10. Aurora

Iroll over in bed, stretching my deliciously sore muscles as I let out a contented sigh. I feel thoroughly used and completely satisfied. The water turns on for the shower, and I decide to get up and do some exploring while Razor is still in there.

I know I should be anxious about Viper and the Serpents, but right now, I can't keep the smile off my face. Razor makes me feel so safe and protected, I'm starting to believe him when he says he'll take care of me.

Still, my stomach twists when I think about Razor facing off with my brother's club. He said he's in the security business, but one man can only do so much when confronted with two dozen hardened criminals. What if I just brought the wrath of the Serpents to Razor's doorstep?

Razor will have a solution. I trusted him with my sketchy past and my pathetic present, maybe he'll be the one to give me a fulfilling future.

A chill sweeps over my naked body and I decide to throw on one of Razor's shirts while I continue my exploration. Opening the first drawer of his dresser, I find a pile of socks, none of them matching. I smile to myself, knowing this new piece of information about the man I'm already half in love with.

Moving on to the second dresser drawer, I open it, not believing my eyes. My smile drops right along with my stomach. The first shirt haphazardly strewn across the pile of other clothes in the drawer has a Rebel Hearts logo on it.

I reach out with a trembling hand, pausing when I'm a fraction of an inch away from the fabric as if it might burn me if I touch it. I have to know.

Grabbing the shirt, I hold it out in front of me, unable to breathe as I read Rebel Hearts Motorcycle Club scrawled beneath their logo. I'm frozen in place, my fingers growing numb from gripping the shirt so hard in my fists.

Maybe he got it at a second-hand store, I try justifying to myself.

Tossing the shirt on the bed behind me, I race to the closet and fling the double doors open. There, hanging right up front in all its glory, is a Rebel Hearts cut. There's no mistaking it and there's no way in hell he found this a thrift shop.

Oh god. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

I ran away from one club, right into the arms of another. More specifically, I fell into bed with a member "in security." I know what that means. Razor is the Enforcer. The one who roughs people up and intimidates their targets into getting information. The Enforcer for the Serpents is a brutal man with callouses and scars on his knuckles from the beatings he unleashes on his enemies.

Razor has never treated me like that, my heart tells me.

What do I even know about Razor, really? This is all a lie, my brain argues.

I slam my eyes shut and put my hands over my ears, feeling overstimulated and out of control. My mind races with possibilities and explanations that don't end with Razor lying to get me into bed.

He was there when I almost got hit by that car. He showed up right when I needed him last night, which means… he was already parked outside the compound. There's no other way he'd get to me so fast, let alone know where to find me.

"No," I whisper, tears clogging my throat and burning my eyes. But the truth is finally setting in.

I drop my hands from my face, my entire body shaking with rage and betrayal.

Razor has been stalking me, or at least stalking the club, and used my escape as an opportunity to exploit not only me but the club. That"s the only thing that makes sense. He wanted to humiliate my brother by using me.

Do I really believe that? The man I've gotten to know isn't manipulative or violent. Then again, anyone can put on a show for a few days. He pretended to be nice to me, he even listened to me spill my heart out about everything that happened to me, and the whole time, he was probably dying with laughter inside.

What a fool I've been. A complete idiot. A naive woman desperately seeking belonging and human touch. I went and trusted the first man to show me an ounce of kindness, only to have it blow up in my face.

I listen for the sound of the shower, nodding to myself when I hear it still running. I grab my beer-soaked clothes from last night, which are dry by now, but still smelly and disgusting. Hesitating for a moment, I debate on whether to steal some of Razor"s clothes but decide I don"t want anything of his.

I cringe as I step into my shorts and pull on my shirt, my nose wrinkling against the assault of stale beer and cigarette smell. Even so, this is a better option than staying here. Gathering up the rest of my scant belongings, I make a run for the front door, leaping down the porch steps and letting my feet carry me anywhere but here.

After a few minutes of turning down one street corner and then another, I slow to a walking pace. I was starting to draw attention, which is the last thing I want.

Shit. Now what? The Rebel Hearts will be after me soon, as well as the Serpents. I mean, what the hell? How did my life come to this? I never should have left the compound. Viper was right, I can't survive without the club, whether I like it or not.

