Old Lady of the Apex Crown

mel

lk into my quarters

om the gravel yard when French's voice hi

e private back room inside t

heavy motor oil hung in the air, overpowered by a sickl

ofa, two bodies scrambled

nd, hastily yanked his three-piece leath

yebrow twitched as his thick fin

blanket to her bare collarbone, wa

ary panic before settling into a s

erately slid down, resting pro

ocence. "Don't be mad at French. I... I was just so scared and lonel

y ribs, but my face remaine

am. I didn't

grease calluses on my palm, the sha

rown jewel growing inside it," I said, my v

is feet, buckling his heav

arrogance, a senior rider in this territory who genu

h sneered, stepping closer until his s

nsmission fluid. Your hands are covered in grease and steel burrs. You spend

he sofa with a haugh

fertile, and actually knows how to treat a man. She can give me an hei

s bloodshot eyes without blinking. "And you swore a Blood Oath in the Chur

the damn rules in this county!" he barked,

ep your name stitched on my colors. Your only job is to sign the checks, p

eaching for my leather jacket collar t

nch. I didn'

n to the heavy twelve-inch steel pipe wrench

n, I brought the solid iron bar

rough the room as the iron bar shattered

howled, his voice turni

fee table, scattering empty whiskey bottles across the floo

g deep into the sofa cushions and yanking th

I said, letting the heavy wrench slip from my finger

mottled shade of bruised purple as sweat po

reath. "You're a Harrington! You belong to the Rust Hounds! You wal

g directly onto Hettie, whose trembli

golden ticket, Hettie?" My voice cut

s. Because from this exact second, not a single gallon of high-octane fuel, not a sin

at him as if he were nothing mo

his clubhouse came from my sweat and my mother's est

dimly lit hallway, ignoring his muffled cu

aps froze instantly, dropping their eyes to the wooden counter the

commanded the nearest prospect without breaki

pect stammered, scramb

rossing the gravel yard directly to the reinforced

into the biometric keypad and hau

tacks of custom titanium alloy blueprints, racks of specialized machinin

or shut with a deafening boom and throwing

ff the terminal and boote

counts, and commercial credit routing codes flickere

ing off my marrow and bleeding my

starve them int