Property of Vex (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #2)

Chapter One

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Tessa

The café smells like coffee and cinnamon rolls, the kind of smell that’s supposed to be comforting.

It’s four-thirty in the morning, and I’m the only one here as I move through the familiar routine of flipping chairs off tables and firing up the espresso machine.

The hiss and gurgle of water heating fills the silence, and for a moment, I let myself believe everything is normal.

Crystal Creek was supposed to be quiet. Safe.

The kind of place where nothing ever happens and people mind their own business.

That’s why I came here two years ago, leaving behind a life I’d rather forget.

Here, I’m just Tessa, the woman who opens Betty’s Café before dawn and serves coffee with a smile that’s become easier over time.

I flip the sign to “Open” and unlock the door, letting the cold Alaska air rush in. It’s November, and the darkness outside is thick and absolute, broken only by the streetlights that line Main Street. The first flakes of snow are falling, drifting down like white ash.

The bell above the door chimes at exactly five o’clock.

I don’t need to look up to know who it is. I’ve gotten so used to his routine that I could set my watch by it. Heavy boots on the worn floorboards, the creak of the same booth in the back corner, the rustle of a newspaper being unfolded. Vex. Always in the same spot, always silent, always watching.

“Morning,” I call out, reaching for a mug without waiting for an order. Black coffee, no sugar, no cream. Same as every day for the past two years.

He doesn’t answer. He never does. Just a slight nod, his dark eyes tracking me as I walk over with the pot.

When I set the mug down in front of him, his fingers brush against mine, only for a second, and I feel that same electric jolt I always do.

The one that makes my stomach flip and my pulse quicken before I can remind myself this man is dangerous.

Vex is the VP of the Kings of Anarchy, the MC that runs this town whether or not people want to admit it. He’s also something else, something I’ve seen glimpses of in the dark—white eyes that glow like moonlight, movements too fast to be human, a stillness that’s more predator than man.

I know what he is. I’ve known since that night he saved me from the Kings of Anarchy MC, when his eyes went white and his fangs came down and I screamed loud enough to wake the dead.

But we don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about anything.

He sits in his booth, drinks his coffee, reads his newspaper, and I pretend the most dangerous man I’ve ever met isn’t obsessed with me.

Because he is. I can feel it in the way he watches me, the way he positions himself between me and the door as though he’s guarding something precious. The way his jaw tightens when other men look at me for too long.

I should be terrified. Maybe I am, a little. But there’s something else underneath the fear, something warm and dangerous that I refuse to name.

“Busy night?” I ask, wiping down the table next to his. It’s a stupid question. Vex doesn’t do small talk.

But today, he surprises me. His eyes lift from the paper, and he studies me for a long moment. There’s something different in his expression—a tightness around his mouth, a crease between his dark brows.

“Stay close to town today,” he says finally, his voice rough like gravel. “Don’t go walking alone after dark.”

My hand stills on the table. “Why? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just folds his newspaper with precise movements and sets it aside. When he looks at me again, there’s something in his eyes that makes my breath catch. Not the white glow of his vampire nature, but something darker. Worry.

“Just stay close,” he repeats, standing up and dropping a twenty on the table for a three-dollar-fifty cup of coffee. “And keep your doors locked.”

Then he’s gone, the bell chiming his exit, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding and a cold knot forming in my stomach.

The day passes in a blur of customers and routine. Old Walt comes in for his usual breakfast special. Sarah from the post office stops by for her afternoon latte. The loggers from the mill fill the place at noon, their laughter and rough jokes filling the space with warmth.

Everything is normal.

Everything is safe.

But Vex’s words echo in my head, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

It’s Hannah who finally mentions it, sliding into a booth during the afternoon lull with her coffee and that knowing look she gets sometimes.

“You hear about the tracks?” she asks, stirring sugar into her mug.

I look up from refilling the napkin dispensers. “What tracks?”

“Mike found them this morning, out by his property. Animal tracks, but weird. He said they were huge, like something the size of a bear, but the pattern was wrong. And they just... stopped. Right in the middle of a clearing, like whatever made them vanished.”

The cold knot in my stomach tightens. “Could’ve been anything. A moose, maybe.”

Hannah shakes her head, her blonde hair catching the light.

“He said there was ice around them. Like frost, but thick. And it’s not even that cold yet.

” She leans forward, lowering her voice.

“And that’s not all. Julie’s dog went missing two days ago.

Just vanished from her yard. And remember the elk John shot last week?

He found it this morning. Or what was left of it. ”

“What do you mean, what was left of it?”

