ASHES & PAIN
Chapter 8
HURT
People started to move.
Not all at once.
Small shifts.
Men stepping back.
Turning.
Breaking off in pairs or groups.
Low voices starting up again, nothing carrying far.
Kait didn’t join them.
Didn’t look for anyone.
Her eyes moved across the ground and caught on him.
Lane.
Already stepping away.
Not waiting.
Heading toward the creek.
Kait watched him for a second.
Long enough to decide.
She knew he was going to visit Overkill.
Then she moved.
No one stopped her.
No one called her back.
Boots cutting across the dirt, past the edge of the gathered men, past the bikes, toward the line where the ranch opened up again.
Lane didn’t turn.
Didn’t slow.
Kait closed the distance anyway.
The noise of the others faded behind them.
Until it was just the two of them.
And the space between.
Kait caught up to him before he made it past the trees.
“Lane.”
He didn’t answer. He turned. Jaw tight, something dark sitting behind his eyes.
He looked at her from head to toe then started walking back towards the gate.
“Wait.”
That made him stop.
He turned.
Her eyes dropped to his bandaged hand.
“What happened to your hand?”
Lane let out a short, humorless breath.
“My hand?”
“You hurt yourself. How did—”
Then it came out of him, sharp.
“So you’re marrying him.”
Kait blinked, thrown completely off.
“What?” she said, shaking her head.
Lane’s stare didn’t move off her.
“He told me himself,” he said, quieter now, but worse. “He said he was gonna propose. So you said yes?”
Kait frowned, confused.
“I don’t know what—”
“I saw the picture,” Lane added, like that sealed it.
“What picture?”
He glanced up toward the creek.
Then back at her.
“You, him, and Kyle… all smiles.”
Kait’s expression shifted, something breaking through before she could stop it.
“No. That’s… Loraine just took a picture. It was—”
He shook his head once, like he didn’t want to hear it.
“I don’t give a shit,” he said, already stepping back.
She moved toward him anyway.
He turned and started toward his bike.
“Lane, please,” she said, going after him.
He stopped and turned back just enough to look at her over his shoulder.
“I got nothing to say to you, Lokken.”
“No. This is all wrong.”
“Yeah. It sure fucking is.”
Kait stepped closer, careful now.
“Please wait… Lane?”
He stopped and turned.
“For what? We have nothing more to say. You chose him. You were always supposed to be with him anyway, right?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I just— I didn’t want him to hurt himself. I put him in that hospital bed.”
“Right. And that’s also why you’re fucking him again.”
Lane held her there with his eyes for a second longer.
Searching.
Not for truth.
For confirmation.
“Oh, and you haven’t been fucking your favorite snakehole since she moved up there?”
He lifted an eyebrow and let out a dry laugh.
“Yeah,” he said. “Alright.”
He turned again.
“Wish y’all the best.”
“Fuck you.”
That stopped him.
He turned back and closed the distance fast.
“No, Kait,” he said through his teeth. “Fuck you.”
His finger came up, not touching her, but close enough.
“Do not come near me again. Do not talk to me, do not look at me. If you see me, you walk the other way. You understand me?”
His chest started rising faster now, like everything was stacking too fast to hold down.
Kait smirked.
“You ain’t gotta worry about a thing.”
“Good.”
Lane held on for a second longer.
Like he was making sure.
Then he dropped his hand, turned, and walked the rest of the way up the hill.
She watched him go, but didn’t follow this time.
CHAPEL - LATER
Kait sat where she always did.
Hands on the table.
Still.
Didn’t look around.
Didn’t look for anyone.
Kolton took the seat beside her.
Close.
Familiar.
She didn’t react.
Huntsville stood behind them, along the wall.
Lane near the center.
Arms loose at his sides.
Not stiff.
Not relaxed either.
Just there.
Watching.
“We’re not letting this sit,” Don said.
No speech.
No buildup.
Just fact.
A few nods.
Blaze leaned forward, forearms on his knees.
“Crossaiders got eyes out,” he said. “Nothing solid yet.”
