Chapter 5 - Hawk
Olivia's arms loosen from around my waist as I dismount, helping her off the bike. Her face is pale beneath her helmet, but her eyes are determined when she takes it off.
I note the position, cataloging details. Bumper stickers supporting the local high school football team. Gun rack in the back window, currently empty. Toolbox in the bed. Typical small-town tough guy shit.
"Remember the plan," I say, taking her helmet and securing it to the bike. "You speak your piece, make it clear it's over, and we leave. No arguing, no defending your decision. Just clean and final."
She nods, taking a deep breath. "I know. I can do this."
"And if he gets aggressive—"
"I move behind you and let you handle it." She meets my gaze steadily. "I remember, Tyler."
Hearing my real name from her lips still gives me a jolt. In the club, I'm always Hawk now. Tyler feels like someone from another lifetime. The kid who left Hope Peak for the military, not the man who returned with scars visible and invisible.
"Alright." I straighten my cut, making sure my knife is accessible. The gun stays hidden at the small of my back, a last resort I hope I won't need. "Let's do this."
We approach the bar, and I position myself slightly ahead of Olivia, my body angled to protect her. The instinct is automatic. The same protective stance I adopted in combat zones when moving with civilians.
Inside, Brady's is exactly what I expected.
Wood-paneled walls covered in sports memorabilia, the scent of beer and fried food heavy in the air.
About half the tables are occupied, mostly by men watching the games on various screens.
Country music plays from the jukebox, not loud enough to drown out the sports announcers.
Olivia tenses beside me, her eyes finding Devin immediately. He's at the bar, back to us, hunched over a beer and watching one of the screens. Two empty bottles sit in front of him already.
"There he is," she whispers, her voice tight with anxiety.
I place a steadying hand at the small of her back. "I see him. Take a deep breath. Remember what we discussed."
She nods, squaring her shoulders, and we move further into the bar. Heads turn as we pass, partly because we're not regulars, partly because of my cut. The Outlaw Order isn't based in Hope Peak, but our reputation travels.
We're about fifteen feet from Devin when he turns, as if sensing our presence. His eyes find Olivia first, widening with surprise, then narrowing with anger. Then his gaze shifts to me, to my hand at Olivia's back, to my cut, and his expression darkens further.
"What the fuck?" He slides off his barstool, beer forgotten. "Olivia, where the hell have you been? I've been calling you all night!"
He takes a step toward us, and I tense, ready to intervene. But Olivia stands her ground, chin lifted defiantly.
"I left, Devin. I'm not coming back."
He blinks, like he can't comprehend the words. Then his face twists with rage. "The fuck you're not. Who the hell is this guy?" He gestures at me dismissively. "Your new boyfriend? You fucking cheating on me, you little bitch?"
Several heads turn at the raised voice. Good. Witnesses might discourage him from getting physical.
"I'm not cheating on you," Olivia says, her voice remarkably steady. "I'm leaving you. Our relationship is over."
Devin's eyes dart between us, lingering on my cut. "Outlaw Order? Seriously? You left me for some biker trash?" He laughs, an ugly sound. "What, you think he's gonna protect you? You think you're better off with him?"
"This isn't about him," Olivia says firmly. "This is about you and me. And how you treat me."
"How I treat you?" Devin's voice rises. "I gave you everything! I took care of you after your parents died. I gave you a home, a life!"
"You gave me this," Olivia says quietly, pointing to the fading bruise around her eye. The simple gesture is more powerful than any shouting could be.
A muscle jumps in Devin's jaw. "That was an accident. You know I didn't mean—"
"It wasn't an accident," she cuts him off. "None of them were accidents. And I'm done pretending they were."
Devin's face darkens as he realizes she's serious. His gaze shifts to me, sizing me up, calculating his chances. I see the moment he notices my military bearing, the way I stand, the coldness in my eyes. He's a bully, but he's not stupid. He knows he's outmatched.
