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“What happened when he tried to tell me the truth?” she asked.

Razor tilted his head. “I had him killed.” The gun nearly slipped from Angel's hand. Seven years of grief crashed into seven years of lies. Her father, Gabriel, and the Nomad Knights were everything she believed in. They were everything she ran from, and all of it had been built on secrets. Razor took one slow step toward her. “And now you're going to finish what Shadow couldn't.”

Angel raised the gun. “Go to hell.”

His eyes dropped to the weapon and then back to her. “You won't shoot me.”

“You sure about that?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, seeming very sure of himself.

“Why won’t I shoot you?” she asked.

Razor smiled. “Because I'm the only person alive who knows what Shadow was trying to tell you the night he died.” Angel froze, and Razor knew he'd won that round. He took another step. “The phone call that sent you to the gas station?” Her heart stopped. “I made it.” Angel couldn't breathe, and Razor's smile disappeared. “But Shadow wasn't dead when you got there.”

Everything inside her went cold. “What?”

Crow swore, and Razor stared directly into her eyes. “He was still alive, Angelina.”

“No, he wasn’t,” she insisted.

“Yes, he was,” Crow countered.

“I checked,” she said.

“You panicked,” he accused.

“I held him!” she spat.

“And while you were holding him, he told you something,” Crow insisted.

“No,” she shouted.

“You've spent seven years believing he was already dead because your mind buried what happened next,” Crow said.

Angel shook her head violently. “No.”

Razor took one final step toward her. “You want to know what Shadow's last words really were?” he asked. Angel couldn't move. She couldn't breathe, and couldn't think.

Razor smiled. “Find the ledger, and I'll tell you.” She was about to tell him to fuck off when a gunshot exploded through the barn, and Angel hit the ground.

JACKHAMMER

Jackhammer had never seen Ghost lose control—not really. He'd seen him angry. He'd seen him violent. He'd watched the man beat another biker bloody without changing expression, but Ghost didn't lose control. He became colder, quieter, and deadlier.

But when they reached the empty bedroom and saw the open window, something inside Ghost fucking snapped. “ANGEL!” He leaned out the window, and Jackhammer grabbed the back of his kutte.

“Don't,” Hammer shouted.

“Get the fuck off me,” Ghost ordered.

“You don't know what's down there,” Hammer insisted.

“I don't give a fuck,” Ghost shouted.

“I do,” Hammer said. Ghost spun around, and for one second, Jackhammer barely recognized his best friend. There was panic in his eyes, not anger, not rage, or fear. Jackhammer understood because the same thing was ripping him apart. Angel was gone. She'd been standing behind him downstairs when the lights went out for a few seconds. That was all it had taken—a few fucking seconds, and now she was gone.

Ghost's phone buzzed, and he looked at it. Jackhammer watched his expression change as he read the message.