Furore: Texas Chapter Duet Part One (The Night Skulls MC Book 1)
Furore: Chapter 31

I stared at my burner phone for almost an hour as I hunched down in a motel room near Utah. A desperate voice nagged me to call Laius, telling me I was doing us both no good, and I should have just told him the truth. If I’d had learned anything from what Ty did in the name of saving and protecting me, it was it didn’t work. It only ruined us beyond repair.

But I wasn’t Laius. I didn’t have anger issues that made me go rampage, beating people around or worse.

Another voice, more sensible, urged me to call Michele. Chicago, under the protection of Don Sebastiano Bellomo’s personal bodyguard, was the most logical choice to go for when I had a psychotic ex that I was certain wouldn’t stop looking for me, and a very angry boyfriend that probably wanted to murder me for what I’d done to him.

Except I didn’t want to go back to this life of blood and hate.

It didn’t seem I had much of a choice, though. It was better than the alternative, and I shouldn’t judge. Not after I was willingly going to live in Texas with Furore, the president of the Night Skulls. He didn’t exactly preach at a church. I wasn’t oblivious to the club activities, and Michele had confirmed them. They had business with the Mob and the cartel. Going back to Chicago had the exact same risks I’d accepted to take to be with Laius.

But he won’t be there. Why take such risks to be all alone?

God, I was tired of overthinking. My head felt as if set on fire. “I’m twenty-three for God’s sake. This shouldn’t be my life. What the fuck should I do?”

Lights flickered through the curtains and spilled into the room. Headlights. Quietly, I grabbed the gun and held it as I peeked from the curtains. It was four in the morning, I was on the run, and every light, sound and movement freaked me out.

Through the window, I glimpsed a black sedan sliding into the parking lot, and a couple came out of it. Okay. False alarm.

However, I refused to live in that kind of fear any longer. I’d been hurt, lost and alone. Furore’s eyes always screamed at me a sacred promise, “No more, never again.” I believed him, and I loved him, but I was broken by fear. No matter how hard I tried, I didn’t know how to be whole. How could I let him in my life when I was nothing but sharp pieces threatening to cut and stab and hurt anyone who dared come close?

I made up my mind. I put the gun on the side table and started to dial Michele’s number.

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The phone dropped when I gasped, jumping off the bed as silver lights pooled inside the room. I grabbed the gun as two figures entered through the broken down door. I twisted and aimed at one of them. Bang!

“Son of a—”

Did I hit or miss? Fuck. I didn’t have time to panic or wonder. My finger hit the trigger again, but the second person held my arm up and put a bag over my head. “No! No!” I kicked as hard as I could, firing without aim; I couldn’t see anything.

“A little help here. She’s feisty as fuck,” he said as he twisted my wrist and dropped my gun on the floor with a thud.

“The bitch shot me. Why didn’t he say she had a gun?”

“What?! Who’s he?! Who are you?!” I kept kicking at the shins of the man holding me, elbowing him as well.

Footsteps approached me, and a something pricked my neck. No. Did they just drug me like I did with Ty? As my head spun, and blackness surrounded me, I realized karma was a bitch, and I was fucked.

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