SONS OF ANARCHY meets BREAKING BAD (but make it gay).
***
Young and naïve, Everett's preference for bad boys lands him under the protection of a handsome biker named Knox, aka The Beast. When a dangerous new attraction blossoms, will...
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❥ KNOX'S POV
The police haven't divulged any further details surrounding Knox's arrest, leaving him to grapple with the unanswered questions swirling in his head.
He sits alone in the cold interrogation room, his hands cuffless and clenched into tight fists on the metal table as his mind replays the night of Hayes' murder.
He'd thought he and Finn covered their tracks flawlessly.
They'd been cautious, parking several blocks away from Hayes' house and sticking to the shadows as they approached. Dressed in all black, their faces concealed by ski masks, they had taken every precaution to maintain anonymity. Sure, instinct took over and Knox had to kick the door in when he heard Finn struggling inside. But the prospects had cleaned everything up afterward, even repairing the busted door frame.
Knox had been confident they covered all their bases.
But now, as he sits in this dank interrogation room, doubt begins to creep in, insidious and persistent.
What if a nosy neighbor saw or heard something and reported it? Had Hayes anticipated Knox's retaliation and set a trap to somehow record his demise? The possibilities are endless, each scenario playing out in vivid detail in Knox's mind.
The uncertainty is maddening, and the silence around him doesn't make it any better. But Knox isn't stupid.
The cops know exactly what they're doing by leaving him alone for all this time, the slow tick of the clock on the wall meant to make him anxious, make him slip and incriminate himself when they finally start to question him.
His phone was taken immediately upon arrival, so he has no clue how long he's been sitting and waiting. No one has stopped by to see if he's still alive and breathing. No one has offered him anything to eat or drink. The most the pigs have done is remove his handcuffs. Standard police pressure tactics.
Still, time crawls by at an agonizing pace.
He almost drifts off to sleep by the time the door creaks open and a grizzled detective strolls in carrying a digital recorder, a notepad, and a thick manila folder.
Without a word of introduction, the detective takes a seat across from Knox, his demeanor cold and calculating. He pulls out a stack of photos from the folder and slides the first one toward Knox.
"Let's not waste any more of my time, Mr. Hansley," the detective says, his tone dripping with condescension. "I got these images from CCTV footage of the Trivelle area, which I'll be more than happy to show if you think I'm bullshitting. But what I would first like to know is if you recognize this vehicle."
Knox glances down at the blurry screenshot, the black and white image of his truck is captured cruising down a street near Hayes' neighborhood. The grainy quality does little to obscure the familiar contours of his vehicle.
