Jace's POV
The tracker sat on the workbench between us, and the tiny red light continued blinking as though it had no idea how much trouble it had just exposed.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
The garage had been loud only minutes earlier, with engines cooling, medical equipment being packed away, and injured men moving between chairs, but now the entire room seemed frozen around that little black device.
I stared at it while the pieces started falling into place.
“They tracked us.” I said quietly as Ethan nodded.
“They tracked this motorcycle.” Ethan said.
“That's the same thing.” I said.
“Not necessarily. If they planted it before we left, they could have tracked the bike from the clubhouse to the harbour and back again.” Ethan replied, and he picked up the device with a pair o
