I would make this Prospect’s life a living hell.

I wrestled my attention back to Sawyer. He’d been quiet far too long, leaving me to wonder what he was thinking. That was a doorway into lunacy I wanted to avoid.

Was he suspicious?

We were all suspicious of newcomers, but Sawyer… Some days I’d call him paranoid. Reckless the next. Careless the following. And sometimes it changed hour-by-hour or minute-by-minute. That was one of the ways he maintained his power and authority—always being unpredictable and turbulent.

What was he plotting?

Caine shifted his gaze, first to me, then to his friend.

Sawyer finally relented. “Who have you ridden with?”

Trent’s stare didn’t waver. “My uncle taught me to ride before….” He glanced down. “He was with the Brothers of the Wheel until they dissolved.”

“Dissolved?” Sawyer laughed. “What a political way of putting it.” He lowered his tone. “They were slaughtered, worse yet, it was someone on the inside.”

Trent grimaced. “I’ve been laying low. Hard to move on when there’s no one to trust and no family to fall back on. My uncle always wanted me to join BOW, and working in the shop with Caine and Cannon has given me a piece of that brotherhood he always spoke of. Ignited my hunger for more.”

He was good. So good, I almost puked. Somewhat believable, but no one around here said what they meant. Laying out all your cards was always a bad idea. If you didn’t keep secrets close to the vest, first you lost your edge, then your life.

Always have a backup weapon. Never lie to a brother, but guard your secrets, and equally important, guard everyone else’s. I excelled at the secrets game, after all, that’s the only way I managed to get a patch in this male-dominated circus.

“Well, Trent, are you up for a run?” Sawyer asked. His voice had lost that grating, barking tone.

My eyebrows shot upward. Mother fucking incredulous jackass. From the look on his face, I guessed he made the offer just to screw with me. But I couldn’t believe the rat bastard would choose a Prospect over me on such an important run.

Then again, I could believe it. Not like it was anything new.

I had to bite my tongue. Pick your battles, I reminded myself. Choose the situation and audience with care or the punishment will be far worse. I had to carefully balance what I intended to gain with what I would certainly lose, and this battle wasn’t worth it.

One day.

One day…

“Yes, sir.” Trent smirked. “Anything you need.”

Too eager. Much as I enjoyed admiring his ink, I swore that one day I’d rip out his tongue and wipe that look off his face with it. I would make this Prospect’s life a living hell.

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