The second Blade confirmed the brakes had been cut and the entire property shifted into something colder and meaner while everybody crowded around the damaged bike near the garage with expression dark enough to kill.
The rider who went down sat against the wall nearby while Mason wrapped his shoulder tightly and blood still stained the side of his jeans from where he slammed across the road.
“You’re lucky you didn’t snap your damn neck.” Heath muttered.
“Yeah, well, luck sucks.” The rider shot back through clenched teeth.
I crouched beside the bike while grease coated my fingers and the twisted brake line sat exposed beneath the frame like somebody had delibrately left behind a warning.
Because they had.
“They cut it clean. This wasn’t rushed.” I said while tracking the damaged