Don’s gaze shifted.
“Kode.”
Kode flipped a page in his notebook before looking up.
“Got nothing other than rumors from the locals. They’re ghosts,” he said. “Sicarios like these look like everybody else and can blend in anywhere so we got out work cut out for us.”
Don’s eyes moved to Kait.
“Anything?”
Kait looked around.
“We’ve been running the same angles all week. Nothing sticking. No chatter worth shit.”
Flat.
Immediate.
Done.
Don nodded. Then moved on.
“Huntsville can stay. Help with surveillance, bodies and firepower,” said Lane from the wall.
The room shifted just enough to acknowledge it.
Don looked at him.
“Appreciate it. But for now, Huntsville can just handle north.”
Lane nodded.
“Will do.”
“We’ll call you up when we’re ready to move in on those motherfuckers.”
Don stood.
“Now. Let’s go celebrate our brother.”
The chapel door opened and the noise followed them out, not loud at first, but building as it spilled into the courtyard.
Cool air rolled through, carrying the smell of smoke, beer, and barbecue. Someone dragged a cooler across the concrete and popped the lid open.
Caps snapped off one after another.
Blaze crouched by the firepit and lit it, the flame catching slow before climbing higher, throwing shifting shadows across the walls, across kuttes, across faces that weren’t smiling but weren’t quiet either.
Kait stepped into the courtyard with the rest of them and didn’t pause. She grabbed a beer off the nearest case, twisted it open, and took a long pull without tasting it.
Kolton was at her side a second later.
“You good?”
She nodded, still not looking at him, and took another drink, faster this time.
Across the courtyard, near the garage, Lane leaned back against the wall with Trace beside him, Koa and Konway a few feet off. They were talking, but not laughing, not relaxed, just holding space like without needing to prove anything.
Lane had a bottle in his hand.
He hadn’t touched it.
Kait’s eyes found him without meaning to. She held the look a second too long before she realized it.
He felt it.
Looked up.
Their eyes met.
And just as quickly, he looked away.
Not sharp. Not angry. Indifferent.
Like she didn’t matter enough to hold his attention.
Kait scoffed and took another drink, longer this time, the burn finally registered as she swallowed it down. When she set the bottle on the table, it hit harder than it needed to.
Kolton said something beside her, but she didn’t catch it.
Didn’t care.
Kolton leaned closer.
“You wanna go inside?”
She shook her head, already stepping away from him.
“No.”
She drank again, faster, like she was trying to get somewhere with it.
Her eyes moved across the courtyard once more, but it didn’t matter whether she found him or not.
The result was the same.
Nothing.
She set the bottle down before finishing it.
“Where you going?” Kolton asked.
“Bathroom.”
She lied and headed to the parking lot instead.
loyola beach
Kait rode for a couple of hours, then headed to the beach.
She was now standing there, looking out at the dark water, listening to the waves roll in and out.
She reached into her kutte, pulled out her pack of Marlboros, and slipped a cigarette between her lips. She lit it, took a long drag, and exhaled slowly.
The day kept flashing in her mind.
Buster.
The way they’d carried him. The dirt. The shots in the air.
Rokkstar.
She’d been through this before, and it didn’t seem to get any fucking easier.
She took another drag, staring out at the water.
Then there was Lane.
Do not come near me again.
She shook her head.
“Fucking asshole…”
She couldn’t believe he’d said that to her. After everything they’d been through, he was ready to throw it all away over something that hadn’t even happened.
“Marry Kolton…” she muttered, still arguing with him in her head. “I didn’t even fucking—”
She stopped and took another drag.
What pissed her off most was that he’d already made up his mind. He hadn’t given her a chance to explain anything, and she’d been too angry to get a word in without throwing something back at him.
She sat down in the sand, resting her elbows on her knees.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. But underneath all that anger was the same hurt she’d been trying to ignore since he’d left for Huntsville.
Her eyes began to sting.
“Fuck…”
She wiped her face with her sleeve and took another drag, trying to pull herself together.