So, he tries a different tactic.
"Baby, come on." His voice softens, turning wheedling. "Let's talk about this at home. Just you and me. You know I love you. You know I'm sorry about what happened."
Olivia shakes her head. "No more talks. No more apologies. No more chances. It's over, Devin."
"Because of him?" Devin jerks his chin toward me, anger flaring again. "You leave for one night and already you're spreading your legs for this guy? Is that it?"
I feel Olivia stiffen beside me, but she doesn't take the bait. "This isn't about anyone else. It's about me not wanting to be afraid in my own home anymore."
"Afraid? Of me?" Devin laughs incredulously, playing to the onlookers now. "You hear this shit? My girlfriend disappears, blocks my number, shows up with some biker, and tries to make me the bad guy?"
"I think we're done here," I say, speaking for the first time. My voice is low, controlled, but with an edge that makes Devin's eyes snap to mine. "She's made her decision. Accept it and move on."
"And who the fuck are you to tell me anything?" Devin steps closer, puffing up his chest. "You think that vest makes you tough? You think I'm scared of you?"
"I think this conversation is over." I keep my voice even, but my stance shifts subtly, preparing for any sudden movements.
"The hell it is." Devin's eyes narrow. "Olivia, get over here. We're going home. Now."
"No." She doesn't flinch, doesn't back down. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Not now, not ever."
Something ugly twists in Devin's face. "You ungrateful cunt. After everything I've done for you—"
"Watch your mouth," I cut in, my voice dropping to a dangerous register.
"Or what?" Devin sneers, emboldened by the alcohol and the audience. "You gonna do something, tough guy? In front of all these people?"
I step forward, putting myself between him and Olivia. "If necessary."
The bartender, a heavyset man with a salt-and-pepper beard, calls out, "Take it outside if you're gonna have trouble. I don't want no fights in here."
"There won't be any trouble," I say, not taking my eyes off Devin. "We were just leaving."
"Olivia's not going anywhere with you," Devin insists, reaching past me to grab for her arm.
I move faster than he expects, catching his wrist before he can touch her. "Bad move," I say quietly, applying just enough pressure to make him wince. "Don't ever try to touch her again."
He tries to pull away, but I hold firm, increasing the pressure until I feel the bones in his wrist grind together. His face contorts with pain and fury.
"Let go of me, you son of a bitch," he hisses.
"Gladly. As soon as you understand the situation.
" I lean in closer, my voice pitched for his ears only.
"She's done with you. If you try to contact her, follow her, or come anywhere near her again, what I'm doing to your wrist right now will seem like a fucking caress compared to what I'll do to the rest of you. Are we clear?"
His eyes widen slightly at the cold promise in my voice. He's used to intimidating others, not being on the receiving end.
"You threatening me?" he asks, but there's a flicker of uncertainty now.
"Not a threat. A guarantee." I release his wrist with a slight push that makes him stumble back. "Walk away. Now. While you still can."
For a moment, I think he might actually listen to reason. Then his eyes drift to Olivia again, and something ugly and possessive flashes in them.
"This isn't over," he says, directing his words to her. "You think you can just walk away? After everything? You belong to me, Olivia. You always will."
"No, I don't," she says firmly. "I never did. Goodbye, Devin."
I begin to guide her toward the door, keeping myself between her and Devin. We've made it about halfway to the exit when I hear his footsteps behind us, fast and heavy.
"Don't you fucking walk away from me!" he shouts.
I spin around just as he lunges, his fist already swinging toward my face.
Combat instincts take over. I sidestep the punch, grab his extended arm, and use his own momentum to slam him face-first into the nearest table.
Glasses crash to the floor as Devin goes down hard, blood immediately spurting from his nose.
"Tyler!" Olivia's voice is tight with alarm.
"Get outside," I tell her, not taking my eyes off Devin. "Now."
