Chapter Seven
OUTSKIRTS OF CHARLESTON, South Carolina
I hated drivin’ the cage.
Every damn time I slid behind the wheel of this truck instead of throwin’ a leg over my bike, it felt like somethin’ in me got left behind.
Like my lungs didn’t pull in air right. My knuckles itched for the bars.
I needed the roar in my ears, the wind tearin’ at me, the sting of gravel spittin’ up behind my back tire.
But my bike was laid up at the garage—clutch issue I’d been ignorin’ too long—and tonight, I had to get to The Pit.
The underground gambling hall wasn’t just club business, it was my business while Mystic was tied up with other shit.
Devil handed me the keys, and I kept that place runnin’ smooth.
No bullshit. No screw-ups. No outsiders.
I didn’t play around with responsibilities, not when my brothers were countin’ on me.
The road curved ahead, Carolina blacktop stretchin’ long under moss-heavy oaks, their branches bowin’ low like they were tryin’ to keep secrets. My headlights cut just enough into the dark to show me the world I’d grown up in, muddy, quiet, and full of ghosts.
That’s when I saw it.
Car sittin’ on the shoulder. Hood up. Hazards blinkin’ like they were beggin’ for someone to stop.
Normally? Wouldn’t be me.
Folks break down every damn day, and most times, it ain’t my problem.
But somethin’ made my foot ease off the gas.
Maybe it was the way the woman stood—rigid, protectin’—like a lioness ready to tear someone apart with her bare hands even though she looked like she hadn’t closed her eyes in days.
Maybe it was the kids.
Yeah. Two of ‘em. Little girl clingin’ to her side, and a boy a few years older standin’ between her and the road like he thought he could take on a damn semi. The boy’s chin was up, but I caught the way his hands kept flexin’, like he was used to fightin’ off things too big for him.
I rolled to a stop behind ‘em, mutterin’ under my breath as I threw the truck in park and grabbed my flashlight from the dash.
“Hell,” I grumbled. “Better not be some setup.”
Gravel popped under my boots as I stepped out, the weight of my cut shiftin’ on my shoulders. The woman turned slow, breeze catchin’ her hair, dark, long, wild, like she hadn’t had time to tame it, and her eyes found mine.
And just like that, my whole night changed.
She was beautiful. Not the polished kind. No paint on her face, no tight clothes or fake smile. Just… real. A plain sundress that looked right on her. Guarded, wary, but there wasn’t a damn thing weak in her.
Her face was soft but sharp where it counted—high cheekbones, full lips pressed like she’d been bitin’ ‘em all day. Eyes big and watchful, catchin’ the low light so I couldn’t tell if they were gold or light brown, but I knew they were takin’ in every move I made. Not just watchin’, catalogin’.
She didn’t speak. Neither did I.
I walked to the front of the car, leaned over the engine. Radiator hose was shot, battery light was on, and the engine had given up the ghost. She wasn’t goin’ anywhere tonight.
“You got somebody comin’?” I asked, keepin’ my eyes on the busted mess.
Nothin’.
I straightened, turned. Her hand was restin’ gentle but firm on the girl’s head, shieldin’ her.
The girl kept her eyes locked on the gravel like she’d been told not to look at strangers.
The boy stepped up again, eyes cuttin’ at me like he’d already decided I wasn’t safe.
That’s when I caught sight of the bags in the backseat, one gaped open, teddy bear wedged between a pillow and a box of cereal.
On top of the bag, a shirt that still had a store tag hangin’ from it. They’d left fast.
She wasn’t just broke down.
She was runnin’.
“No,” she finally said, voice soft but carryin’ shadows.
I nodded slow, chewin’ the inside of my cheek. “You trustin’ anybody at all tonight?”
Her gaze didn’t flinch. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“Name’s Zeke Thorne,” I told her plain. “Run a place not far from here. You and the kids don’t need to be standin’ out here with no heat, no help. Ain’t askin’ questions, just offerin’ a way off this road.”
She hesitated. The boy leaned in, whispered somethin’ I couldn’t catch. Whatever it was made her eyes narrow like she was weighin’ the last chip she had to bet.
“Why would you help a stranger?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Don’t usually. But I ain’t leavin’ two kids on the side of the road. Ain’t in me.”
She still didn’t move. Chin tipped up stubborn.
“You can ride up front with me,” I said. “Kids’ll be in the back where you can keep your eyes on ‘em. I’ll drive slow. You say stop, I stop. You want out, I pull over. Simple as that.”
