Chapter Five
CAMDEN
Itake my seat at the head of our table inside church; Sin to my right, Malice to my left, and Wrath, Noose, Rolo, and Rogue filling in.
All fucking five of them are looking at me like they don’t recognize me, and I’m sure right now, I don’t even recognize myself.
Locking up a woman in a bedroom is not something any of us would ever do.
Even if this one is extraordinary, fierce, and whose strength rivals that of everyone here.
I take a moment to think, my eyes tracing over the Hell’s Heathens insignia burned into the middle of our custom-built table.
A skull with a slanted crown, a dagger slicing straight through the top of the head and coming out the bottom of the chin.
The patch that is so sacred to each of us, burned into our very beings.
We’re Hell’s Heathens. Forged in fire, bound by blood, and loyal beyond the grave.
We ride not for glory, but for each other.
In a world that turned its back on us, we chose brotherhood.
We protect our own, stand for what’s right when no one else will, and never leave a Heathen behind.
Family isn’t born; it’s earned on the road.
Home is the clubhouse; family is the cut.
We live and die for each other. The only way out is back through hell’s gates.
I repeat it over and over, the words that are ingrained in my soul, the oath that means more to me than anything that’s left in this world, and I wonder if I’m going to sit in front of my brothers and withhold the truth, or lay it all out for them, as batshit crazy as it is.
My eyes flick up to Rolo, then to Rogue, the only two men who have taken on old ladies, the only two who have given their hearts to queens.
I know they’d understand, but how can I lead, how can I protect, with such a heady distraction?
Even now, I feel this pull at a molecular level to go back to her, to talk with her, hear her voice, even if she’s using it to tell me to fuck off.
“Who is she?” Rogue’s deep voice breaks through the quiet stillness that’s consumed the room.
“She tailed me, and when I got right outside of town, I was full tilt, pushed my bike harder than I ever have before.”
“And you didn’t lose her?”
“Didn’t know it was a her, I should add.
But no, couldn’t shake her. She stayed on me, and hard.
Rode her bike better than most of you,” I say, covering my smirk with my tattooed hand, rubbing my fingers over the thick scruff of hair at my jaw.
She did ride it better than all of them; hell, she almost rides better than I do.
I know they can hear the pride in my voice but won’t call me on it.
“I knew I wasn’t gonna shake her, so I needed to face her.
Drew my gun, pointed it right at her damn head as she climbed off her bike and removed her helmet. ”
“Bet that was a surprise.”
“Definitely realized I’m a sexist asshole, ’cause I was about to put a bullet in a man’s head, and seeing her climb off? I stumbled, but not just out of shock that a woman was riding just as good, if not better, than me. Seeing her felt like my heart was suddenly jump-started.”
The room is eerily quiet, nothing but breathing to be heard, and I don’t dare look up from the detailed skull on the table, my eyes tracing over the intricately placed lines of the dagger striking through the skull. Then it happens—the room roars to life in fucking laughter. Bastards.
“I’m wheezing!” Sin belts out as he slaps the table.
“You’re fuckin’ lying, right? Prez finally got a sense of humor?”
“I can’t explain it. I don’t know who the fuck she is, or why she tried to cuff me.
There’s no way she’s a cop. She knew my full legal name, and she planned on taking me with her.
But I’m obsessed. No one has ever stood up to me the way she did, without balking for a second.
Not an ounce of fucking fear of what I could potentially do to her on the side of the road in the middle of bumfuck America. ”
“She’s ballsy, I’ll give her that,” Sin says.
“She’s fucking perfect. Strong, fierce, confident, she’d make a fine queen.”
“A fine queen? Are you the fucking King of England? Who are you and what have you done with our president? Blink twice if Chaos is still in there or if he’s been taken over by aliens,” Wrath says.
“Fuck off, show me some goddamn respect. I don’t know what the hell is happening.”
“Sounds like love at first sight,” Rogue finally speaks up as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Love at first sight. There’s no fucking way.
I don’t love anything but my bike and this club.
But then a vision of her dressed in leather, her long black hair floating in the wind as she mouths off to me without an ounce of fear, flashes behind my eyes.
I’d get on my fucking knees for that woman, and I don’t even know her name.
