“When you wake up, my dear, remember this is a warning. Oh, and my name is Demon,” his fingers stay tight until the world goes black.
I wake on the ground, my body slumped in the dirt, my mind spinning. It takes me a moment to come around, to remember what just happened. I lie there, chest heaving, tasting blood and asphalt, dizzy from oxygen deprivation. Slowly, I push myself upright and start the slow stumble home.
I don’t want to be out here for a second longer.
When I bust out the back, where all the guys are sitting around a heap of broken-down cars, I do it loud enough to stop them in their tracks. They all turn, and it’s Chief whose eyes narrow as he throws his spanner down and walks over.
“What happened? Why is your mouth bleedin’, baby?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. My neck burns from where his fingers dug in. “Someone attacked me on my run. He said something about telling you that he told you he would find you. Demon, or something. He said it was a warning.”
Chief’s jaw tightens, and he lets out a fierce curse. “Fuck.”
From behind, Travis’ voice slices the air. “Mischief, are you okay?”
I nod, somewhat numb.
He reaches out to stroke my bottom lip but stops when he realizes where we are. He turns to Chief. “Isn’t Demon someone you’ve had bad blood with for a fuckin’ long time?”
“Yeah,” Chief mutters.
“We got a problem, Pres?”
Sergeant of arms, Paulie, steps up beside Chief, his face dark with words unspoken. Chief looks to me, eyes blazing. “Travis, get her inside and make sure she’s okay. I’m goin’ to find that motherfucker.”
Chief leans down, cupping my chin and inspecting my face, before planting a kiss on my head and disappearing, at least six bikers following him out. Travis reaches for me, but I take a shaky step back.
“Come on now, Mischief. You need ice.”
“I know where it is.”
“I’m quite fucking certain you do, but I’m going to get it. Sit down.”
He plants me down onto a chair, and then disappears. He comes back a minute later with an ice pack, and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
He studies me, his face flashing with anger. "That motherfucker, I hope they find him. He hurt you anywhere else?"
I shake my head. "He did choke me until I passed out. That's it."
Travis’ jaw clenches so hard I hear the click of bone. "What?"
"Is that bad?"
"Not fuckin' good," he mutters. "I'm taking you to the hospital. Now."
Twenty minutes later, we're sitting in hard plastic chairs under fluorescent lights. The triage nurse has already checked my vitals, but the ER is packed with weekend casualties. Travis hasn't stopped glaring at the wall since we arrived.
“You don’t have to wait,” I say, trying to break the silence.
I’m also trying to avoid looking at two women in the corner, taking photos of him. If I say something, I might just lose it and it won’t end well.
“I’m not leavin’ you here alone, Violet.”
It’s strange when he calls me that.
“I have spent plenty of time alone in the last few years, I’m good.”