As I stood listening to the distant sound of cars passing, trying to avoid standing in any discarded trash or touching the damp, mold-covered wall, I was beginning to regret this. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time, reiterating our meeting conditions over and over in my mind despite knowing I was on time and in the right place. I wanted to text him that I was here because I hated to be kept waiting. But I held back, knowing that it was dangerous enough as it was.

I grew impatient as the clock hand told me he was ten minutes late. I paced up and down the alley, my pulse spiking every time I heard someone walk past the open alleyway. Some would give me a passing look, but thankfully, this wasn’t Fellpeak and nobody knew me here. I was in our neighboring city, which was almost four times the size of Fellpeak and, thus, gifted me the anonymity I needed. The bad thing was that this was Hell’s Runners’ territory. Their compound used to reside in the town just north of us, but since the Grim Reaper’s took them over, they moved it into the city so they could have tighter control over their investments.

I just hoped to God none of them spotted me. The only ones who could possibly know who I was would be Chains, the Hell’s Runners’ puppet president, and Charon, who had been the one to put me in this stupid mess.

I was here running up my own lead, ignoring the warning Wolf had given me and not giving a shit about doing so. I was as much a part of that club as any of the boys, and I had the right to defend it as I saw fit. The only things that kept me apart were my big tits and two—not one—holes between my legs. I grew up with three brothers, and then and now, I let no man push me around.

Not even Wolf.

If the fat bastard thought he could get one over on me, he had another thing coming.

I heard footsteps behind me, and just as I was about to dismiss them as another passerby, I saw the shadow loom up under my feet.

I whirled to face the stranger hidden by a baggy hoodie with a logo I didn’t recognize and baggy tracksuit bottoms and shoes. They were about my height with my heels on, but as they shuffled into the alley, I still took a step back, just in case. They reached for the hood that had been almost entirely pulled over their face and looked up at me, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“You’re Lizard?” The words blurted out of my mouth.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He gave a weak laugh. The shrug of a smile he granted didn’t reach his eyes.

My surprise, however, was warranted as I looked at his face. He was a kid, barely older than eighteen or nineteen. His face still had zits on it! And here he was, dealing me shady information on a powerful opponent.

“You sounded older on the phone,” I said, looking down at the cell phone in my hands, wondering how I misjudged him so much. His voice was so crackly and worn, like an aged smoker, that I didn’t even consider he could be this young.

“Yeah, well, life’s a bitch, ain’t it.” Lizard shrugged, his voice filled with the devil-may-care attitude. “Now, quit with the small talk. It’s dangerous enough for me to be out here. Where’s the cash?”

I reached into my purse, pulling out the brown envelope filled with five thousand—a small price to pay for some big information in my books. I wasn’t even sure if he really understood how valuable this information was.

Lizard carefully counted the money, making sure the whole five thousand was there. I saw him pause and frown as he counted, struggling with the math.

When he finished counting, satisfied with the amount, he pocketed the cash in his back pocket and came closer. I hid my disgust at his smell and focused on his words.

“I told you on the phone about his investments,” he said, looking at me for confirmation.

“Yeah, some empty lots and real estates,” I answered, and he nodded.

“Well, shit’s actually way worse than that,” Lizard continued, reaching into his other pocket and pulling out a crudely rolled cigarette and what looked like an already used filter. He patted himself before looking to me. “You got a light?”

I pulled out the lighter I always kept on hand just in case I wanted to ever follow through with burning Wolf’s hair off and handed it over. He lit his cigarette and pocketed my lighter, but I didn’t say anything; I just waited for him to continue.

“He’s been taking over businesses; even some other MC clubs have been receiving offers from him, but from what I heard, they’re too cautious about the Grim Reaper’s stakes in the area to take them, though a few smaller clubs have come under his wings. He’s also been buying up all the empty factories and warehouses over in the industrial district. You know that one a few miles from here?”

I nodded; I knew the place. I knew Wolf also had a few businesses there, just small-time producers, one of the few legitimate investments belonging to the club.

“And?” I pushed.

“And he’s even got politicians in his pocket. Got word that he’s looking for something, and the Black Angels are key to getting it, whatever the fuck that means. But if I were you, I’d watch your back. Bastard seems to have bottomless pockets, and money can get you a great deal in this world.”

