The Girl at the Gas Station
“Who did this to you?”
The voice was low, steady, and almost gentle.
Hannah Blake could not answer.
She knelt on the wet concrete outside a gas station on Route 9, shaking so violently that her teeth clicked together. Rain ran down her face, mixing with blood from her split lip.
She had lost one shoe somewhere along the road.
Her cardigan was torn.
One eye was nearly swollen shut.
Her ribs screamed every time she breathed.
But none of that frightened her as much as the sound of the motorcycle that had just stopped behind her.
For three years, Hannah had learned what happened when someone approached her.
They laughed.
They threatened her.
They shoved her.
Or they promised to help and then quietly disappeared.
So when heavy boots approached, she instinctively pulled her arms over her head.
Then a massive man crouched in front of her.
He wore a black leather vest covered in patches.
Hells Angels. Raven Hollow Chapter.
His name was Cole Hunter.
He looked terrifying.
But his eyes were not.
They were filled with something Hannah had almost forgotten existed.
Concern.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
Hannah slowly opened her good eye.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
She stared at him.
“Nobody is going to touch you again tonight. Do you understand?”
She wanted to believe him.
God, she wanted to.
Cole removed his leather jacket and carefully placed it around her shoulders.
Then he noticed the bruises.
The swelling.
The fear.
His expression changed.
He had seen pain like this before.
Not exactly hers.
But enough to recognize it.
“Who did this to you?”
Hannah's lips trembled.
For a few seconds, she considered lying.
Then she whispered one name.
“Ethan.”
Cole waited.
“Ethan Grayson.”
The sheriff's son.
Cole's jaw tightened.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Hannah, I need you to stay with me.”
She nodded.
“I’m going to get you somewhere safe.”
For the first time in three years, Hannah reached for someone else's hand.
And this time, someone refused to let go.
Raven Hollow
To understand why Hannah Blake ended up bleeding in the rain, you had to understand Raven Hollow.
It was a small Montana town where everyone knew everyone.
There was one traffic light.
One high school.
One diner that had been in the Blake family for more than a decade.
And one sheriff who had ruled the town for almost twenty years.
Victor Grayson.
In Raven Hollow, his name carried weight.