Chapter Three
CRATER RIDGE, ARIZONA
By the time we rolled into Crater Ridge, night had swallowed the desert whole. The sky was black velvet stretched wide, stars scattered bright as shined silver. The air carried that cool edge that came only after the sun bled out, the scent of dust and mesquite riding on the wind.
Her arms were still looped around my waist, her silence pressed close against my back the entire ride. She hadn’t shifted once, not when we hit gravel, not when the wind tore at us. She clung like letting go would drop her straight into the dark.
The clubhouse lights glowed ahead, the lighted club sign buzzing over the gravel lot.
Rows of bikes lined up like soldiers, chrome catching every scrap of light.
The building itself rose from the desert like it had been carved there, brick and steel building, and scars layered deep into its bones. Rough. Weathered. Unforgiving. Home.
I cut the engine. The roar died, leaving the night too quiet. I felt her flinch at the sudden silence. Her hands eased, slow, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to keep holding on.
“It’s okay,” I said softly, tilting my head so she’d hear it. “We’re here.”
Warden’s headlight swept across the lot as he pulled in beside me. He killed the engine, boots crunching gravel when he swung down.
The front porch door creaked open. Maul stepped out first, a beer dangling loose in his hand.
His heavy frame caught the light, face set like stone.
Behind him came Scyth, then Hex and Rex—twins as quiet as shadows with piercing eyes, trailing after with their usual edge of impatience.
Throttle sat on the steps already, cigarette glowing red between his fingers, lips tugged into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.
Six sets of eyes, all landing on her.
She shrank back against me. She wasn’t trembling, but her silence rang louder than any scream.
Maul’s voice broke first, low and rumbling. “What the fuck is this, Ashen?”
“Something we missed at the ranch,” Warden said before I could answer. His tone was clipped, his stare daring any of them to push it.
Elara appeared in the doorway, Warden’s ol’ lady. Round belly under her tank, braid tossed over one shoulder. Her gaze flicked from me to the woman beside me, and softened in a way the men’s never would.
“Jesus,” she whispered. “What happened to her?”
“Explanations later,” I muttered, my voice rougher than I meant.
Hex stepped down the porch, eyes hard, calculating. “She talk?”
“Not yet.”
Rex tilted his head, mouth twisting. “Not ever? She deaf?”
The woman’s silence stretched out like a wire pulled tight. Her eyes flicked from face to face, wide and unblinking. Every man felt it, I could see it in the way they shifted, restless under the weight of it.
“Warden?” Elara asked, moving to her husband’s side. “Tell me what’s going on?”
Before he could answer, the side door banged open and Jewel stepped out, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Boys,” she snapped, sharp as a whip. “Don’t stand out here staring like you’ve never seen a woman before. Let her breathe.”
Jewel was older, seasoned, and carried authority like armor. The closest thing this place had to a mother. When she walked over, her gaze softened. “You can trust us, baby,” she said gently.
She stayed silent. Stone-still.
“She doesn’t—” I started, but Jewel cut me off with a look.
“She can answer if she wants,” Jewel said calmly. But her eyes told me she already knew. She knew what kind of silence this was.
Behind her, Holly, Truly, and Tabby clustered in the doorway, whispering behind their hands, curiosity sparking off them like static.
A gravel crunch sounded off to the side.
From the shadows near the row of older bikes, Dusty shuffled forward, hands shoved in the pockets of his battered cut.
Gray hair tied back at the nape of his neck, face lined deep with years.
He wasn’t active anymore, hadn’t been for a long time, but he still came around near every night, claiming the place kept him young.
“Well, hell,” Dusty said, voice warm as a front porch drawl. “Ain’t no need to scare the girl stiff. She’s already been through enough by the looks of her.” His gaze flicked to me, then softened when it landed on her. “You’re safe here, darlin’. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”
Throttle dragged on his cigarette, smoke curling lazy into the night. “You sure about this, Ash?” His smirk tilted, but his tone wasn’t mocking, more like a test. “Club’s got enough shit on its plate without mystery girls who don’t talk.”
“She stays,” I said. The words came out iron. Final. My tone left no room for a vote.