It didn’t work.
She lowered her head as the tears came, still holding the cigarette between her fingers.
She was so fucking tired of missing him.
And she hated that even after everything he’d said, she still wished he were there.
She stayed in the sand, smoking and crying quietly, with nothing but the sound of the waves around her.
Minutes later, a headlight cut across the far edge of the beach.
Murphy rolled through at a steady pace, not fast, not slow, just moving along the stretch like he had a hundred times before.
He wasn’t looking for anything.
Just riding through.
Then the beam caught chrome.
A bike.
Parked too clean.
Too familiar.
He eased off the throttle without thinking, letting the engine drop lower as he passed it once, eyes flicking over it in the dark.
He knew that bike.
Of course he did.
Murphy didn’t stop. He rode a little farther down, cutting the engine a short distance away where the sand met the road again.
Quiet.
He sat there for a second, looking back toward it, making sure.
No other bikes.
No headlights coming in behind.
No movement around it.
Just that one.
A slow grin pulled at his mouth.
“Well, I’ll be fucked…”
He kicked the bike back to life and rolled out, heading back toward the main road. A mile up, a dim light from a payphone sat off the shoulder near an old gas station.
He pulled up beside it, killed the engine, and swung off.
The receiver hung heavy in his hand as he dropped a coin in and dialed from memory.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then picked up.
“Yeah,” Murphy said, glancing back toward the dark stretch behind him. “You might wanna get down here.”
A beat.
“That snake bitch is out at Loyola. By herself.”
He leaned his shoulder against the side of the booth, listening.
“Yeah,” he added, quieter now. “Just her.”
He laughed.
“I’ll be here.”
He hung up, stepping back out into the night, eyes drifting back toward the road that led to the beach.
Lit up a cigarette as he laughed quietly and waited.
The courtyard had settled into something looser, louder than before, but not wild.
Lakini’s Juice carried across the Nest, bottles stacking up along the tables, voices overlapping in half-told stories and repeated ones that didn’t need finishing.
Kolton leaned back against the edge of the bar, scanning the courtyard without really meaning to.
Kait was nowhere.
He pushed off the bar and moved through the space, not rushed, just checking.
Blaze.
Kriket.
Kode.
A couple of the others.
“Hey, you seen Kait?”
A shake of the head.
“Nah.”
“Thought she was with you.”
He kept moving.
Did a full pass around the courtyard.
Nothing.
Inside was the same.
People, noise, movement… no Kait.
By the time he stepped back out, his jaw had tightened just a little.
Not panic.
Not yet.
Just… off.
Lane stood near the far wall again, in the same spot he’d held most of the night, a fresh bottle hanging loose in his hand.
Still barely touched.
The music carried across the courtyard behind him, bass heavy, voices louder than they needed to be. Firelight from the burn barrel flickered against the concrete, throwing shadows that shifted every time someone moved through them.
Kolton cut across the space and stopped in front of him.
“You seen Kait by any chance?”
Lane didn’t look at him right away. He took a slow pull from the bottle first, more out of habit than anything, then lowered it.
“No.”
Flat.
Simple.
Kolton nodded once, glancing back over the courtyard like she might’ve just slipped past him.
“Can’t find her anywhere. I checked her room, the garage…” He exhaled through his nose. “She said she was going to the bathroom and—”
Lane’s grip tightened slightly around the neck of the bottle.
Barely noticeable.
“How long ago?”
“Like… couple of hours.”
Lane’s eyes shifted, scanning the courtyard now with purpose, not just looking—checking. Faces, corners, the bar, the edges near the gate.
Nothing.
He pushed off the wall.
“The Kriger here?”
Kolton frowned slightly. “Actually, I haven’t checked the parking lot.”
“Come on.”
They moved at the same time.
Rows of bikes sat in clean lines along the edge, chrome catching the spill of light from inside.
Kolton’s eyes went straight to where hers should’ve been.
He stopped.
“Fuck. She ain’t even here.”
The space was empty.
Lane frowned. He didn’t like the way fear crawled up his body.