It's not quite noon yet, which means the majority of the members are still passed out or groggily waking up and stumbling back home. They might not have even noticed I was gone, or if they did, maybe they forgot in their drunken stupors.

Am I really going back?

What other choice do I have?

I fought so hard to be free…

And once I was, I ran right into another prison.

I take a deep breath and blow it out, accepting my fate. Better to go with the devil you know, right? At least, that's how the saying goes.

Taking a moment to get my bearings, I plot out the fastest route on foot to the Serpents' compound. Good thing Maplewood is a small town and Main Street is never more than a few blocks away. Once I get there, it"ll be a straight shot to the compound.

I'm sweaty and exhausted by the time I get to the old farmhouse. Leaning against the outside wall next to the back door, I take a moment to calm down and paste on my usual smile. I just need to pretend that nothing happened. I didn't run away last night and give my virginity to a member of a rival club. That would be crazy. Reckless. Idiotic.

When I've waited as long as I dare without going unnoticed, I straighten my shoulders and hold my head high as I step into the kitchen of the clubhouse. Brandi is there, though instead of the strapless dress she was wearing the night before, she has a torn sweatshirt, undoubtedly from whichever member she slept with last night. For the first time in my life, I can relate to Brandi.

It's not a good feeling.

She turns, looking me up and down before frowning. "Rough night?" she asks, though I can tell she's already lost interest. Fine by me.

"Something like that," I reply with a smile. Brandi waves me off before grabbing a half-empty bottle of whiskey. She disappears into the shadows, crawling back into bed with a wake-up drink for her man, I guess.

I sneak out of the kitchen, peering into the catastrophic mess that was left in the bar area last night. Usually, I"d have most of it cleaned up by now.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Viper snarls from behind me as he grabs my upper arm. My brother yanks me backward and spins me around, making me stumble.

"I w-wasn't feeling w-well l-last night," I lie. I've never been great at hiding the truth, unlike all the men in my life, apparently. "I went to bed early," I say with more confidence this time. "It must have been a migraine or something. I just woke up and came here as soon as I realized how late I slept."

Viper stares at me, his usually dead eyes flickering with something dark. He's always had a temper, which the drugs made worse. But this look… It's obsessive and lustful, though not toward me. He's on a power trip, his focus solely on money, drugs, and controlling this town. This new partnership with the cartel has him hungry for more. For everything.

I'm worried he won't believe me, but after a moment, Viper nods his head. "Go clean yourself up," he grunts. "You look disgusting." My brother spits on me, his saliva landing on my shoulder.

"I will," I promise, taking a step to the side so I can go back to the storage shed I converted into a studio apartment across the gravel lot.

"I have a special project for you today. Need you to do a solid for the club."

I swallow thickly, a pit forming in my stomach. Still, I nod, agreeing to whatever he says just so I can get out of here.

"Come find me in my office," Viper instructs. His "office" is a room upstairs with a safe full of cash and a table with lines of cocaine ready to snort at any given moment.

Only when he stomps down the hall and heads upstairs do I let go of the breath I was holding. I don"t have a good feeling about this. Maybe I should have tried my luck confronting Razor or run to the nearest railroad track and jumped on the first train moving slowly enough for me to catch.

None of that matters anymore. I'm locked in now.

Twenty minutes later, I emerge from my apartment with clean clothes and freshly washed hair. A wave of sadness breaks over my body at the thought of how I wanted to join Razor in the shower this morning. Another wave washes over me, this one bringing despair and betrayal with it. Finally, anger settles in.

Entering the clubhouse once more, I get a few glares from the club bunnies as I walk past the bar area. Viper must have told them to earn their keep by cleaning up once in a while. That"s what he does on the very rare occasion I"m unable to do all of the chores and cleaning in one morning.

I have bigger things to worry about than the ire of Brandi, Danielle, and the other girls. For all I know, this special project could get me killed. At least I wouldn't have to deal with the bunny drama or the consequences of sleeping with the enemy.

Wow, that's a dark thought.

