Chapter Four
Jo
The world was a blur of shadows and whispers when I cracked my eyes open. Pain throbbed through my body, sharp and insistent, pulling me out from under the veil of unconsciousness. Everything hurt. My breath came in shallow gasps, each one a battle against the ache that had taken up residence in my bones.
I was in a room where shadows clung to the walls, with a single dim bulb somewhere above me. The air smelled like oil and leather. Outside, the distant growl of a motorcycle engine cut through the silence, a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone. Underland MC was out there -- my protectors.
A creak from the door pulled my attention away from the aching in my limbs. A man stepped into the room, and the dim light caught the edges of his mischievous grin, the one thing about him that seemed immune to the grimness of our surroundings. Cheshire. His name fit him like a second skin, all sly grins and sharp eyes that missed nothing. With every step he took toward me, my pulse ticked up a notch, hammering a staccato rhythm against my ribs.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he said, voice smooth as worn leather, “thought you could use this.”
He offered me a glass of water, and it was like he knew how parched my throat was, how much my body craved something, anything, to wash away the taste of fear and pain. But his casual tone didn’t match the calculating look in his eyes, those piercing depths that seemed to strip me bare and see right to the core of me. I didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened around the glass. Even now, he was on edge, ready for anything.
“Thanks.” My voice was a rough whisper, betraying more weakness than I’d like. I took the glass with hands that weren’t quite steady, the coolness of the water promising relief. It was an act of trust, accepting something from him, and part of me wondered if that’s exactly what he wanted -- to test me.
“You’re safe here. You know that, right?”
Did I? The question hung in the air between us. Safe was a word that hadn’t applied to me for a long time, its meaning lost somewhere in the mess that had become my life. But as I took a careful sip of water, feeling it soothe my raw throat, I realized that maybe -- just maybe -- I wanted to believe him.
I sipped at the water at first, then drank it quickly. Once I’d finished, I set the glass aside. At least I now knew anything they gave me to eat or drink should be fine. Then again, Eddie sometimes liked playing with my food. Nothing would happen for several days, then he’d slip something into my portion, and I’d be sick for days. It was possible something like that could happen again, but in my gut, I felt like I would be okay here with these men.
My gaze landed on March as he filled the doorway with his bulk. His shadow loomed large, a mountain of muscle and stern lines that seemed to suck the air out of the space. He didn’t say a word, didn’t have to -- his piercing eyes did all the talking, pinning me with a look that felt like a weight pressing down on my chest.
“March,” Cheshire acknowledged with a nod so subtle most would’ve missed it. But I saw. Saw the silent language spoken between these men, understood I was the topic of conversation without a single word being exchanged.
“Feeling any better?” Cheshire’s voice cut through the tense silence, his grin still in place, as if this were all just some game to him. To them, maybe it was.
“Been better,” I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling the pull of tender skin and bruised flesh. “Been worse.”
“Ah, that’s the spirit.” His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp, assessing. Like he could see every lie I’d ever told, every secret I’d tried to keep. “Can’t keep a good woman down, eh?”
“Depends on the woman,” I shot back, cautious but unable to completely hide the bite in my words. I needed him to know I wasn’t broken. Not yet. If I’d stayed any longer, then… Yeah, Eddie would have destroyed me.
“True enough.” He chuckled, and for an instant, I wondered if there was genuine warmth behind that smirk. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a glint that told me he enjoyed this -- enjoyed poking at the raw edges of my trust.
“Does it get easier?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability I despised.
“Life with the Underland MC?” He tilted his head, considering. “It’s like riding a bike. You get thrown, you get back on. And we’re all about loyalty here. You’ll see.”
“Or I’ll get thrown again,” I said, my fingers tracing the edge of the blanket, grounding myself in its rough texture.
“Only one way to find out.” Cheshire’s smile widened just a fraction, a dare hidden in the curve of his lips. “Stick around. Let us prove it to you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Prove it . Two simple words, heavy with promise or threat -- I couldn’t tell which. But as March’s silhouette receded from the doorway, leaving me alone with Cheshire and his cryptic assurances, I realized that despite my reservations, part of me wanted to take that leap. Wanted to believe in something again.
“Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“Everyone has a choice, Jo.” Cheshire leaned back against the wall, the mischief in his eyes replaced by something harder, more resolute. “Question is, what are you willing to risk for it?”
Risk. As I met his gaze, something like understanding -- or maybe recognition -- passed through those sharp depths. Maybe, just maybe, we weren’t so different after all.
I heard a floorboard creak and watched the doorway. Absolem. I remembered seeing him last night. His gaze swept over me, sharp yet somehow soothing. He crossed the room with purpose, each step measured and deliberate.
“Let’s have a look at those bandages,” he said, voice and hands steady as he reached for me. There was no hesitation in his touch, only the precision of someone who knew exactly what needed to be done. I flinched, not out of fear, but from the dull throb that radiated from my injuries. Absolem noticed, pausing for a fraction of a second before continuing his examination.
“Sorry,” he murmured, though his gaze never left the task at hand. He unwrapped, inspected, then rewrapped. His motions were methodical, calming the chaos that had taken root inside me since this nightmare began. He produced a small bottle of pills from his pocket, shook out two, and he offered them to me along with a glass of water. “For the pain.”
“Thanks,” I managed, my throat dry. I hadn’t taken note of the label on the bottle. The pills looked harmless enough -- tiny white promises of relief -- but everything came with a price.
In the background, Rabbit paced like a caged animal. His fingers danced over the surface of a pen, clicking it incessantly. Notebook clutched in his other hand, he scribbled something down every few seconds, then scratched it out, and started over. Restlessness poured off him in waves, and I could feel his eyes flick to me, then away, too fast to read the emotion behind them.
I wasn’t sure why everyone felt the need to come see me. It wasn’t like I was someone special. Just a stray they’d picked up off the street. I didn’t understand why they seemed to want me to get to know all of them. Sure, Hatter had said I was family now, but in my experience, family wasn’t exactly forever. Did they plan on me being here for a while?
“Easy, Rabbit,” Absolem said without turning, his voice low but carrying. “She’s in good hands.”
Rabbit nodded, seemingly more to himself than anyone else, and resumed his fidgeting. The pen click, click, clicked -- almost like a Morse code of nerves. I wondered what would happen if he ever snapped. He seemed completely at odds with the other men here. I wasn’t sure how he fit with this group.
“Can’t sit still,” Rabbit mumbled, almost to himself. “Too much to do, too much at stake.”
“Focus on now,” Absolem replied, finishing up with my bandages. “She needs calm.”
“Right. Calm,” Rabbit echoed, but his body told another story.
I swallowed the pills, the water chasing away the dryness but not the unease. Underland MC -- a family, they claimed. But families could be twisted, bound by blood spilled rather than shared. And I was stuck in their world.
“Rest,” Absolem instructed, standing back to assess his work. “You’ll need your strength.”
“Strength for what?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze met mine, and I found an echo of the same wariness that I felt.
“Whatever comes next,” he finally said.
They both left, and once I was alone, fatigue pulled at me. It wasn’t long before I’d dozed off again.
* * *
The room’s dim light seeped through my closed lids, and the ache in my body made me groan.
“Need anything?” Absolem’s voice cut through the haze. He stood by the bed, arms crossed, his eyes sharp beneath furrowed brows.
“Water,” I croaked, my throat barren. “Thanks… for all this.”
“Hydration’s important.” He handed me a glass, the cold liquid a small mercy on my lips. “Anything else?”
I wanted to say answers but bit back the response. Trust didn’t flow easily. It had to be earned, and I was in no position to demand anything.
“Rest,” he replied, as if reading my mind. His gaze lingered, dissecting my silence.
Alone with Absolem, the room felt colder, the space between us thick with unspoken questions.
“Observant,” I noted, watching him watch me. His posture relaxed, but his eyes never wavered. “You’ve been watching my every move and assessing me.”
“Part of the job,” he said, pulling up a chair. “You’re safe here, Jo. Remember that.”
Safe was a relative term. But lying here, under Absolem’s calculated vigil, it felt almost true. I wondered where the other man had gone -- Hatter. The one who’d given me a ride here.