“She shouldn’t be alone. Not after Buster. Did y’all argue or something?”
“No. Not at all. We were chillin’ then she said she was going to the bathroom and disappeared.”
Kolton dragged a hand over the back of his neck, pacing once in place.
“The fuck she go…”
Lane’s gaze stayed on the empty spot a second longer before he looked up, eyes moving out toward the road.
A thought hit.
Quick.
Sharp.
The lakehouse.
For a split second, it sat there, clear as anything.
He shut it down just as fast.
Didn’t say it.
Didn’t let it show.
“Where does she usually go?” Lane asked instead, voice steady.
Kolton looked at him, frustrated.
“That’s the thing. There’s no more Alley, so she doesn’t really go anywhere—”
Blaze came up behind them, cigarette already lit, smoke trailing as he stepped into the light.
“It’s the Westfall cousins… What y’all up to? Riding out or what?”
Kolton shook his head.
“Kait took off. Didn’t tell anyone.”
Blaze took a drag, eyes flicking once to the empty space.
“She might be at the lakehouse.”
Lane glanced at him, quick.
“I don’t even know where that’s at,” Kolton said.
“She could be at Snake Eyes too,” Lane cut in. “Why don’t you call.”
Kolton was already pulling his phone out, dialing as he turned slightly away.
“Could check Brews,” Blaze added, exhaling smoke to the side. “I don’t know.”
Kolton held the phone to his ear, pacing once.
Then again.
He pulled it away, annoyed.
“No one’s answering. Must be busy.”
“Go check it out,” Lane said. “We’ll split and find her faster.”
Kolton nodded, already moving toward his bike.
“Yeah.”
Blaze flicked his cigarette down and crushed it under his boot.
“I’ll check the lakehouse.”
Lane shook his head once.
“Check Brews instead.”
Blaze looked at him for a second, then shrugged.
“Alright. I’ll hit it.”
Lane nodded.
“I’ll ride the main roads.”
Kolton was already mounting up, engine turning over a second later.
“I hope she’s alright,” he said over the sound. “This shit… probably hitting her hard. Her dad and everything.”
Blaze didn’t respond. He swung onto the Strait and fired it up.
Lane didn’t say anything either.
He just looked once more at the empty space where her bike should’ve been.
Then he turned, heading for the Hardline.
Lane didn’t push the bike hard, but he didn’t take it slow either.
The road out there was familiar enough that he didn’t need to think about it. Just rode it the same way he had before, letting the turns come to him without effort.
By the time the lakehouse came into view, the place sat exactly how he remembered it.
Dark.
Still.
No lights inside.
No bike out front.
His chest tightened anyway.
He cut the engine and let the silence settle around him before he swung off. Gravel shifted under his boots as he walked up to the door, his hand going straight to the knob.
Locked.
He stood there for a second, staring at it like it might tell him something.
Nothing.
He stepped back, eyes moving across the place, taking it in.
No sign she’d been there.
Or at least… nothing obvious.
He exhaled through his nose, then moved around the side without thinking too much about it. When he reached the patio, he grabbed the railing and swung himself over, boots landing quietly against the wood.
The back door wasn’t any more welcoming than the front.
Still locked.
That didn’t stop him.
He worked it open the same way he always had, quick and practiced, and stepped inside.
The air hit him first.
Not stale.
Not empty.
It smelled like her.
Faint, but still there.
That alone was enough to stop him in place.
His eyes adjusted to the dark slowly, shapes coming together as the room settled into focus.
The couch.
The blankets still thrown over it, uneven. Just the way they left them.
He didn’t move toward it right away.
Just stood there, taking it in.
The counter sat the same.
Toaster pushed back just slightly.
The jar of strawberry jelly next to it, exactly where it had been.
He stared at it longer than he should have.
It should’ve gone bad by now.
That’s where it was last time.
Which meant—
She hadn’t been back.
Or doesn’t stay long enough to touch anything.
Lane let out a slow breath, something in his chest tightening again, but not the same way as before.
