First message
I’d been leaning on the bike, cleaning grease off my hands, letting Jax and Rook take the lead. But I see how she tenses, then softens just a little—still wary, but no longer like she’s ready to bolt. That’s my cue.
I saunter over, hands in plain sight, grinning easy to cut the tension. “Don’t let these two scare you. Jax talks too much, Rook’s got a face like thunder, but we don’t bite.”
She blinks, then huffs a small, shaky breath. “You all look like you could.”
“Fair call,” I chuckle, nodding at our cuts. “But Iron Vultures? They’d have already surrounded you. We’re just stopping for gas and coffee.” I lean in slightly, tone turning earnest. “Look, you’re all twisted up like something’s chasing you. They asked already, but I wanna know too—what’s really got you running this late?”
She stares at us for a long beat, fingers tapping the pump. For the first time, she doesn’t look like she’s sizing up an escape route.