“Sure,” I murmured, the word hollow but hopeful.
The chair creaked as Absolem settled into it, his body language open yet precise.
“Talk to me, Jo,” he began, the timbre of his voice steady. “How’d you get tangled up with the kind of trouble that landed you here?”
I shifted in the bed, pain lancing through my ribs. “Started with a guy,” I said, wincing. “Thought he was the world. Turned out, he was hell wrapped in charm.”
Absolem nodded, just listening.
“Got out, but he…” I trailed off, the memories sharp. “He didn’t like losing possessions.”
“Is that what brought you to Warren?” His question was direct, the words like bullets. “Your accent doesn’t sound like you’re from here.”
“I had to go where Eddie went. Not that I have a home to return to.”
“Are you questioning your decision to ask us for help?”
“Can you blame me?” My laugh was bitter. “Jumping from one lion’s den to another. With Eddie, he was the devil I knew. I may have heard a few whispers about the Underland MC and seen you around town, but I know nothing about any of you.”
“Underland’s no lion’s den,” Absolem said, leaning forward slightly. “We’re more… a protective pack, if you’re going to stick with animals. We look after our own.”
“And I’m ‘your own’ now?” Skepticism laced my tone.
“Since the moment you stepped out in front of us and Hatter decided to bring you here, you’ve been part of this family. He already told you that, didn’t he? We don’t turn our backs on people in need.”
“Even if it brings trouble?” I searched his face for any sign of hesitation.
“Especially then.” There was steel in his voice, a resolve that seemed unbreakable. “We stand together. That’s how we survive, and it’s how we’ll keep you safe.”
“Family, huh?” The concept felt foreign, like a language I’d forgotten how to speak. Even before Eddie, I hadn’t really had one of those. Although, my home life had been better than anything I experienced after meeting him. I just hadn’t realized it wasn’t as awful as I’d thought.
“Family,” he confirmed, a hint of warmth breaking through the cold facade. “You might not trust us yet but give it time. You’ll see.”
“Time…” I echoed, pondering the word. It was about all I had right now. On the street, every passing minute had felt like an eternity, just waiting for Eddie to catch me. Here, I could hide from the world and heal.
The silence stretched between us. I drew a shallow breath, my ribs protesting with a sharp twinge. Absolem’s words lingered in my mind. Whether I liked it or not, I didn’t have a choice but to put my faith in these men.
I glanced around the sparse room, its walls echoing stories they’d never tell. The Underland MC’s world was raw, unpolished steel and leather, miles away from anything I’d known. Yet here I was, nursing wounds both fresh and old, under their watchful eyes.
The men outside, despite their loud laughter, bore scars of their own -- each mark a testament to battles fought, some won, others lost. March’s stern gaze, Cheshire’s sly smile, Rabbit’s nervous energy -- they were all layers of armor. Then there was Absolem, quietly watching me.
A knot twisted in my gut, a tangle of gratitude and dread. They offered safety, a haven from the storm that was my past. But did I dare trust them?
“Jo?” Absolem’s voice broke through my reverie, his tone gentle. “You’ve gone quiet.”
“Sorry.” My reply was little more than a whisper. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking can be dangerous,” he said, the hint of a smirk on his face. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, though.
“Isn’t everything here?” I managed a half-hearted chuckle, but fear’s cold fingers still danced along my spine.
“Maybe.” He stood, his movements precise, controlled. “But danger doesn’t always mean harm. Not here. Not with us.”
Absolem stepped closer, his boots scuffing softly against the wood floor. His gaze, calm and steady, met mine.
“You’re safe. That’s a promise,” he said, offering a small smile, a crack in his disciplined fa?ade.
I studied him, this man who held order amidst chaos, who saw family where others saw outcasts. For a fleeting moment, his confidence was infectious.
“I guess… I guess that’s something I could get used to. Safety. Family. Been a while since I had either.”
“Good.” Absolem’s smile widened just a fraction more. “Welcome to Underland, Jo.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze. Maybe, just maybe, I could find shelter here, and I could call this place home.