The photograph stayed stuck in my head and every time I walked outside I looked over my shoulder. Every time a car slowed near the truck stop, I always noticed. I noticed everything.
The color of the vehicle, faces in crowds and people standing too long in parking lots.
The feeling never left. Razor had turned me into prey and the worst part was that he wanted me to know it.
A week after the photo appeared on the clubhouse gate, I barely slept. Not because I was scared. At least that was what I kept telling myself.
The truth sat somewhere a little uglier. I wasn’t scared. I was waiting.
Waiting for the next attack, the next threat and the next body.
Knox noticed it immediately. Of course he did.
The man practically lived attacked to my side now.
I walked into the kitchen, Kno