"There you are," Viper says, wiping his nose and sniffling a few times. There's still some white powder on the side of his left nostril, but I'm certainly not going to be the one to point that out to him.

I stand silently in the doorway, waiting for his next command.

"Don't look so stiff and awkward," my brother barks out, making me jump. "I need you to be cool and calm for this. It's no big deal, so there's no reason to be nervous."

Nodding, I keep my eyes focused on the floor. I don't want to look at Chad. At what he's become; a terrifying addict ruled by power and surrounded by drug paraphernalia, dirty money, and stolen goods.

"Rory," he says, his voice softer than I've heard in a long time.

I finally look up at him, watching as my brother stands from his seat and walks over to me. He hasn't called me Rory since we were kids. It was his nickname for me. No one else called me Rory. Only Chad.

"You trust me, right? I'm your big brother. I've protected you your entire life. I'd never put you in danger."

A thousand memories of my childhood flood my mind. Chad distracting me from our parents fighting, us playing in the park, him teaching me how to ride a bike, and then promptly teaching me how to bandage up a scraped knee.

But the man standing in front of me today isn't Chad. He's Viper. I've suffered his wrath physically and emotionally over the years. I've dealt with his mood swings, his erratic behavior, and his excessive drug use, all while keeping the clubhouse in order.

I know he's manipulating me, but I'm powerless to do anything about it.

"I know," I say, sounding more confident than I feel.

"Good," he replies with a smile. This isn't the pleasant, happy smile of Chad. It's the sly, wicked smirk of a man with evil intentions. "All you have to do is take this backpack to some friends of mine in Dallas."

I may be stupid when it comes to love and relationships if the last twenty-four hours have proven anything, but I"m not a total idiot. I know there are drugs in the backpack. Several kilos of cocaine, if I"m not mistaken.

"I… don't know if–"

Viper snaps, his hand flying through the air and hitting my cheek with enough force to make me dizzy. His fingers wrap around my neck and he pulls me forward before slamming me against the wall.

"You will do this for me," he snarls, his nostrils flaring as he shakes with anger. I can hardly breathe, but I try shaking my head no. Viper tightens his grip, making me lightheaded. "Or else I'll have to find out where you really went last night. I have a feeling you don't want that."

"I'll do it," I manage to choke out.

Viper drops his hand from my throat and I collapse onto the ground, my hands pressing against the sides of my neck as I cough and suck down air.

"Stop being so dramatic," he says, clearly annoyed with my need to breathe. "There's a burgundy sedan out front I rented under a fake name. Here are the keys." Viper tosses them in my direction, hitting me in the chest. "I'll send the location to your phone. Don't fuck this up, Aurora. I may be the Vice President, but I only have so much say around here. If the big guy doesn't want you around because you won't contribute…"

Viper shrugs and holds his hands out, palms up, letting me fill in the blanks. If I don't do this, my secret and shameful affair will be discovered and my brother will make sure I'm silenced. For good.

"Are you deaf?" he shouts, his mood swinging from annoyance to rage at the drop of a hat. "I told you to get your ass in that fucking car and deliver that backpack. Go!"

I scramble to my feet, grabbing the backpack and slinging one strap over my shoulder.

Shit, this thing is heavy. I don't even want to think about how much cocaine I'm currently carrying through the clubhouse and outside into the front parking lot. If I stop to think about any of this, I'm going to lose my mind and do something stupid like ditch the backpack, drive up north, and just keep going and going until I run out of money and gas. Then again, the last time I ran away, I was betrayed in the worst way possible.

I set the backpack in the front seat, then decide to place it in the back. After looking at it through the window for a moment, I change my mind and put it back in the front, on the floor this time. Does it really matter where the backpack is? If I'm pulled over or jumped, they'll find it anyway.

Opening the driver's side door, I climb inside, adjusting the seat so it's more comfortable. Not that I'll ever be comfortable doing this, but at least my back won't be bent at a weird angle.

I set my phone on the dashboard and open up the message from Viper with the location. After plugging the address into my phone, I start up the directions. With trembling fingers, I raise the key to the ignition and turn, starting up the average-looking, bland car. I'm sure that was a purposeful choice.