Quieter.
He moved toward the couch, slower this time, like the room itself was heavier than it should’ve been. His hand came up, dragging along the top of the backrest as he passed it, fingers pressing into the fabric like he expected it to give something back.
It did.
Just a flash.
Kait in his arms.
He shook off the memory and stopped near the edge of the room, his eyes drifting out toward the patio through the glass.
For a second, it wasn’t empty.
She was in his arms again.
Swaying to that song.
That fucking song.
He shut his eyes once, hard, like he could push it out.
When he opened them again, it was gone.
Just the dark.
Just the empty patio.
Lane shook his head slightly, jaw tightening as something colder settled in where that memory had been.
The world wasn’t that anymore.
He turned without another look, moving back toward the door.
Didn’t stop.
Didn’t check anything else.
By the time he stepped back out onto the patio, whatever had pulled him there was gone.
Replaced by something sharper.
Cleaner.
He swung back over the railing, hit the ground, and headed straight for his bike.
loyola beach
The cold woke her first.
Not the air.
The sand under her, damp and pulling heat out of her back.
Kait shifted, not fully awake, breath catching as she turned slightly, the sound of the water steady somewhere close by.
Then something blocked it.
Not the sound.
The space.
Her eyes opened slow, unfocused at first… and then stopped.
Shapes where there shouldn’t have been any.
Too close.
Standing over her.
Kait’s hand sank into the sand as she pushed herself up, shoulders tight, eyes locking on them.
“Back the fuck up,” her voice low, still rough from sleep.
Neither of them moved.
Murphy’s gaze dropped over her once, then back to her face. Durst shifted a step to the side, not circling wide—just enough to tighten the space.
Kait got one foot under her, then the other, rising slow so she didn’t slip. Wet sand dragged at her boots.
“Don’t,” she added, sharper now.
Durst’s hand came up just enough for the metal to show. Not aimed. Just there.
Smirk on his face.
That set the line.
Kait clocked it, didn’t stare. Kept both of them in front of her, weight centered, shoulders angled toward the open stretch by the water.
Murphy took a step in anyway.
“You about to get yours, bitch.”
“Ain’t gonna be easy, motherfucker.”
He didn’t stop.
She moved first. Short, direct. Knocking his arm off-line as she stepped through, driving past his shoulder. Sand slid under her, but she kept her feet and turned for open ground.
Durst hit her from the side.
Not clean. Just enough to knock her off balance. She caught herself low, twisted up into him, and snapped an elbow across his face. It landed. He grunted and grabbed for her jacket.
Kait dropped her weight and tore free, bringing a knee up hard into his thigh. It buckled him half a step.
Murphy was already back on her.
He caught her forearm; she turned and kicked him in the stomach. He swore and folded over bracing himself.
For a second, there was space.
Kait took it, stepping toward the darker stretch by the water, trying to widen the gap.
Her heel slid.
That was enough.
Durst drove into her again, shoulder into her side, taking her down into the sand. The breath went out of her chest in a sharp rush.
She rolled, trying to come up, but hands were on her again. Grabbing, forcing. The gun flashed close, low, not aimed—just keeping her in place.
“Stay down, you fucking bitch,” Murphy snapped.
She didn’t.
She twisted, kicked, caught something solid. She clawed up at Durst’s face and felt skin give under her nails.
He shoved her wrist down, harder this time.
The sand shifted under everything—nothing to push against, nothing to hold. Her breath came short now, uneven, chest refusing to fill.
She drove her head forward and hit bone—didn’t matter where. It bought her a beat.
They closed it.
Weight pressed in from both sides, sloppy, angry. She kept moving anyway—trying to turn, to get one arm free, to make space that wasn’t there.
Water hissed in and out a few feet away.
Close.
Too close.
Her hands dug into the sand, searching for something solid.
There wasn’t any.
Her strength bled off in pieces—still fighting, still pushing—just slower now, her body not keeping up with what she needed it to do.
Durst shoved her down again, breath hot and close.
