I clenched my fists under the table.
Church ended just as abruptly as it had begun.
Chairs scraped back.Men stood.Voices stayed low as everyone filed out, tension clinging like static.
I didn’t move.
Neither did Dad.
He sat across from me, elbows resting on the table, his gaze steady and assessing.“You ready to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”he asked.
I stared at the wood grain in front of me with my jaw tight.
“It’s not like you to talk back to Wrecker,” he said calmly.
“Well,” I bit out, “when it feels like Wrecker isn’t doing anything, I guess I have something to say.”
“He’s doing what he can,” Dad replied.
“Well, it’s not enough,” I snapped.“Because Clove isn’t here, is she?”
The words hung between us, raw and ugly.
Dad tipped his head slightly, studying me the way he used to when I was a kid and had gotten into trouble I didn’t want to explain.
“She’s going to come home,” he said quietly.
I nodded once and pushed to my feet.“She better.”My voice dropped, cold and unyielding.“Or the whole fuck of Northbound Reapers are dead.”
I didn’t wait for his response.
I stormed out of church, down the hallway, and past the common area where conversations died the second I appeared.I shoved through the front door and stepped out into the night.
The air was brisk for this time of year.
I crossed the lot to my bike, pulled a cigarette from my pocket, and lit it with hands that shook just enough to piss me off.
I leaned against the bike and tipped my head back, staring up at the sky.
Stars scattered across it, distant and indifferent.
Clove was out there somewhere under the same sky.
I took a drag and let the smoke curl out slowly.I wasn’t going to stop.
Not for Wrecker.Not for Yogi.Not for anyone.
I’d find her.
And when I did, I’d make sure the people who took her understood exactly what kind of mistake they’d made.
Chapter Seven
Clove
Lying still had become a skill.
Not sleeping, just being still.Breathing shallow.Letting my body melt into the mattress so completely that I could almost pretend I wasn’t there.Pretend I was just another piece of junk in this camper, forgotten and unimportant.