Chapter Eleven
THE MORNING CAME too fast. Light slipped through the blinds, gold and soft across the room, but it felt too bright — too exposed.
Today was the day. My first shift at High Voltage.
I sat on the edge of the bed, twisting the silver bracelet around my wrist, one of the only things I kept from that hell, a gift from a mother I barely remember. The metal was smooth under my fingers, something solid when everything else still felt uncertain.
The sound of bikes outside drifted faintly through the window, low rumbles that seemed to echo through the floorboards. The clubhouse was already alive, laughter, music, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen. This place never slept.
I should’ve felt ready. I’d told myself I was. But the thought of walking into that bar, surrounded by strangers, men who lived by their own rules, made my stomach twist.
I’d been watched my whole life. Judged, punished, trained to obey. Now no one was watching, and somehow that felt just as terrifying.
I dragged in a breath, rubbing my palms against my shorts. “You can do this,” I whispered. “You’ve survived worse.”
A knock sounded on the door.
Before I could answer, a familiar voice called softly, “Hey, you up?”
I opened the door to find Sable standing there, coffee mug in one hand, her dark hair braided over her shoulder. She looked more rested than the last time I’d seen her, softer somehow, but her eyes still held that same quiet understanding that only someone from our world could carry.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning,” she echoed, stepping inside. “Lucy told me today’s your first shift.”
“Yeah.” I tried to smile. “Guess it’s time to start pretending I know what I’m doing.”
Sable handed me the mug. “Start with caffeine. Pretend later.”
I took it, grateful for the warmth seeping into my hands. “You ever get used to it? Being out here?”
She leaned against the dresser, thinking for a moment. “Used to it, yeah. But it’s not something you stop feeling completely. The noise, the people, the freedom, it’s a lot after growing up in silence.”
I nodded. “Sometimes I still wake up and think I’m there.”
“Me too,” she admitted quietly. “Some nights, I still smell the smoke.”
That made my throat tighten. “It doesn’t go away, does it?”
“No,” she said, meeting my eyes. “But it gets easier to carry.”
We stood there for a moment, both quiet.
Then she smiled, small but real. “Zeke helps. Having someone who understands, who doesn’t treat me like I’ll break… that makes it easier.”
“I don’t have a Zeke,” I said before I could stop myself.
Sable tilted her head. “No. But you’ve got you. And that’s more powerful than you think.”
Her words landed right where I needed, not comfort, but truth.
“I’m here, though,” she added, softer now. “Anytime you need to talk. About the past, the nightmares, the fire — any of it. You’re not alone in that anymore.”
I swallowed hard, the tightness in my chest easing just a little. “Thanks, Sable.”
She pushed off the dresser and gave me a soft smile. “You’re brave, Lark. To do what you did to get us out, that took a strong woman. So, stop worrying, you’ll be fine.”
When she left, the room felt different — not lighter exactly, but better.
I looked at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair back. For a moment, I saw the sixteen-year-old girl I used to be — scared, obedient, small.
Then I blinked, and she was gone.
In her place stood the woman I had become. Someone who learned to stand her ground, even when she shouldn’t have.
I grabbed my jacket, squared my shoulders, and whispered to my reflection, “You’ve got this.”
And for the first time, I believed it.
***
LUCY PICKED ME up mid-morning, engine rumbling and music loud enough to drown out the noise in my head.
She introduced me to her friend Oliver, who rode with us.
The ride into Charleston was quick, one of those sun-bright, wind-blown stretches that blurred past in light and nerves and too many scattered thoughts.
Lucy talked most of the way, which helped. She filled the drive with everything I needed to know, about the guys, the club, the bar, what to expect, who to ignore, and how Spinner was “definitely behaving but absolutely always on thin ice.”
By the time we pulled into the lot outside High Voltage, my pulse had settled, but my palms were damp. Not with fear, fear was something I knew too well, but with the alertness that came from stepping into a world I didn’t understand yet but was determined to face head-on.
The place looked nothing like I’d expected. It wasn’t a dark dive crawling with problems. It looked… intentional. Brick walls. Clean glass. Metal trim catching the morning light. The neon sign glowed red and black: High Voltage.
Bold. Confident. Alive.
A place that felt like it wanted to be seen.
Lucy threw the car into park and grinned. “Here we are, Lark. Time to make some money and maybe even attract some hot men.”
“Lucy,” Oliver groaned. “Don’t scare her.”