“Hold her—”
Kait twisted under him, nails catching again, dragging hard enough to draw another shout.
For a second, the pressure shifted.
Not gone.
Just enough to break clean.
Then it came back down, heavier.
The world narrowed—sand, breath, hands—everything folding in tight as she kept trying to turn, to get loose, to get up…
Loyola gas and groceries
The pump clicked once as the tank filled, the hum of the fluorescent lights steady overhead.
Officer Richter stood there, one hand braced on the cruiser, the other holding the nozzle, half-listening to the quiet.
Then it broke.
Two bikes tore past the station, engines screaming, way too fast for that stretch.
Richter’s head snapped up.
“Fucking bikers—”
He didn’t think about it.
He shoved the nozzle back into the pump, letting it clatter, already moving for the driver’s side.
The cruiser door slammed.
Engine turned over hard.
Lights came on.
He pulled out fast, tires biting into the pavement as he swung onto the road after them.
The bikes were already a ways out, but still in sight.
Too fast.
Too sloppy.
Richter pushed the cruiser harder, closing the distance bit by bit as the red and blues washed over the dark road.
Up ahead, one of the riders glanced back.
They didn’t try to run.
Not really.
Just slowed enough.
Richter stayed on them until they finally pulled off to the side, engines idling hot.
He rolled in behind them, lights still flashing, the night snapping back into silence except for the ticking engines.
For a second, no one moved.
Then Richter stepped out.
Richter shut the cruiser door behind him and stepped into the wash of his own lights, the red and blue cutting across the road and over the two bikes.
Engines ticked.
Hot.
Both riders stayed seated for a second longer than they should have before finally swinging off.
Richter took his time walking up, one hand resting near his belt, eyes moving before his words did.
“Evening,” he said. “Y’all late for something?”
Murphy let out a short breath, something like a laugh.
“Didn’t realize we were going that fast.”
Richter stopped a few feet out, not closing the gap all the way.
“Yeah, you were,” he said. “Clocked you well over seventy. Five more that’s a reckless charge.”
Durst shifted his weight, boots scraping lightly against the pavement. Up close, it was clearer now—sand on both of them. Not just on the tires.
On their clothes.
On their hands.
Their hair.
Richter’s eyes lingered a second longer.
“Where you coming from?”
Murphy shrugged, too quick.
“Riding.”
“On the beach?” Richter asked, looking at their clothes and boots covered in sand.
Murphy didn’t answer right away.
Durst stepped in instead. “Cut through for a bit.”
Richter nodded once, like that made sense.
“Hey, ain’t ya Dryden PD anyway? Thought this was Game Warden’s turf.”
His gaze dropped.
Murphy’s hand.
Not oil.
Too dark.
Too uneven.
“What happened there?” Richter asked ignoring his comment.
Murphy glanced down like he hadn’t noticed it before.
“Just scraped it.”
Richter’s eyes flicked to Durst’s face.
Fresh marks.
Richter shifted his stance slightly, easing the tension back down without breaking eye contact.
“Alright. Licenses.”
They both reached for their kuttes, slower now.
Richter watched their hands.
Watched how they moved.
No sudden motions.
No reach for anything else.
Just wallets.
He took the IDs, stepped back toward the cruiser, the lights still spinning over the road and the two men waiting under them.
A minute passed.
Maybe less.
He came back with the citations already in hand.
“Gonna write you up for the speed,” he said, handing them over one at a time. “Keep it down through here.”
Murphy took his without looking at it.
“Yeah.”
Durst folded his and shoved it into his pocket.
Richter held them there a second longer with his eyes.
Then nodded once.
“Get on back to the north side.”
They didn’t wait for anything else.
Engines turned over quick.
Too quick.
They pulled out and took off, not as fast this time, but still pushing it more than they should’ve.
Richter watched them go until the sound faded.
Then he stood there a second longer than he needed to.
Quiet.
Something about it didn’t sit right.
Sand.
Blood.
The way they moved.
He exhaled once through his nose, turning back toward the cruiser.
Probably just biker bullshit.