At my side, her hand twitched against my cut. Just the smallest brush, but I felt it all the way down.
Warden clapped my shoulder once, hard, the weight of brotherhood in it. “Let’s get her inside,” he said. “She needs a bath, food, clean clothes.” His voice dropped lower, just for me. “We’ll iron everything out later in Church.”
Dusty gave a small nod, like a man promising to watch the fire so the others could rest. “I’ll sit out here a while. Keep an eye on things.”
And she looked at him—just for a heartbeat—and in that moment, I knew she believed him.
***
THE COMMON ROOM quieted the second we stepped inside.
Warden kept his house clean, and it showed.
The floors were swept, the bar polished, bottles lined up neat in rows.
The pool table sat in the center with its cues stacked proper in their rack.
Couches sagged from years of use but weren’t littered with trash or stains.
Even the smoke in the air was faint, curling from a few cigarettes but never thick.
The speakers hummed low in the corner playing classic rock, neon signs throwing slants of color over scarred wood. The place carried its history, scrapes in the floor, carvings in the tables, but none of it looked careless. This was a home, not a dive.
The men followed us in, boots heavy on the boards. Maul and Scyth drifted toward the pool table, beers in hand. Hex and Rex claimed their spot near the bar, eyes unblinking. Throttle dropped into a chair by the wall, cigarette glowing red as he leaned back, his smirk lazy but his gaze intense.
Every one of them fixed once again on her.
She shrank tighter into herself, arms crossed like a shield, head bowed. Her silence pressed heavier in here, caught between four walls where every eye had nowhere else to land.
Maul frowned, jaw working slow. “Ashen… you sure she’s okay?” His voice was quiet, cautious, not cruel.
Scyth dragged the tip of his cue along the floor, the sound scraping. “Of course she’s not are you fucking blind?”
Rex muttered something under his breath I didn’t bother catching.
Throttle blew smoke into the air, slow and lazy, cigarette glowing red. His smirk in place, but there was something else behind it, something softer, more curious. He didn’t leer. Didn’t look away either. Just watched.
And then the sweet butts slipped closer to the doorway, whispering behind their hands.
“She’s so thin,” Holly murmured, wide-eyed.
“She’s pretty though,” Truly said, almost defensive, like she had to name it before someone else did.
Tabby just frowned, her eyes cutting. “Pretty’s trouble. Mark my words.”
Their whispers buzzed against my skin like gnats.
She shrank in on herself even more if that was possible, arms pulled tighter, head bowed lower. But she still felt the eyes. I could see it in the stiff line of her shoulders, the way her breath hitched shallow against my back. She knew every stare, every murmur, every judgment.
Her silence pressed heavy into the room. Not empty—never empty. It had weight, the kind that made men shift, clear their throats, glance away like they couldn’t stand the mirror it held up.
I moved closer, blocking some of it with my body, broad shoulders cutting off their line of sight. Her shoulder brushed mine again, light but solid, like she’d learned I was the safest shadow in the room.
Elara crossed the space, her belly brushing the edge of the table. “Honey, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said softly. “You’ll feel better.”
Jewel joined her, hands on her hips, dish towel slung over her shoulder. “Fresh clothes, hot water. You don’t have to stay out here with all these eyes on you.”
The men shifted again. None argued, but none looked away either.
My jaw tightened. Fists itched.
“They’ll take care of you,” I assured her, my voice steady as iron. “You’re safe with them.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, panic, raw and unspoken, and I held her gaze until she looked away again.
Slowly, stiffly, she rose. Jewel and Elara flanked her, one on either side, guiding her toward the hall. Every head turned as she passed. The sweet butts whispered louder now, Truly covering her mouth when she glanced their way.
But Elara’s glare cut sharp enough to shut them up.
When the bathroom door closed behind them, the room finally exhaled. Shoulders dropped. Conversations sparked low again, forced and uneasy.
But me? My fists stayed clenched, knuckles white, because every look they’d given her was burned into my skull.
And if any of them breathed the wrong word in Church, I’d tear the whole room apart to keep her safe.