// NO ONE EXPECTS AN ANGEL TO SET THE WORLD ON FIRE. //
Riley McKenna is fresh out of rehab following her sister's brutal death, and decides to come home to her brother and the motorcycle club (MC) that raised her. But she's only back with one missi...
Angel "You are an angel. Beware of those who collect feathers." —-
"It wasn't your decision to let him go." Wolf growled at me, staring at the bloodied chair where Rage had been. The place was a mess. The stench was disgusting.
I was exhausted. The past few days I was in a cycle of sleep a few hours, grab a quick bite to eat, and come back here to fuck up Rage. He had stopped talking days ago, but I was persistent. He had screamed a lot once I used fire play, which brought me some satisfaction.
"Save it, dude. We gotta talk."
Wolf stilled, eyes wide. " 'We' as in the whole club? Or..." he looked around suspiciously. We were alone in the warehouse. "Officers?"
I blinked at him, trying to read him. "You, me, and Trace." Wolf nodded, leading the way towards the exit.
We walked through the woods to the clubhouse, everyone scattered around once we got close. It was almost night time and everyone was off from their various daytime jobs, relaxing. A few girls from the Sirens were here, too. Just another night for us. Brothers were playing pool and watching football.
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My eyes caught Trace in a chair across the room, alone, messing on his phone. I slowed, getting his attention. I gave him a look, slightly nodding at him to let him know something was up.
Wolf unlocked the church conference room, and we shut ourselves in, taking seats in our usual spots.
"I don't have a good feeling about this," Wolf muttered, taking his hat off and running his fingers through his long hair. He replaced it on his head, turning it backwards.
I shrugged, tired. He cursed at my silence. I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes tightly. My hair was tangled, untamed and sticking to my face.
Trace slipped in minutes later, closing and locking the door quietly. He moved like morning fog, eerie and deadly. He didn't bother with turning on the lights. Wolf removed his hat.
"What is it?" Trace asked, taking his spot at the head of the table.
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