The property stayed unusally quiet after the fight in town and even the garage felt subdued while people cleaned blood off bikes and checked weapons under low yellow lights.
Nobody celebrated anymore and nobody acted untouchable anymore either.
The bombing at the gate had burned away whatever illusion of safety still existed and the silence hanging across the compound felt heavier because of it.
I sat on the back steps of the clubhouse with my boots resiting against the railing while an untouchable beer warmed slowly beside me. The cool night air helped dull some of the tension still crawling beneath my skin.
The fight earlier should have burned it out. Instead it made everything worse.
The screen door creaked softly behind me and I already knew who it was before Drake stepped out