“Scare Lark?” She shot me a warm look. “Please. She’s tougher than both of us.”
I huffed out a laugh and tightened my grip on my purse. “I can handle this.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can handle anything,” she said. “And if not, I’ll sic Spinner on whoever gives you grief.”
Right on cue, the low rumble of a Harley cut through the air. Spinner pulled in beside us, swung off his bike, and slid his sunglasses up just enough to look at me.
“Wasn’t gonna miss your first day,” he said. “You’ll do fine. Chain runs a clean place.”
His reassurance helped… until we stepped inside.
Music pumped through hidden speakers, the bass a low, unwavering throb under my feet.
Chain was already behind the bar with a clipboard, a dark shirt stretched under his cut, those tight blue jeans, expression calm but focused. He looked up as we walked in.
His gaze found me first—quick, assessing—something sparking there before he smoothed it away.
The shift was small, but I felt it run straight down my spine.
I tugged at the hem of my blue High Voltage t-shirt, suddenly aware of my bare legs in the shorts Lucy insisted I wear.
I’d only worn long dresses for years. These felt… exposed.
But he didn’t look displeased.
“Mornin’,” Chain said in that slow and easy drawl. “Good to see Lucy didn’t kill you with her drivin’.”
Lucy grinned. “Told you I’d get her here alive. Why does everyone act like I’m reckless?”
Spinner snorted. “Because you are.”
Chain ignored them and motioned for me to follow. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”
The bar opened into a long stretch of warm wood and metal. Pool tables lined one wall, booths tucked into the back, staff moving around already, prepping, laughing, settling into the rhythm.
Chain walked with that quiet authority that seemed baked into his bones. “Kitchen’s through here,” he said with a nod. “Storage is off the hall. You clock in over there, and Ruby’ll walk you through rotation.”
He nodded toward a woman arranging condiments at the bar. She looked up and smiled—red hair braided, freckles dusting her nose.
“Hey, you must be Lark,” Ruby said, wiping her hands. “I’m your shadow buddy for the day. Don’t worry, we’ll get you through this alive.”
“Thanks,” I said, relieved by her ease.
Ruby leaned in close. “Stay out of Roxanne’s way. She thinks she owns the place. Or—y’know—the man who runs it.” She winked.
Her tone was playful, but the warning underneath had teeth.
I followed her gaze. Roxanne stood at the far end, sorting receipts, pretty in that deliberate way women like her always were. She lifted her eyes, landed them on me, and smiled without warmth.
“Hey,” she said smoothly. “Hope you don’t steal tips.”
Her gaze skimmed my body, pausing hard on the scar along my cheek—clinical, judgmental, dismissive.
“I don’t need the pennies,” I said before I could stop myself.
Ruby barked out a laugh. “You’ll fit right in.”
Chain had been listening, his expression still unreadable. “Don’t overstep, Rox.”
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t have to. Calm. Sure. Final. The kind of tone that warmed my skin in ways I was starting to like.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Roxanne said, her smile tightening with the lie.
The rest of the tour went fast, kitchen, supply room, exits, register. Chain talked me through everything in that sexy southern drawl of his, the kind that made it dangerously easy to listen. He didn’t rush, didn’t hover, just trusted me to keep up.
By the time we circled back to the front, Lucy, Spinner, and Oliver were lounging in a corner booth, Spinner’s arm slung around her shoulders while she scrolled her phone with the ease of a woman who knew exactly where she belonged.
Lucy looked up. “Well? You alive?”
“Still breathing,” I said.
“See?” She lifted her glass. “Piece of cake.”
Chain passed behind me then, his hand brushing lightly against my shoulder. Barely a touch. Maybe accidental. But heat flickered beneath my skin all the same, my breath catching before I could control it.
He stopped beside me, close enough I felt the warmth of him. “You’ll do fine, Lark. Ruby’s one of the best. You’ll learn quick.”
“Thanks,” I managed, hoping my voice didn’t betray the full-body awareness he always seemed to strike just by standing near me.
Lucy smirked over her drink like she’d caught every second of that.
I rolled my eyes and turned toward Ruby. “Okay. Show me what I’m supposed to do before I start proving everyone wrong.”
Ruby tossed me an apron. “Now that is the spirit.”
I caught it, and that slow, warm pulse of confidence I’d felt slipping earlier settled deeper. Maybe I could really do this. Maybe this was the start of something that didn’t hurt to want.