Bar fight.
Drunk.
He’d seen it a hundred times.
Still.
His eyes drifted down the road.
Toward the turn that led to Loyola.
loyola beach
The cruiser rolled slow as Richter turned off toward Loyola, headlights cutting a narrow path across the dark stretch of sand.
He saw the bike before anything else.
Same spot as before.
Same angle.
He let out a quiet breath through his nose.
“Again…”
He eased the cruiser to a stop, engine idling low as he stepped out, the night closing in around him the second the door shut.
He started walking out toward the beach.
Boots hitting packed sand first, then sinking slightly as he moved farther out, the distance opening up between him and the road behind him.
Richter spotted her a few yards ahead, curled on her side near the waterline.
He picked up his pace, but as he got closer, he realized something was terribly wrong.
Her hair was spread across the sand, tangled and stained with blood. There were cuts across her forehead and cheek, and dried blood covered her nose and mouth. Her hands scraped and bloody.
“Miss Lokken?”
He crouched beside her, getting a better look at the bruising already forming around her face.
“Miss Lokken, can you hear me?”
She didn’t answer.
He leaned closer, watching for movement.
“Kait?”
He shifted her carefully, brushing sand away from her bloody face, turning her just enough to check.
She was breathing.
Shallow.
Uneven.
“Jesus Christ… Kait—”
Her head moved faintly.
Not enough.
Richter leaned closer.
“Kait.”
That got something.
A small reaction.
Her body pulled slightly away from his touch, just enough to register it.
“Hey, can you hear me,” he said, voice lower now.
Her eyes opened halfway, unfocused, trying to find him.
Richter frowned, already reaching for his radio.
“Don’t…” she managed. “Don’t call it…”
“Kait, you need help—”
“No,” she said, sharper, even if it cost her. “No more hospitals.”
“I have to call this in, you’re—” he said, steady.
Her hand came up weakly, catching his sleeve for a second before slipping.
“Wait… just—” she swallowed. “No. Take me… somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“My friend… she… she’ll help me.”
Richter studied her, eyes moving quickly—sand, breathing, the way she was holding herself together just enough to argue.
He glanced back once toward the road, then down at her again.
“Was it those two Chrome Union guys? The blond one with the blond hair and the other one?”
Kait shook her head.
Too quick.
“Kait, help me help you.”
“I don’t know who—” she said, voice thinning. “I don’t know.”
Richter held her there a second longer.
Didn’t buy it.
Didn’t push it either.
Not right now.
He slid an arm under her shoulders and helped her sit up, steadying her when she wavered.
“Alright,” he said. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“Not the hospital,” she said again, quieter but firm.
“We’ll figure it out.”
He got her to her feet slowly, her weight leaning into him more than she probably meant to.
They moved back across the sand toward the road, each step heavier than the last.
The cruiser waited where he left it.
So did her bike.
Unmoved.
He opened the passenger door and helped her in, making sure she was upright before stepping back.
Kait leaned her head against the seat, eyes closing again, but not all the way.
Still there.
Still holding on.
Richter shut the door and paused for a second, looking back out toward the beach.
Then toward the road.
Then back to the car.
Something about this didn’t sit right.
Not even close.
He got in anyway.
And pulled out.
the nest
The bar had thinned out.
No more hangarounds, no extra noise—just patches left, spread out across the Nest, bottles and empty shot glasses collecting in front of them.
Kolton had left earlier to get Kyle in bed. It was only Lane and Blaze at the bar.
Blaze leaned forward on his elbows, running a hand through his hair for the third time in as many minutes.
“She’s not at Snake Eyes,” he said, more to the bar than anyone in particular. “Not at Brews…”
Lane sat to his right, quiet, a beer sweating in his hand he hadn’t touched. One hand resting on the back of a chair, eyes unfocused like he was somewhere else entirely.
“She usually disappears like this?”
“Nah, man. She’s always either here or with Prince.”
Blaze shrugged. Then his phone went off.
Sharp.
Loud enough to cut through the room.
