As we disappear into the night, engines thundering in perfect synchronization, I realize my mates understand.
They're not trying to contain this version of me.
They're riding with me.
I veer off the main road onto a narrow mountain trail, the kind most people wouldn't even notice in daylight. The Softail handles the terrain like it was built for it—tight curves, loose gravel, steep inclines that would make most riders nervous. I'm not most riders.
River and Cade stay in formation, their engines growling behind me as we climb deeper into the mountains.
"Where exactly are we going?" Cade's voice crackles through the comms.
"Ricky Chains Donovan's place," I call back. "Old OG biker. Rook said he might have information about the military operation hunting destroyer wolves."
River's engi