“I contacted Jazz and the other presidents, let them know we’ve had something come up. Jazz is willing to call us after and give us the lowdown, but they aren’t rescheduling.”
“Fuck,” I huff. “I figured as much. Everyone would have been on their way already. We’re gonna have to keep taking care of ourselves and hope the Willow Killer doesn’t come to our doorstep.”
“So what’s the plan? With the girl, I mean. What are you gonna do?”
I don’t bother correcting him that that’s no girl in my bedroom, she’s all woman. My woman.
“Get to the bottom of it.”
I find a prospect who’s been with us for about a year standing outside my door with his phone in his hand, looking down at the screen.
He’s a good kid; young, smart, trustworthy.
His sandy brown hair reminds me of my brother’s, and his eagerness matches what Lucas was like.
Hell, Lucas was this kid’s age when he was brutally taken from me.
Probably why I haven’t gone easy on him; he needs to know exactly what kind of life he’d be signing up for if he’s voted in.
There’s only one way out once you become a Heathen—death, and even then, our vows extend it.
“Any issues?”
“None. Lots of screaming for you to let her out, but I ignored her, and no one’s been over here since you left.”
I nod slowly. I don’t know whether to be pleased or horrified that he listened to a woman scream her head off for the last hour, and he ignored it to follow my instructions blindly. “Good. I’ve got it from here. Go see if Sin needs anything, then you’re on patrol.”
His eyes go wide for a split second, and I know I’m punishing him for something I told him to do, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve spent less than two hours with this woman, and she’s already fucking with my head and how I think.
“Sounds good, Prez.”
Walking into my bedroom, I find her exactly where I left her.
Her hands are still firmly handcuffed above her head, hair now a wild mess of black tangles around her face.
The leather jacket has partially unzipped, giving me a glimpse at the swell of the top of her perky breasts.
It’s clear she’s been thrashing around, trying to free herself.
She looks like ruination.
She looks like destruction.
She looks like chaos.
“What’s your name?” I ask her as I pull my hair free of the top bun and let it fall around my shoulders.
“Saige.” Saige. I repeat the name over and over in my head, a smirk moving over my face. It suits her. Beautiful. Strong. “What’s that stupid face for?”
“Didn’t think you’d answer me.”
“Figured it was only fair you knew mine, I guess.”
“Since you already know mine. And how is that, by the way?”
“That’s all you’re going to get out of me. You plan on keeping me here forever or just until you kill me?”
“Now, vixen, why would I do that?”
“That’s what people like you do. They harm. Pillage. Destroy.”
“And you have such familiarity with people like me?” She doesn’t answer me, which only fuels my desire to know more.
Instead of pushing, I walk into my en suite bathroom and get ready for bed.
As I brush my teeth, I open the cabinet beneath the sink and look for a spare toothbrush.
I should let her in here, I should help get her out of her uncomfortable jacket, let her use the restroom, but I don’t trust her.
This woman is a natural-born fighter, and she’s not going to make it easy on me.
If I want to get to the bottom of who she is and what she wants with me, I’m going to have to let her be uncomfortable.
My heart pangs violently against my ribcage at the thought, rejecting it at my core.
For years, I’ve had no problem being cruel, ruthless, and brutal when I need to be and to people who deserve it.
But one glance at the smoke show currently lying on my bed, and my conscience has suddenly reared its ugly head. I don’t have time to have a conscience. Not when my brothers’ lives are at stake. Not when women live here of their own free will, trusting that I’ll keep them safe.
With that thought front and center, I toss the toothbrush back inside the cabinet and slam the door closed.
After doing my business, I walk back into the room, finding her sitting up, staring at me with a look so fierce it could cut glass.
It’s then that I notice the blood, and all other thoughts fly right out the fucking window.
I move to her quickly, my fingers wrapping around a single wrist and examining the dried blood streaked down her forearms.
“How did this happen?” I growl, pissed at seeing her hurt. “Did someone come in here?”
“And what if they did?”
“I’d fucking kill them, right in front of you and lay them at your feet to beg for forgiveness.” Saige’s eyes bounce between my own, reading me, trying to look for any reason to doubt the truth and sincerity my words hold. I meant every word. “Did someone hurt you?”