Blaze unclipped it, flipping it open with his thumb.
“Yeah.”
The conversation around him died down without anyone saying it should.
Lane watched him.
Blaze’s posture shifted just slightly.
“A cop?” he said, low.
Silence while he listened.
His jaw tightened a fraction.
“Shit. How bad?”
Lane straightened a little at that.
Didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t need to.
Blaze leaned forward, elbow on the bar now, eyes fixed on nothing.
“Alright,” he said. “We’re on our way.”
He closed the phone with a snap.
Set it on the bar for half a second like he might say something else—
“Kait was attacked. Sunshine’s got her.”
The ride over felt too long.
Blaze rode ahead.
Lane stayed close behind him.
Every red light felt too slow.
Every second dragged harder than the last.
By the time they pulled up outside Amber’s apartment, Lane was already off the bike before the engine fully died.
The porch light was on.
Amber opened the door before they even reached it.
Her eyes went straight to Lane first.
And for a second, something in her face shifted.
Recognition.
Understanding.
Like pieces clicking into place all over again.
“Where is she?” Lane asked immediately.
Amber blinked once, caught slightly off guard by how fast the question came.
“My room. Last door on the left. She was dozing off, I gave her something for the pain earlier.”
Lane was already moving past her before the sentence finished.
Blaze tried following him, but Amber stopped him.
“Give them a minute.”
Blaze looked at her confused.
“What?”
“Just, stay here for a sec.”
“What’s that all about?”
Sunshine looked down the hallway once before answering.
“You really don’t know?”
Blaze frowned slightly.
“Know what?”
She studied him for a beat, then shook her head lightly to herself.
Blaze’s eyes narrowed a little as he looked toward the hallway again.
Then it hit him.
“Oh, fuck.”
Sunshine didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
The room was dark except for the lamp near the bed.
Kait was on the bed.
The blanket was pulled up over her waist. Bruising had already started coming in along her jaw and cheekbone, darker shadows sitting under the cuts across her face and neck.
Lane stopped cold in the doorway.
For a second, he couldn’t move.
Couldn’t breathe right.
He could almost see how they beat her by the look of her cuts and bruises.
“Kait…”
Her eyes opened slowly toward him at the sound of his voice.
Heavy.
Drugged.
Not fully focused.
But there.
“What are you doing here?”
Lane crossed the room carefully, like moving too fast might somehow make it worse. He crouched beside the bed, eyes moving over every bruise, every cut, confirming what happened.
His jaw tightened hard enough to hurt.
“Who did this? What happened?” he asked quietly.
Kait looked at him for a long second before her eyes drifted away again.
“Don’t know.”
Bullshit.
Lane knew it immediately.
But he also knew she wasn’t gonna tell him.
His hand came up before he thought about it, stopping halfway to her face.
Hesitating.
Like he wasn’t sure he still had the right.
Then slowly, carefully, he brushed a strand of hair back from beside one of the cuts near her temple.
Kait flinched.
Small.
But enough.
Lane’s hand froze instantly.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
The words barely made it out.
Kait swallowed once, eyes still somewhere past him now.
Lane leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on the bed.
“Who was it, Kait? Tell me so I can fucking kill them.”
Kait gave a faint shake of her head against the pillow.
He reached for her hand instead, fingers barely closing around it.
Careful.
Like she might break apart.
Kait looked down at it.
Then back at him slowly.
“Now you care?”
“This has nothing to do with that… Tell me who did this to you.”
“Doesn’t fucking matter.”
“Yes, it does. Why would anyone—”
“Why don’t you just leave?” she said softly.
Lane went completely still.
Every bit of air seemed to leave the room at once.
“Kait—”
Kait moved her hand away.
“Just fucking… leave… and next time you see me… look the other way.”
“Kait, don’t—”
“Go home… leave me alone,” she barely whispered.
She was fading.
Lane stood and looked at her for a moment.
“Kait…”
She didn’t answer.
He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and left.
He wiped the tear off his face and left passing the living room, without saying anything to Blaze or Amber.
