“Well, we’re in bed with the Bratva now, so whatever needs to be done, we need to make sure we don’t piss them off in the process.” Khaos taps his temple. “What if—now hear me out before you all pop off on me. We hack their system? Anonymous would be in because last I checked, Skully still harmed women and children in The Institution.”

Smart little fucker.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I knew sleep wasn’t going to be easy tonight, but I expected at least an hour or two. Reaching for my phone, I open a text from an unknown number.

Meet me at the turnoff. You know which one. And come alone. I throw my blanket off my body, sliding out of bed and shuffling on a Wolf Pack hoodie and yoga pants. Wolf snores peacefully, unaware, but I know Wicked is downstairs. Do they have people on the gate when they do church? I guess I’m about to find out.

I type out a reply, This better be important, before calling Betty quickly to tell her I am leaving and to come sleep in our room.

Tiptoeing through the courtyard, I squeeze the handle to my G-Wagon and slide into the driver’s seat. Popping open the compartment drawer, I check the Nine that’s in there and push it into the band of my yoga pants before starting the car and reversing out of the park, driving forward.

A young man with an unpatched leather cut appears around the corner, squinting his eyes to look into the car.

“Fuck.” I wind the window down, plastering on a fake smile. “Hey! I’ve got to head out and pick something up from the town. Open up.”

He’s young with curly hair and innocence on his face. Poor kid probably has no idea what he’s getting into. “I don’t know… Wicked said no one leaves or enters.”

“Mmhmm… and who am I?” I ask, brows arched.

“Wicked’s old lady?”

“Correct. Open the gate, please.”

He nods, rushing off to the gate and flicking it open. I take no time accelerating and zipping off down the road. There would be no way that Wicked would allow me to leave without him, but this is my business, not his. I have to handle it the way I know how. The way I was raised to handle it. I watch as trees pass by the faster I go. Turning down the familiar roads, I wait until the gates come into view, this time all the lights off. Memories of when I was a kid, and ran safely around the property, being his perfect little girl fill my brain and tears fall down my cheeks as I drive the G-Wagon through the gates. I’m angry that I care. That I’m not as emotionless and heartless as I pretend to be. “Dammit, Mama.”

I park next to his car, opening my door and sliding out.