Her throat worked, like she was swallowin’ down every reason she had not to trust me. Then—
“Okay.”
One word. That’s all I needed.
I swung open the passenger door. She got the kids in first, and I saw her hand tremble for the first time.
Whoever she was, whatever she was runnin’ from, it scared her bad.
And now I was in it.
Shit.
***
KIDS WERE OUT cold before we even hit the first stop sign. Heads lollin’, mouths slack, the kind of sleep you only get when you’ve been burnin’ on fear and finally crash. I kept my eyes on the road, lettin’ the silence ride with us like a third passenger.
She didn’t say a word. Didn’t tap her fingers. Didn’t shift in her seat. Just sat too damn still, like she thought even the wrong breath might shatter whatever thin thread of luck had pulled her off that shoulder.
I didn’t ask her name.
Not yet.
Some things you wait on.
The turnoff to The Pit came up quick, a narrow ribbon of gravel just wide enough for two bike tires, never mind a truck.
Trees crowded close, hangin’ low like they wanted to hide the sky.
The deeper I drove, the more the world behind us just…
fell away. That was the point. This place wasn’t built for strangers to stumble across.
We rolled up behind the structure, concrete sunk into the earth like it’d grown there. Camouflaged. Industrial. Quiet.
Above it sat a house.
Three bedrooms, solid roof, clean water. Devil kept it stocked in case a brother needed to crash in the middle of somethin’ heavy. Chain’s sister had been rentin’ it till she moved on, and Devil decided to keep it for club use. Right now, it was sittin’ empty.
I cut the engine.
That’s when she finally looked at me. Not quick. Not curious. Hard. Like she was runnin’ the numbers in her head, tryin’ to decide if I was about to turn into the monster she clearly knew from experience.
“You and the kids can stay up there,” I said, noddin’ toward the porch light barely glowin’ through the trees. “No rent. No rules. Just one thing…”
Her shoulders pulled tight, arms lockin’ around her ribs like a shield.
“If you see or hear things comin’ from down there”—I jerked a thumb toward the concrete buried in the dirt—“you look the other way. Don’t ask. Don’t get curious. The Pit’s club business. I keep it clean, but it ain’t for outsiders.”
“I don’t care what you do down there,” she said, voice flat as a worn road.
I believed her.
“You need food, it’s in the pantry. Beds are made. Hot water still works—mostly. Heat and AC too. Ain’t fancy, but better than the back seat of a busted car.”
She didn’t thank me. Just gave one short nod.
I got out first and opened the back door.
The little girl had her teddy bear in a death grip, eyes peekin’ over the top of it as I lifted her down.
The boy met my stare head-on when I set him on the gravel, brave as he could be, but I saw the quick flick of his gaze toward the trees, like he was keepin’ watch for somethin’ else.
She climbed out last. Sundress catchin’ the breeze, arms cinched tight around herself. She looked so damn tired it hit me like a punch, like it hurt just to see her still movin’ when she clearly had nothin’ left in the tank. There was a bruise half-hidden under the hem of her sleeve.
Still, she didn’t ask for a damn thing. Didn’t try to make small talk. Just followed me toward the porch like she’d already decided to make it work, whatever “it” ended up bein’.
I unlocked the front door and flicked on the light. It sputtered, then hummed to life. “You’ll be safe here,” I said, half to her, half to convince myself.
She stepped inside slow, eyes sweepin’ the place like she was checkin’ for traps. The boy made straight for the kitchen, openin’ cabinets like he was on a mission. The girl curled up on the couch, still holdin’ her bear. Only then did I see her shoulders loosen a notch.
“I’ll call my club brother to tow your car tomorrow,” I told her. “It’s gonna need serious work, and it may take a while. Gearhead’s the best, but he’s got a backlog.”
She nodded.
I waited.
No name.
“Like I said, I’m Zeke,” I offered. “Club calls me Thunder. Folks use both. Don’t matter, I answer to either.”
Her mouth twitched—almost a smile as she pointed to the kids. “Malik, Zara, and I’m Sable,” she murmured.
Sable.
Hell, it fit her too well. Strong. Dangerous in the right light. Beautiful no matter the light.
I gave her one last look, somethin’ twistin’ in my chest I couldn’t put a name to. “You need anythin’,” I said, “I’m downstairs. Just tell the guard at the door to come get me.”
Then I left her there.
But she stayed with me.