Chapter 10
Rocco
The clubhouse feels different now, like the air’s lighter, even with the usual stink of motor oil and stale beer hanging around.
The men are scattered across the room, some nursing beers, others laughing over a card game, but there’s a buzz of relief after the fight at the Fury’s hideout.
We took a hit, but we’re still standing, and I’m here, not as a traitor but as one of them.
My chest’s tight, not from fear anymore, but from something heavier—gratitude, maybe, or the weight of finally being free.
I’m standing by the bar, my boots scuffing the worn floorboards, watching Tank talk to Arch and Kash across the room.
His broad shoulders fill out his frame so magnificently it’s making me hard just staring, his dark hair graying at the edges, and those eyes—hard but warm when they land on me—make my heart kick like a bike engine.
Damn, I’m lucky it all worked out.
The club, Tank.
Everything…
But a part of me is still reeling from the factory, from facing my father and choosing Tank over him. Marco’s gone, wheeled away with his broken dreams of the Fury’s comeback, and I said my goodbye.
It wasn’t easy—his cold eyes, his bitter words, calling me a traitor—but it’s done.
I’m done with him too, with his hate, with the chain he tried to tie me to.
But it’s Tank’s mercy, letting Marco live, that’s got me all messed up. I expected blood, expected him to end it, but he didn’t.
And it was all for me.
I catch Tank’s eye, and he breaks away from Arch and Kash, heading toward me. His walk is all power, like he owns the room, but there’s a softness in his face that’s just for me. He stops close, his hand brushing my arm, and the contact sends a shiver through me.
“You okay, kid?” Tank asks, his voice low, rough, like gravel under tires.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I just… I need to say something.” I take a breath, my hands clenching at my sides.
“Me and my father—we’re done. For good. He wanted me to be his weapon, to kill you, but I couldn’t.
And you…” My voice cracks, and I hate how raw it sounds, but I push on.
“You showed him mercy, Tank. After everything he did, everything I was supposed to do, you let him live. I don’t know how to thank you for that. ”
Tank’s eyes soften, and he steps closer, his hand settling on my neck, warm and steady.
“Didn’t do it for him,” Tank says, his voice quiet but firm. “I did it for you. Killing him would’ve broken something in you, and I couldn’t let that happen. You make me a better man, Rocco. Never thought I’d say that to anyone, but it’s true.”
My Daddy’s words hit like a punch, stealing my breath.
I look up at him, those dark eyes holding mine, and I feel it—the truth of us, the way we’ve changed each other.
“You make me better too,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I came here to destroy you, but you… you showed me what it means to be loyal, to care. I was lost, Tank, but you found me.”
He pulls me in, his hand tightening on my neck, and our lips crash together.
It’s not like the kiss at his place, all hunger and desperation—this one’s deeper, slower, like we’re pouring everything into it. His tongue moves against mine, his beard scraping my skin, and I melt into him, my hands fisting in his kutte.
The world fades—the clubhouse, the Wolf Riders, the past—just him, his heat, his strength, anchoring me. I can taste whiskey and smoke, feel the thud of his heart under my hands, and it’s like I’m home.
A loud cough cuts through the haze, and we break apart, my face burning.
Clay’s standing a few feet away, his arms crossed, a rare grin cracking his weathered face.
“Get a room, you two,” Clay says, his gravelly voice laced with amusement. “But first, Rocco, it’s time to prove you’re a Wolf. You gotta walk the Paddle Path.”
I blink, still catching my breath, my lips tingling from Tank’s kiss. “The what?”
Tank chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a thrill through me. “The Paddle Path, kid. It’s a Wolf Rider tradition. Every prospect’s gotta go through it to earn their place. You’ll see…”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool even though my stomach flips.
“What, some kind of hazing?” I smirk. “I’m not scared. Bring it on.”
Tank’s grin widens, but there’s a glint in his eyes, like he knows something I don’t.
“Oh, you say that now,” Tank laughs, now joined by Arch and Kash. “Wait till you see it.”
“Oh, we’re gonna paddle this cocky sonofagun,” Kash roars, fist bumping Arch and shotting Tank a knowing look.
Clay claps a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm.
“You held your own against the Fury, kid,” Clay says. “You chose us over your blood. That’s a start. But the Paddle Path? That’s where you prove you’re one of us, body and soul.”