“He said it looked like something froze it from the inside out. The whole thing was encased in ice, right down to the bones.”

I set down the napkins, my hands suddenly unsteady. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” Hannah agrees, her eyes serious. “It doesn’t. But there’s something wrong in the woods, Tessa. People are talking about it. Some of the old-timers are saying there’s a wrongness in the air, like the forest has gone quiet. No birds. No squirrels. Only... silence.”

The bell chimes, and I look up automatically, relieved for the distraction. But it’s just a stranger, a man I’ve never seen before, with a weathered face and nervous eyes. He orders a coffee to go, and when I hand it to him, he holds onto the cup for a moment too long.

“Do you ever feel like something’s watching this town?” he asks suddenly.

My mouth goes dry. “What?”

He shakes his head, already backing toward the door. “Nothing. Forget it. Just... be careful out there.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m left standing at the counter with Hannah’s words ringing in my ears and Vex’s warning echoing through my mind.

Stay close to town. Don’t go walking alone after dark.

What does he know that I don’t?

By the time I close up at nine, the snow is falling harder, and Main Street is deserted.

I lock the door and stand for a moment on the sidewalk, my breath pluming in the cold air.

The streetlights cast long shadows across the snow, and somewhere in the distance, I can hear the rumble of motorcycle engines.

The Kings.

I should get in my car and drive straight home. Lock the doors, turn on all the lights, maybe call Hannah to come over. But something makes me hesitate, some stubborn part of me that refuses to be afraid of shadows and strange tracks and men who tell me to be careful.

I start walking.

My little rental house is only four blocks away, an easy walk I’ve made a thousand times. The street is quiet, the only sound is the crunch of snow under my boots. I can see my breath in the cold air, and I pull my coat tighter, trying to ignore the prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

You’re being paranoid, I tell myself. There’s nothing out here.

But then the world goes quiet.

Not peaceful quiet. Not the gentle hush of falling snow. This is something else, something wrong. The kind of silence that makes your ears ring and your skin crawl. I stop walking, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribs.

The streetlight ahead of me flickers. Once. Twice. Then goes out completely, plunging the street into darkness.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “Time to not be stupid.”

I turn around, ready to run back to the café, back to lights and locks and safety. But the streetlight behind me is out too. And the one after that. Darkness spreading down the street like a wave, swallowing the light one lamp at a time.

My breath comes faster now, clouds of white in the freezing air. Except... the clouds are thicker than they should be. Heavier. The fog is rolling in from nowhere, wrapping around my ankles like icy fingers.

I run.

My boots slip on the icy sidewalk, and I nearly fall, catching myself on a fence post. The wood is covered in frost, so cold it burns my palm even through my glove. I yank my hand back and keep running, my breath harsh in my throat, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears.

Almost there. Just one more block. Almost—

I see my house ahead, the little blue rental with the porch light burning like a beacon. Relief floods through me, and I sprint the last few yards, my keys already in my hand. I take the porch steps two at a time, fumbling with the lock, my fingers numb and shaking.

The key turns. The door opens. I practically fall inside, slamming it behind me and throwing the deadbolt. For a moment, I stand there, my back against the door, trying to catch my breath.

You’re fine. You’re safe. Nothing happened.

But something did happen. I felt it, a presence in the darkness, a watchful, hungry thing that wanted something from me.

Slowly, I force myself to move, peeling off my coat and hanging it on the hook by the door. My hands are still shaking. I turn on every light as I move through the house, checking windows, making sure they’re locked. Everything is secure. Everything is normal.

I almost laugh at myself. You’re losing it, Tessa. There’s nothing—

I see it when I come back to the front door to grab my purse.

There, on my porch, right in front of the door, etched into the wood: a symbol. Intricate lines and curves forming a pattern I don’t recognize, beautiful and terrible all at once. And it’s made of solid ice, a crystalline ice that doesn’t melt despite the warmth radiating from inside my home.

I stare at it, my blood turning to slush in my veins.

Someone or something was here. On my porch. At my door. While I was fumbling with my keys, it was right there, close enough to touch me.

Close enough to mark me.

I step back from the door, my mind reeling. I should call someone. Hannah. The police. Blade.

Vex.

But I don’t move. I stand there in my too-bright house, staring at the symbol on my porch, and I know with absolute certainty my quiet life in Crystal Creek is over.

Whatever’s been watching this town, whatever left those impossible tracks in the snow...

It’s found me.

And from the way the ice symbol glitters in the porch light like a promise, like a claim, I have a terrible feeling it’s not going to let me go.