He looks at me like he wants to own me. I'm not one to be owned. He's not one to be denied. I never understood the draw of the biker scene. In fact, knowing what I did, I hated it. But Pops swore if anyone could keep me protected, it was the Swords of the Infernal Night in New Orleans. A band of supernatural criminals who think women are possessions, if you ask me. And they haven't kept us safe. Pops is dead, but his murderers are...