I was a solitary beast, a ruthless hunter, a damn force of nature.
I learned a helluva long time ago, you can’t trust a soul in this fucked-up world. Only got yourself to fall back on.
I couldn’t help but dissect the fucker I was stuck working for—Hank. I’d seen his brand of sleaze before: a man all gobbled up by greed, senses numbed by the heady cocktail of power he sloshed around. Complacency had him by the balls, his defenses down as he bathed in his deluded sense of invulnerability.
I fucking loathed Hank and everything he embodied. The only reason I found myself tangled in his web of depravity was the golden nugget he held—the name of the bastard who killed my mom. That single tidbit had pushed me to the edge, forcing me to rub shoulders with the despicable dregs of society that swarmed around me.
As I continued my mental dissection of Hank’s weaknesses, my focus sharpened. Every word he spoke, every movement he made, all meticulously cataloged and analyzed in my mind. I was a predator stalking my prey, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
CLOVER
I navigated the shadowy, serpentine road leading to my friend Laura’s home. The headlights of my car cast unsettling shadows that flickered and cavorted among the bordering trees.
“I got the ice cream ready!” she said on the phone while I smiled. She knew I needed a break. Avery’s antics had been driving me crazy lately, and it was nice to hang out with someone who didn’t need me to take care of them. Laura and I had been best friends for fifteen years.
“I’m surprised you snuck any ice cream into the house without Carson seeing,” I teased.
“That boy already stole a scoop,” Laura replied with a laugh, her tone full of happiness and warmth. “I swear my son has a sweet tooth alert system set up somewhere. The moment I walk through the door with anything containing sugar, he drops everything to steal it.”
We both laughed. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Looking forward to it. Drive safe.”
Following the call, I chucked my cell onto the passenger seat and pressed on, the car’s engine and the road’s white noise my only company. Reminders of Avery plagued me, a persistent worry gnawing at my consciousness. Out again, probably brushing shoulders with the wrong crowd—the Devils, maybe. My sister’s penchant for flirting with danger was a constant source of anxiety, her reckless boundary pushing a weighty burden on my already heavy shoulders.
My responsibilities replayed in my mind like a broken record.
Work.
Avery.
And that crippling loneliness, an unwelcome passenger in the silence of the car, its presence more pervasive and tangible than ever. This stark solitude wasn’t just a state of being; it was a harsh reminder of my isolation in a world of shared troubles.
I had Laura and Avery. But my sister was constantly out seeking the next thrill, and Laura was a single mom to a rambunctious six-year-old. Sometimes I just wanted someone to spend time with. To share the burdens with.
Someone to take care of me.
As I maneuvered through the path, my mind was a swirl of worry and anxiety, a veil of fog that separated me from the physical world. Lost in my own thoughts, my senses were numbed.
And then, in a blink, the tranquil night shattered.
A flash of brown and white exploded from the shadowy underbrush, a deer darting with heart-stopping suddenness onto the asphalt.
Shit!
My heart stalled as the world seemed to slow, the oncoming outline of the deer imprinted against the harsh glare of the headlights. A moment of suspended silence. Then came the devastating impact.
The deer slammed into the windshield with a thunderous crash, a gruesome chorus of shattering glass and a sickening crunch of bone. The animal’s desperate eyes locked with mine for a horrifying instant before it was torn away by the brutal force of the collision.
Time seemed to slow as the deer collided with my truck, the terrible crash of impact blaring through the night. The animal was gone as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only shards of glass and a truck skidding out of control in its wake.
Frantically, I pulled the wheel to the right, but the truck swerved off the road, scraping into a ditch. The impact with the steering wheel knocked the wind out of me, causing a sharp pain to flare in my chest. My vision blurred as I gasped for breath.
Silence fell as the engine sputtered and died, the remnants of the crash lying starkly around me. Stranded, injured, and alone, I began to feel panic creeping in, filling the truck’s cab and my mind with dread.
Every movement was met with a tremor of pain. With great effort, I grabbed my phone and pushed open the door, the twisted metal grinding against my strength. A quick inventory revealed a throbbing ankle, a scraped knee, and a backache. My head pounded, vision still fuzzy, but I knew it would pass.
My dad’s old truck was now a testament to the accident, a broken windshield and sizable dent marring its exterior. Anger bubbled up, and I kicked the truck. This old piece of metal was more than just transportation—it was a piece of my dad. Now, it was just another thing in my life that was broken.
Between taking care of my sister and keeping up with bills, I was stretched thin. Laura’s invite had been a lifeline. Now, it felt like another load added to my already heavy burden.
The growl of a motorcycle pulled me from my thoughts. A sleek black bike pulled up, the rider stepping off with an air of effortless grace. The man was tall, his shoulders broad, and his face rough-hewn. His windblown hair gave him a rugged appeal.
Declan Wilder.
Why was it always Declan Wilder who crossed my path? His charm was a magnet I couldn’t resist. We eyed each other, an exchange of silent assessments. His stare was penetrating, hinting at a darkness that made me tremble.
“Need help?” His voice was gruff, and I felt a jolt at his words. There was a certain electricity in the air, drawing us closer.
I hesitated, torn between wariness and attraction. He was a mystery wrapped in a good-looking package, but I was drawn to him, transfixed by his aura. With a slight nod, I allowed him to step closer. He moved with an ease and purpose that was almost mesmerizing.
His hand came up, pushing a loose strand of hair from my face. His touch sent a warm current through me, causing me to blush and lean into his hand.
Yet, amidst the tenderness, there was a twinge of fear. He was still an unknown, a tantalizing enigma.
His fingers traced the forming bruises on my arm, the contact sending a delightful chill through my veins. His gaze was overwhelming, a mix of concern and interest. “Are you hurt?” His voice was low, a husky rumble that sent a thrill through me.
I found myself unable to speak, the heat of his touch sparking an urge within me. His face softened with regret and concern. “I won’t hurt you, Wildflower,” he assured, his voice carrying a gentle growl.
He stepped closer, insistent on checking my condition. His touch was firm yet delicate, stirring a longing I couldn’t deny.
Our connection in that moment felt electric, everything else fading into insignificance. “You’re okay now, Wildflower,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble resonating within me.
I knew I should push him away, but his pull was too strong. His fingers gently traced my forming bruises, causing him to furrow his brow in anger. “You’re pretty banged up. Anything else hurting?” he asked, his voice rough with worry.