I didn’t like how many of Lizard’s claims came from word of mouth, but with how sneaky our enemy was being, it was difficult to think that there’d be a way to find any more solid information on him. “But what’s this thing he’s looking for?” I said.

Lizard was about to open his mouth when the sound of screeching tires filled our ears. The light coming in from the street was cut off and the door was opened with people jumping out the side of the van before I could even think to move.

Everything happened so fast, it was like a blur as guns were raised and the suppressed sound of gunfire echoed in the cramped alleyway. I looked to Lizard and watched as several red patches bled through the thick hoodie and his body crumbled to the ground.

I didn’t think twice about him as I whirled behind the trash containers for cover. A rain of bullets flew in my direction; the sound of them chewing through the metal to the other side of the bin drilled into my ears. I fumbled for my boot, my fingers finding the hole that acted as a handle before pulling out the blade. The handle was formed by four holes that worked as a secondary knuckle duster, but the end was a blade, and I fed my fingers into the holes just as someone stepped out in front of me.

Cold metal pressed against my forehead, and I looked up to see a man standing above me. His face was covered in a balaclava; only his dark eyes peered through. I recognized the stance and the all-black clothing choice and weapons as mercenary wear and knew immediately who these guys belonged to.

Just as I saw his eyes crinkle with smugness, thinking he’d caught me, I pressed the knife a little harder into the material. His eyes widened and dropped down as he looked to where my hand was pressing the blade hard against his crotch. The material was thinner in this area, and I read the regretful mistake in his eyes.

“Want to see whose reflexes are faster?” I growled, my eyes daring his trigger finger to even flinch. I had too much will to back down and refused to lose to a cowardly, shameful bastard like this. I pressed the blade harder and caused a tear in the material. “I don’t hesitate.”

“Come on!” a voice at the other end of the alley yelled. “Leave her! Let’s go!”

I watched the battle in his eyes, reading his bloodthirsty want to kill me. The voice, a female one, I realized this time, yelled again, and the battle ended. He pocketed his weapon and stepped back, keeping his eyes trained carefully on me until he was just out of my reaching distance before he turned and ran back to the van.

He jumped in the back; then the van door closed and it screeched away.

I allowed myself a soft breath of relief, but an overlapping gasp from ahead of me had my heart racing hard. I slid my knife back into the edge of my boot, concealing it back in its place in the leather, and scrambled out of my hiding place.

My run stuttered as my eyes washed over the pool of blood bleeding into the gaps of the concrete and the upturned face of Lizard as he struggled to gasp for air. His voice gargled and blood spluttered up from his mouth. I ran to him, dropping my knees into the blood and fighting the shiver at the warmth of it absorbing into my jeans as I lifted his head and placed it on my lap.

“Shit!” I hissed, my hand pressing against one of the open bullet wounds, trying to stop it. But there were too many. He was riddled with holes that poured blood. I couldn’t understand how he hadn’t died already. When I heard a wheezed breath, I looked down to his face.

He had a few scars here and there, and despite his eyes looking aged beyond his years, I could see the child still in him. I saw his panic as he struggled to breathe. I saw the confusion as he wondered why there was liquid filling up his throat. I saw the moment of comprehension when he knew he would die.

Images too close to the surface threw themselves before me, but I shoved them down before they could catch me, choosing to focus on this boy here and now growing lifeless in my arms. I refused to look away from his eyes, whispering things over and over again to reassure him. I wouldn’t be able to remember what I said. I seemed to drown in the numbness anchoring me inside my own head, where no thoughts could comprehend what was happening. There was just this raw, painful emotion that made me feel heavy and filled to the brink of bursting.

But I didn’t think about it. I just watched as the surreal image of this boy dissolved into nothing. His shaking limbs lost their strength and settled beside him. His chest, shivering and desperately reaching for breath, slowed to stillness. His quivering mouth relaxed. And unlike in the movies, his eyes were open as his life left them. He was looking up at me, and that’s where they remained. In them, I saw a reflection of my face, where not even a single tear had dropped.

If the eyes captured their last look on life, his would contain an image of a woman who didn’t even cry while a kid died in her arms. And knowing that look in the world he grew up in, he’d realized that he wasn’t the first person I’d watched die.