consuming the city alive anymore.

One could even call it... peaceful.

So if these street-racers thought they could come in and run wildly of their own accord, then they'd picked the wrong fucking city.

There was a helicopter following behind the street racers, and it was the helicopter I kept my eyes peeled for as I headed down the city streets in an effort to find the bikers.

By the time we'd gotten into the city, it didn't take long to spot it in the dark sky above. Nodding briefly for Marcus to follow, we cut through the traffic and weaved between vehicles fast enough to keep up with the chopper.

It was hard enough to maintain the speed that we were going—the rain was another issue entirely.

It was fucking freezing.