The whole gathering of Wolf Riders are watching now, their faces a mix of smirks and anticipation.
Keegan’s grinning like a kid at a carnival, and Dylan—Clay’s boy—has got that quiet intensity, like he’s sizing me up, seeing what I’m made of. Arch leans against the bar, giving me a nod that feels like respect.
My heart’s pounding, not from fear—okay, maybe a little—but from the weight of this moment. I’m not just Marco’s son anymore. I’m not the guy who came here to kill.
I’m Rocco, and I’m about to become a Wolf.
Tank’s hand lingers on my back, steadying me.
“You got this,” he says, his voice low, just for me. “Whatever happens, I’m right here.”
I nod, my throat tight.
I don’t know what the Paddle Path is, but I know I’ll face it, for him, for us.
I’ve already walked through fire—my father’s hate, the Fury’s ambush, the truth that could’ve ended me.
This is just one more step, one more way to prove I belong here, with Tank, with the Wolves.
At Clay’s signal, I’m surrounded by Riders, each one tearing at my clothes like a wild pack. In less than sixty seconds, I’m butt naked, my body exposed as the men roar, cheer, and push me around.
“What the…” I gasp, suddenly aware of the senior men—Arch, Kash, Clay, and Tank too—with paddles in their hands, swishing them through the air. “Oh… fuck.”
And with much amusement, Tank lands the first paddle onto my naked bottom, drawing a howl from me and a cheer from everyone else.
It’s the first swat of many no doubt.
But like a true Wolf Rider I know what I need to do…
“Hooowooooooo!” I cry, hopping from foot to foot, my ass red and ready to take whatever my brothers can give. ‘Wolf Riders Forever!”
My ass is still on fire, the sting of the Paddle Path still throbbing through me as I stand in the clubhouse, the men’s cheers ringing in my ears.
The initiation was brutal, but it’s done.
I’m one of them now, a Wolf Rider, my place earned in sweat and pain.
Tank’s hand is on my shoulder, his grip firm, his eyes proud as he presses an ice cold can of beer on my butt, aiding with the process of cooling my throbbing butt.
The others—Clay, Arch, Kash, Keegan, Dylan and all the rest—are grinning, passing me a beer like I’ve always belonged. I take it, my hands shaky, and down half the bottle, the cold liquid soothing my raw throat.
Tank leans close, his breath warm against my ear.
“You took it like a champ, kid,” he says, his voice low, rough with that Daddy edge that makes my knees weak. “Ready for a ride?”
I nod, my heart still racing from the initiation and his nearness. “Hell yeah, big guy. Let’s get outta here.”
We step outside, the desert night sharp and cool, the stars blazing overhead.
Our bikes are parked side by side, his black Harley gleaming next to my repainted Fury ride. Before we mount up, Tank pulls me close, his hands framing my face.
“I love you, Rocco,” Tank says, his voice steady, like a vow carved in stone. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”
My chest tightens, and I grip his arm, pulling him closer.
“I love you too, Tank,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “You’re my home. Always will be. You’re my Daddy… forever.”
We kiss, quick but fierce, sealing it under the desert sky.
Then we swing onto our bikes, engines roaring to life, the rumble shaking the ground. We tear out of the lot, the wind ripping at my jacket, my sore ass protesting every bump but my heart soaring.
Tank is beside me, his presence a steady anchor, and we ride hard and fast, the road stretching out like freedom itself.
Headlights flare behind us, and I glance back to see Clay, Arch, Kash, Keegan, Nico, and the rest of the pack catching up, their bikes a thundering pack.
Clay’s at the front, his grizzled face lit with a rare grin, Arch’s hair whipping in the wind, Kash’s lean frame hunched over his ride like a predator stalking its prey.
The Wolf Riders are a force, unstoppable, our engines a war cry that echoes across the desert.
The town’s ours—every street, every bar, every shadow belongs to us.
I feel it in my bones, the power, the loyalty, the family I’ve found.
We race through the empty streets, the neon lights of bars and motels blurring past, our bikes a blur of chrome and leather.
Tank glances at me, his eyes glinting with pride, and I grin back, my heart full.
The Fury is gone, done. My father’s hate already a fading memory.
I’m a Wolf now, Tank’s boy, and nothing can touch us.
We ride into the night, together, unstoppable, the desert ours to claim…