I've walked and driven through Maplewood a hundred thousand times in my life, but never like this. I'm hyper-aware of everything and everyone I see. Are they looking at me? Do they know? Am I driving too fast? Or not fast enough?

I make it through the main part of town and turn onto a gravel road that runs alongside the major highway. I figured the less-traveled roads would have fewer cops. Then again, maybe it"s more suspicious if I"m driving alone on a road that usually has no traffic. I don"t fucking know, but the decision has been made.

I'm about to make a left turn out of town and follow this old country highway as far as I can before merging onto I-35, but the familiar rumble of motorcycle engines in the distance catches my attention. Are the Serpents following me to make sure I deliver the package? That doesn't make sense though.

Looking into my rearview mirror, my eyes widen in panic while my heart thuds painfully against my ribcage. It's not the Serpents. It's the Rebel Hearts.

I make the left turn, pressing the gas pedal down as far as it will go. Instead of zooming off like I thought I would, the tires spin in place, shooting loose gravel everywhere. The car fishtails across the intersection, the right back tire getting wedged and stuck in the mud on the side of the road.

The car comes to an abrupt halt, throwing my considerable weight against the seatbelt strapped across my chest. I'm sweating, shaking, and barely able to breathe with the fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I"m stuck. Trapped. Even if I ran, they"d catch me. Do they want the drugs for themselves? What would Viper do if I came back empty-handed and told him his supply was stolen?

A loud tap against my window makes me shriek and spin around in my seat. I look up, up, up, seeing a tall man with blue eyes and dark brown hair. He has a Rebel Hearts cut on as well as a Rebel Hearts bandana. The patch on his cut lets me know he's the president.

I roll down my window before he shoots it out. I know how this works. I'm outnumbered, outgunned, and overpowered in every way. The man bends down and gets a good look at me, his eyes widening in surprise. He looks over his shoulder at the men surrounding him, giving them a questioning look.

"You sure this is the right car? I think we got some bad intel," the man says.

"My intel is spot on," another man says. "I don't give out bad information."

"What about the backpack?" someone else asks. I didn't realize they were surrounding my car. Two people are staring at the bag through the passenger side window. I shake my head no, which apparently was the wrong move.

"I knew it," the biker who gave the intel says, a hint of self-satisfaction in his voice.

I hit the lock button on the doors, but I'm too late. One of the men rips the car door open and grabs the backpack. I shut my eyes and wrap my arms around my stomach, hoping to keep myself from throwing up all over the inside of the car. Then again, maybe that would be just the distraction I need to get away.

"There's got to be at least ten kilos in here just judging from the weight," someone says.

More men talk and argue, but their voices are fading into the background as I fold in on myself. My heart is racing right along with my thoughts and I find it difficult to get a full breath while there's a vice crushing my lungs.

"Miss?" a voice says. I must have heard them wrong. "Uh, ma'am?" the voice says again. "Don't want you passing out on us. Can you take a few breaths?"

I don't understand what's happening.

"Seems like you found yourself in a bad situation," the first man, the president of the Rebel Hearts says. I nod, managing to look up at him through my window. He doesn't look like he's going to hit me or put a bullet in my head, so that's good. "Look, I can't just let you go. You're involved and we need to know how much."

I nod again, apparently unable to do anything else at the moment.

"Why don't you scoot over to the other seat and Tank here, our VP, will drive you over to our clubhouse."

It's not like I have a choice. I do as he asks, getting settled in the passenger seat while another large and intimidating man sits in the driver's seat. We're silent for the entire ride, which is good. I don't know what to say, what to tell, what to lie about. Where do my loyalties lie? Viper? The Serpents, who have always treated me like less than a human? Are the Rebel Hearts really as bad as my brother made them out to be? So far, they're treating me with more respect than anyone in the Serpents. Razor was never cruel to me, he was only ever understanding and calming.

My world has changed so much in the last day. I don't know where to go from here or where I'll be this time tomorrow. Thoughts, doubts, and fears swirl around in my brain, making me dizzy. I rest my head against the cool glass of the window, trying to decide if I even want to survive this.

Honestly? I don't know anything anymore.