Page 4 of Devil’s Torture

A loneliness I’ve never experienced before starts to seep in.

My heart hardens towards the club I thought was my family.

CHAPTER 1

BEXLEY

The road I’m standing next to is endless in both directions. The sky is filled with heavy clouds which look like they’re about to open up at any moment. I can smell the rain in the air like a threat.

A rumble starts to approach and I know the sound. The number of times the sound has soothed me and told me the man I love is coming home rushes through me. It’s a sound I memorized from the moment Miller fired up his bike for the first time.

It meant freedom.

It meant peace.

It meant love.

Some days the sound of his bike was the only thing keeping me upright because as long as I heard that sound, I would be safe.

My heart aches because the sound is so far away, even as it comes closer. I can feel the vibrations from the engine growing stronger. Just when I think the motorcycle is going to come into view a light rain starts to fall.

When a headlight cuts through the rain, my eyes shut against the light. The rumbling gets louder, the sound of it vibrating through my entire body. When my eyes snap open, the bike is still blurry in the distance.

But I still know it.

I’ll always know it.

Rune’s bike. The one he bought and restored under the watchful eyes of his brothers. He took care of it almost as good as he took care of me. Almost.

Just before I can fully take him in, the sound of his tires skidding along the asphalt reaches me. The light careens through the air, the beam of it bouncing around through the darkness, illuminating everything and nothing at the same time. Everything beyond the beam darkens and time stills when the metal meets the road. Sparks fly, but the bike is too far away.

It was going too fast.

“Miller,” I scream, the sound ripping from me with a feral wail.

I run toward where the headlamp has settled, the angle wrong on the expanse of road. Every time my foot hits the ground, it feels like the light moves farther away. Not closer.

Farther.

Even though it feels impossible, I force my body to move faster. Run. Run. Run.

My arms are pumping and my chest is heaving as my feet pound against the pavement.

Run. Run. Run.

Faster.

Farther.

The light is still farther.

When I stop, I’m gulping down air as my hair sticks to my sweaty forehead. My lungs are burning.

But I can’t look away from the headlamp.

It’s quiet.

Silent.