Chapter 2
The room was dark, the air thick with dust and the lingering scent of mildew. Sofia pressed her back against the rough wooden wall, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The abandoned apartment she had found was barely liveable, there was a mattress on the floor, a single cracked window, the only light coming from the dim streetlamp outside. She hadn’t slept in two days, too afraid to close her eyes, too paranoid that Grant’s men would burst through the door at any second.
Her fingers trembled as she ran them through her long, dark brown hair. She was twenty-six, but exhaustion and fear had aged her beyond her years. Her blue eyes, once vibrant, now held the weight of terror and loss. Her clothes were dirty, torn in places from her escape, her once-pristine jeans now smudged with dirt and dried blood. She had always been strong, a fighter, but now she felt cornered, hunted.
Her sister, Elena, had always been the tough one. Protective, reckless, and fiercely loyal. She had been everything Sofia wasn’t—bold where Sofia was cautious, daring where Sofia was reserved. Sofia had idolized her, even when Elena had made bad choices, even when she had gotten involved with the wrong people. Even when she had fallen in with the Shadow Riders MC.
Sofia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the memory that clawed its way to the surface. But it was useless. She was back there, in that dimly lit room, the scent of whiskey and sweat thick in the air.
Elena was on her knees, her face bloodied, her dark curls falling over her shoulders in tangles. Her breathing was ragged, but her defiance hadn’t dimmed. Grant stood before her, a sneer curling his lips, his cold, calculating gaze locked on Elena like she was nothing more than an insect beneath his boot.
"You had your chance, Elena," Grant said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You knew the rules. You knew what would happen if you crossed me."
Elena spat blood onto the floor, lifting her chin despite the bruises marring her once beautiful face. "Fuck your rules, Grant. I don’t owe you shit."
The slap echoed through the room, sending Elena’s head snapping to the side. Sofia, bound and gagged in the corner, screamed against the rag stuffed in her mouth, her body thrashing against the ropes cutting into her wrists. She had been helpless, useless as she watched Grant’s men beat her sister within an inch of her life.
"Your sister thought she could steal from me," Grant continued, flexing his fingers as if the slap had barely phased him. "Thought she could take my money and walk away. You don’t walk away from me, Elena."
Sofia’s heart pounded, her mind racing as she tried to think of a way out, any way out. But the gun in Grant’s hand told her there was none.
Elena turned her battered face toward Sofia, her eyes filled with something almost peaceful. She knew. She knew this was it. "Sof," she whispered. "Run."
The gunshot rang out before Sofia could even register what had happened. One moment, Elena was there. The next, she was crumpled on the floor, a pool of crimson spreading beneath her.
Sofia had screamed, the sound raw, guttural, something primal that had ripped through her soul. Grant had barely spared her a glance before turning to his men. "Get rid of her."
But Sofia hadn’t waited. With adrenaline and grief coursing through her veins, she had fought, kicking, biting, and clawing until she broke free. She had run, her legs barely holding her up as she burst out of the warehouse and into the cold night. The sound of boots pounding against pavement chased her, but she had managed to lose them, slipping into the shadows and disappearing.
Sofia’s breath hitched as she snapped back to the present, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She had barely escaped that night. And now, she was alone, with nowhere to turn. The police? They were in Grant’s pocket. No one would believe her. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. He had people everywhere. If she tried to run, he would find her.
Her hands clenched into fists. She couldn’t keep living like this—afraid, running, waiting for the inevitable. She needed help. She needed someone who wouldn’t sell her out.
Her phone sat on the floor next to her, the screen cracked, the battery barely holding on. She hesitated for only a moment before she grabbed it and dialled the only person she could trust.
"Alaska," she whispered, her voice breaking when she heard the familiar voice on the other end.
"Sofia?" Alaska’s tone immediately shifted, laced with concern. "What’s going on? Are you okay?"
Sofia swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. "No. I’m not okay, Alaska. Elena’s dead. She got involved with a motorcycle club and they killed her, and I saw it happen. He tried to kill me too, but I ran. I barely got away, and now his men are looking for me. They won’t stop until I’m dead."
Silence. Then a sharp intake of breath from Alaska. "Jesus, Sof."
"I don’t know what to do," Sofia continued, her voice shaking. "I thought about going to the police, but they’re in his pocket. If I try, they’ll just hand me over to him. I’m out of options, Alaska. I’m so fucking scared."
Alaska didn’t hesitate. "You listen to me right now. You’re coming to me. Where the hell are you?"
Tears burned Sofia’s eyes as she tried to keep her voice steady. "I don’t know. Some abandoned building on the east side. I can’t stay here, Alaska. Grant—he killed Elena. I saw it. He’s after me now."
Silence on the other end. Then a sharp inhale. "Jesus Christ, Sof. Are you hurt?"
"No," Sofia lied, wiping at her face. "But I can’t keep running. I don’t know where to go."
"Listen to me," Alaska said firmly. "You’re coming to me. Right now. I’m calling Dash. The club—they’ll keep you safe. You hear me?"
Sofia swallowed hard. "Are you sure? I don’t want to bring trouble to you."