For once, she doesn't argue, moving quickly toward the door.
Devin pushes himself up, blood streaming down his face, eyes wild with rage. "You're fucking dead," he spits, reaching behind him.
I see the glint of metal, a pocket knife, and move instantly.
Before he can fully extend the blade, I've closed the distance between us.
My first strike hits his wrist, sending the knife clattering to the floor.
My second is a short, brutal punch to his solar plexus that doubles him over, air whooshing from his lungs.
I grab him by the throat, forcing him upright and back against the wall. His eyes bulge as my fingers tighten just enough to make breathing difficult but not impossible.
"Listen carefully, you piece of shit," I say, my voice deadly quiet.
"This is your only warning. Stay away from Olivia.
Don't call her. Don't text her. Don't even think about her.
If I hear you've been anywhere near her, I will come back here and finish what you started today.
And trust me, you won't walk away from that. "
He claws at my hand, face reddening. I ease the pressure just enough to let him speak.
"Who... the fuck... are you?" he gasps.
"I'm the guy who's going to make your life a living hell if you don't leave her alone." I lean closer. "I'm the guy with brothers who know how to make people disappear. I'm the guy who's seen and done things that would give you nightmares for the rest of your pathetic life."
Fear finally registers in his eyes. Good. Fear is the only language men like Devin truly understand.
"She's protected now," I continue. "Not just by me. By my entire club. Remember that before you do anything stupid."
I release him suddenly, and he slumps against the wall, coughing and clutching his throat. The bar has gone completely silent, everyone watching the scene unfold.
"We clear?" I ask, stepping back but remaining ready.
He glares at me, hatred burning in his eyes, but the fear is still there too. He nods once, a jerky movement.
"Say it," I insist.
"We're clear," he rasps, voice rough from my grip.
"Good choice." I turn to the bartender, who's watching with wide eyes. "Sorry about the mess."
I toss a fifty on the bar to cover the broken glasses and walk out, not bothering to look back at Devin. My heart is pounding with adrenaline, the familiar battle focus narrowing my world to threat assessment and exit strategies.
Outside, Olivia is waiting by my bike, her face pale, eyes anxious.
"Are you okay?" she asks, scanning me for injuries.
"I'm fine. He's the one who's going to be hurting tomorrow." I check her over as well, making sure she's unharmed. "You good?"
She nods, but her hands are trembling. "That was... intense."
"He pulled a knife, Liv. It could have been worse."
Her eyes widen. "A knife? Oh my God."
"It's handled." I grab our helmets from the bike. "Let's get out of here before someone calls the cops."
She takes her helmet with shaking hands. "Will he... do you think he'll listen? Stay away?"
I glance back at the bar. Through the window, I can see Devin still leaning against the wall, blood on his face, watching us with impotent rage.
"He'll listen. For now at least." I help her with her helmet. "But we need to be careful. Men like him don't let go easily."
"What if he comes after me? Or you?"
"Then he'll regret it." I swing my leg over the bike, waiting for her to climb on behind me. "But right now, let's just get back to the motel. We can figure out next steps from there."
She wraps her arms around my waist, holding tighter than before. I feel her press her face against my back, seeking comfort or reassurance. Despite the situation, despite the adrenaline still coursing through my system, the feeling of her holding on to me grounds me somehow.
I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot, leaving Brady's and Devin behind us. But as we ride, I can't shake the certainty that this isn't over. The look in Devin's eyes wasn't just anger or humiliation. It was the look of a man who wasn't going to let this go.
Which means I can't either. Because if there's one thing my time in combat taught me, it's that you never leave an enemy with the means and motivation to strike back.
And Devin Mercer now has both.
As we head back to the motel, I'm already planning my next move. The predator in me, the part honed by war and sharpened by life in the club, knows this confrontation was just the opening salvo in what could become a much uglier fight.
If Devin wants war, I'll give him war. And unlike him, I know exactly how to win one.