Chapter 3
THREE
BLADE
I knock once, and the door opens fast, like she was standing there waiting.
Bella gives me her usual bright smile, messy brown curls tossed up in a bun, barely any makeup, and a worn hoodie paired with joggers that look soft as hell.
She’s casual and cozy and glowing in that new mom way.
I love that this woman settled Switch, I mean Switch, in a way no one else ever managed.
She softened the rough edges and gave him the family he never thought he’d have.
“Hey, Blade,” she says. “Get in here. They’re already running their mouths in the living room.”
I nod and step inside. “Figured.”
The smell hits me immediately. Cheese. Garlic.
Something baked and probably addicting enough to start a fight for leftovers.
It’s warm in here. Loud in the best way.
Classic Bella and Switch territory. This place always feels like home even if it’s not mine.
Maybe because it’s one of the few places that doesn’t expect me to be anything other than exactly who I am.
No front. No lies. Just the club and the people who figured out how to build a life around it.
I step into the living room. Rev and Switch are sprawled on the couches, beers in hand, grinning like the smug bastards they are.
“There he is,” Switch says, raising his bottle. “Didn’t think we’d see your greasy ass tonight.”
“Didn’t plan to come,” I mutter, dropping into one of the armchairs. “But your wife promised food and guilted me with that whole family dinner thing.”
Rev snorts. “Food’s the only thing that gets you to show up when Mason’s not breathing down your neck.”
“Pres isn’t here to babysit,” I say with a smirk. “Thank fuck for that.”
Mason, the president of the Iron Reapers MC, is the one who brought me in. He taught me how to survive this life and how to run with purpose. I owe the man more than I’ll ever repay. It’s still nice to breathe without his eyes burning holes into the back of my head.
“He’s coming too,” Switch says. “Bringing Carlie and the twins.”
I groan and shift in my seat. I’m still wearing the day.
Jeans. Biker boots. My faded Iron Reapers tee that smells like metal and shop grease.
It’s not that I don’t care about the guy.
He’s also my boss. I spent all day wrenching on a custom build that fought me harder than most. My hands still ache. I don’t mind. Work keeps my head quiet.
Rev leans forward. “Speaking of Mason. There’s shit going down.”
Switch grunts. “Town’s shifting. You feel it?”
Yeah. I do. In my bones.
Rev cracks his neck. “More overdoses than usual. The hospital’s been buzzing. Two in the last week. Kids. One barely eighteen.”
My shoulders tense.
Perdition’s not a clean town. We all know that. But we keep our streets in line. The Iron Reapers don’t deal. Not now. Not ever. It’s a hard line we don’t cross. Drugs creeping in under our noses? That’s a problem.
“What’s the source?” I ask.
“Not local,” Switch replies, tapping his finger against his beer bottle. “The stuff’s too pure. Not cut with the usual garbage. New pipeline. Someone with real money backing it.”
Rev nods. “And it’s not a one off situation. It’s spreading. High school. College. Even some middle aged idiots trying to relive their glory days. Whatever they’re pushing is strong.”
Switch rubs his jaw. “Three arrests last week. Sheriff’s department is scrambling. They’re understaffed. And corrupt. Half the time, they show up late. The other half, they look the other way if there’s cash involved.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “College kids?”
Rev eyes me. “Yeah. You noticed, then.”
I lean back. “I’ve been seeing the same group rolling into Perdition every weekend. Loud. Entitled. Throwing money around. Acting like they own the place.”
Switch gives a humorless laugh. “Rich kids with daddy’s trust funds who think they’re untouchable. Yeah. That group.”
“They’re runners,” I say.
Rev’s gaze sharpens. “Exactly what I thought.”
“Testing us,” I add. “Seeing how far they can push without getting checked.”
“Whose territory are they bouncing from?” Switch asks. “Not Black Vipers. They move different. Rage Crew’s been quiet.”
“No patches,” I say. “No visible backup. Someone’s using them to feel out new ground.”
Rev’s expression turns dark. “Someone stupid or someone who thinks we’re soft.”
We all know the answer.
Neither is good.
Switch takes a long drink. “Mason knows. He’s got eyes on it. The cops won’t do anything unless someone drops dead in the middle of Main Street. And even then, they’ll blame the user.”
I grind my teeth. “Kids are dying.”
“And more will,” Rev says. His voice is flat. “If we don’t shut it down.”
Most people don’t get us. They see bikers and MCs and assume we’re nothing but dangerous men who lurk in shadows and wear our sins like armor.
They think it’s all guns and women and illegal deals.
Truth is, we do run some of that, and we don’t pretend otherwise, but drugs aren’t on our menu.
That line isn’t blurry. It’s concrete. Drugs kill kids and mothers and entire families.
Every one of us has lost someone because of that poison, and we’ll be damned before we let it take root in our streets.
“You think they’ll try pushing in Perdition again?” I ask.
Switch shrugs. “If they’re stupid.”
Rev lifts his beer. “Young ones are always stupid.”
Silence settles between us, thick and heavy, like the air’s holding its breath and waiting for something to snap. The front door creaks open before anyone can answer, and voices carry in from the entryway.
I hear her before I see her. Light. Warm. A spark that hits dead center. “Hey. I come bearing cupcakes instead of actual cooking skills. You’re welcome.”
Bella laughs. “God bless you. We needed something sweet.”
I look automatically. Of course I do.
She walks in with a bakery box, cheeks flushed from the cold, dark hair styled in soft waves that probably took more effort than she’ll admit.
She wears a fitted shirt, jeans, and boots.
Nothing flashy. Nothing dramatic. Yet every inch of her demands attention without trying.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. She hasn’t looked like a kid in a long time, and I shouldn’t be staring.
She’s Bella’s little sister. Younger. Bright.
Hopeful. The kind of woman who deserves someone who isn’t covered in scars, inside and out.
Bella grins at us. “Wow. I leave you three alone for five minutes, and you already look like trouble.”
Rev smirks. “We were born this way.”
Bri rolls her eyes. “Sure.” She heads toward the kitchen, and her gaze flicks to mine for a split second.
It lands like a punch straight to the ribs, and when that half smile tugs at her lips, something in my chest cracks open in a way I don’t want to inspect too closely.
Switch lifts an eyebrow, like he’s noticed more than he’ll say, but he stays quiet. Smart man.
I lift my beer and pretend I don’t care while my pulse gives me away.
Brianna Calloway is off limits and always has been.
She’s younger and practically family and too damn good for someone like me.
Me crossing that line wouldn’t just be messy.
It would blow everything up. She deserves better than a man who’s lived the life I have.
She’s light where I’m not. She laughs easily, and I barely remember how.
She believes in a future, and I stopped letting myself imagine one a long time ago.
Even with all that, I keep looking. I keep wanting. And that’s the problem I can’t shake. I can’t stop.