"Trouble’s already here," Alaska replied. "And you’re family. Family doesn’t turn its back.” Taking in a shaky breath I hear Alaska ask, “what is the name of the motorcycle club that you are running from?”
“They are called the Shadow Riders,” I respond looking over my shoulder to make sure no one is lurking in the darkness.
“Hold tight. We’re coming for you." Alaska states, bringing me a semblance of peace.
For the first time in days, Sofia felt the faintest flicker of hope. She wasn’t alone. Not yet.
She just had to survive long enough to make it to safety.
Her stomach twisted in painful hunger, and her throat was raw with thirst. She hadn’t eaten in nearly two days, and the small bottle of water she had stolen from a convenience store the day before had run dry long ago. The thought of stepping outside, of searching for something to keep her going, gnawed at her mind. But the fear of being seen, of being caught, outweighed everything else. Grant’s men were out there. She knew it. They could be watching, waiting for her to slip up.
She ran a tongue over her cracked lips, wincing at how dry they felt. She had never known thirst like this before. If she left, she might not make it back before Alaska’s people arrived. But if she stayed, she feared her body might betray her. The desperation was overwhelming. Her limbs felt weak, her thoughts sluggish. How long before her body simply shut down?
Minutes stretched into hours. Every creak in the building sent her heart racing. She stayed huddled against the wall, her fingers twitching with nervous energy, resisting the instinct to move. Just as she was about to finally cave and risk stepping outside, she heard it.
Footsteps.
Her pulse spiked, fear clutching her throat. She pressed herself against the wall, eyes wide as she stared toward the entrance. The sound was steady, deliberate, coming closer. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. This was it. They had found her.
Shadows moved in the dim hallway outside, and then—two massive figures stepped into view.
Sofia’s entire body locked in terror. They were huge, both of them clad in dark leather, their movements controlled and purposeful. The dim light reflected off their hard expressions, unreadable and deadly. Her vision blurred with panic as she scrambled back, her fingers digging into the wooden floor, searching for anything she could use to defend herself.
One of the men stepped forward, his voice low and calm. "Sofia?"
She didn’t answer, her chest heaving with uneven breaths, too paralyzed to speak. The man lifted his hands slightly, palms facing her in a clear gesture of peace. "Name’s Dash. Alaska sent us. We’re here to help."
Her breath hitched, her mind struggling to catch up with his words. Dash. Alaska had mentioned him. He was one of the men from the Wolverine MC. The other man beside him, just as large, had sharp eyes that assessed her without a hint of malice. He crossed his arms, giving her space, his stance non-threatening but still imposing.
Dash crouched slightly, keeping his movements slow. "We know you’re scared. You’ve got every reason to be. But we’re here to get you out of this. You can trust us."
Sofia swallowed hard, her body still trembling with adrenaline. She wanted to believe him, but the past days of running, of being hunted, made it impossible to trust so easily. She searched their faces, looking for any sign of deceit, but all she saw was patience and quiet strength.
"Alaska… she sent you?" she finally managed; her voice hoarse.
Dash nodded. "Yeah. She’s worried sick about you. She wouldn’t send anyone she didn’t trust. We’re getting you out of here, but we need to move now."
She hesitated, still torn between the survival instincts that told her to run and the flicker of hope that told her to believe them. But when Dash extended a hand toward her, waiting—not forcing, not demanding—she let out a shaky breath and placed her trembling fingers in his.
The other man, who had remained silent, finally spoke. "Name’s Hunter. I’ll be watching our backs. Let’s get you home."
They led her carefully, making sure she didn’t trip or stumble in her exhaustion. They didn’t rush her, even though she could tell they wanted to. The way they moved, the way they constantly scanned their surroundings, told her they were prepared for a fight if needed.
When they reached the alley where their Harleys were parked, Dash handed her a helmet. "You’re riding with me. Hold on tight, yeah? We’ll get you out of here safe."
She nodded, her fingers clutching the helmet as she took one last glance at the dark, crumbling apartment she had been hiding in. Then, without looking back, she climbed onto the bike, holding onto Dash as the roar of the engine swallowed the silence of the night.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like she might actually make it out of this alive.
Sofia and Alaska had met years ago, both scraping their way through a world that had never been kind to them. They had bonded over shared struggles, finding solace in each other when life had thrown them to the wolves. Alaska had grown up tough, surviving things that would have broken most people, but instead of becoming bitter, she had become a protector—strong, fierce, and loyal to the few she called family. Sofia had always admired that about her. When the world had given them nothing, they had given each other everything.
They had met in a shelter when they were both barely out of their teens, running from different kinds of monsters. Alaska had been escaping an abusive past, and Sofia had been running from a home that never felt safe. They had looked out for each other, refusing to let the darkness swallow them whole. When Alaska had found her way to the Wolverine MC, Sofia had encouraged her, even though it meant they had to part ways. But their bond had never weakened. Distance had meant nothing when they had been through hell together.
Sofia knew she could trust Alaska with her life. She had seen Alaska take on men twice her size, had watched her stand her ground when others would have fled. Alaska had been her rock, the one person who had never abandoned her. And now, when Sofia had nowhere else to turn, she knew with certainty that Alaska would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.