1. Haunted
Ely
T he darkness is alive down here, in the Iron Vultures' basement.
It breathes. Shifts. Moves with the silence, coiling around me like a snake, pressing its weight against my chest. The air is suffocating, muggy with the scent of mold and old blood, and even though the walls don't touch me, I feel trapped, like the room is shrinking, slowly crushing me from the inside out.
A rat scurries across the concrete floor, its tiny claws clicking against it. I don't flinch. I don't move at all.
I don't have the strength anymore.
I press my forehead to my knees, my breath coming in slow, shaky pulls. My throat is raw, my head throbbing. Everything hurts. My ribs ache, my arms are stiff from how hard I fought them, my head and face are a mess and my skin, where they marked me, burns like it's still being branded.
TRAITOR.
I can't look at it again.
I curl my fingers into my palm, clenching my fists until my nails bite into my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut. Try to focus on breathing. Try to push down the panic clawing at my chest.
It doesn't work.
Eight years ago
I was fifteen the first time I stepped into an MC clubhouse.
Back then, I thought it was the most exciting place in the world.
I'd grown up with nothing. Shitty foster homes, bouncing between families that only kept me for the check, hungry more often than not. So when I met Lucas, the nineteen year old son of one of the Crimson Riders, I latched onto him like a lifeline. He had freedom, a family that called him brother, a father that let him drink beer since he was sixteen and drive motorcycles at high-speed.
I wanted to belong to something like that.
And I thought I did.
The first time I walked into the Crimson Riders' clubhouse, the music was loud and cigarette smoke blurred my vision. Men in leather cuts laughed at the bar, women draped over their laps, neon lights flickering on the walls. It was chaos. It was wild. It was everything I ever wanted.
Lucas grinned at me as he led me through the mess.
"You like it?" he asked.
I nodded. My heart was happy, trembling with excitement. A little fearful, too, but I ignored that. I shouldn’t have.
"It's home," he said.
I wanted to believe him. And I did. Because a place to call home and a family was the only wish I ever had.
Present
Stupid girl.
I dig my nails deeper into my palm, pressing against the pain, forcing the memory back down.
It wasn't home.
It was a goddamn cage. And I was too young, too desperate, too fucking naive to see it.
Six years ago
The first time I saw Jinx, I was seventeen.
He was already patched into the club, one of the top earners, a man with power. I didn't realize back then that power meant ownership.
I'd been standing in the kitchen, laughing with Lucas while I stole a sip of his beer, when Jinx walked in. He leaned against the doorframe, tattooed arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning me like a man picking out his next meal.
"She legal yet?" he asked.
The room went quiet.
Lucas laughed it off, shaking his head. "Not yet."
Jinx smirked, his gaze lingering on me. "Shame."
He simply turned and walked away.
But from that day on, I belonged to him.
Even though I never agreed to it.
Even though I never wanted it.
He watched me. Every fucking day. Every time I laughed, every time I ate, every time I existed. He had his claim on me before I even understood what it meant.
At first, it was subtle. A glance here, a lingering look there. A smirk when I laughed too loud, a knowing tilt of his head when I walked into a room. I thought it was just Jinx being Jinx. One of the older guys, arrogant as hell, the kind of man who collected women like trophies.
But then it got worse.
I'd feel his eyes on me when I was alone, like a phantom touch on the back of my neck. I'd be in the kitchen, in the yard, reading a damn book, and I'd look up and find him leaning against a doorway, arms crossed, watching me like he already owned me.
It didn't matter what I was doing. He was always there.
Then came the gifts.
At first, it was small things. A leather bracelet he put on my wrist himself, wrapping it tight, his fingers brushing against my pulse as he whispered, "Looks better on you."
A locket, old and worn, that he said had belonged to his mother. If only.
Then... my favorite shampoo appeared in the clubhouse bathroom. My brand of cigarettes, even though I only smoked occasionally, showed up on the bar top, always waiting for me. A book I'd mentioned once, sitting on my bed.
I didn't tell him any of these things.
He already knew.
It made my skin crawl.
But the worst part? The others encouraged him.
"You got yourself a shadow, Ely," one of the brothers joked as Jinx pulled me onto his lap at the bar.
I stiffened, my hands curling into fists. "Jinx—"
"Relax, sweetheart." His fingers trailed down my arm, possessive. "You know you like it."
I glanced at Lucas, my best friend, the one who had brought me here. He didn't stop it. He didn't even look uncomfortable.
He just laughed, knocking back his beer.
The room filled with grins, chuckles, approving nods.
Because in their eyes, this was normal.
And if I pushed him away, if I rejected him, I'd lose everything.
So I sat there, letting him hold me, letting his fingers dig into my hip, letting his lips brush against my fucking hair as he whispered, "That's my good girl."
I wanted to scream.
But I swallowed it down.
Because this was my home, right?
Right?
Five years ago
I made a mistake.
A stupid, desperate mistake.
I should have kept my mouth shut, kept pretending that I was fine, that Jinx's hands on me didn't make my skin feel dirty, wrong, poisoned.
But I trusted Lucas.
And Lucas didn't care.
We were in the garage behind the clubhouse, the air thick with the scent of oil and gasoline, the concrete slick with last night's rain. Lucas was sitting on a crate, rolling a cigarette, completely relaxed, while my entire world was closing in around me.
"You have to tell him to stop," I forced out. My voice was too soft, too small, but I felt raw inside. "Lucas, please."
His fingers didn't even slow as he sealed the paper with his tongue. "Tell who to stop what?"
I swallowed, my nails digging into my palms. "Jinx."
That made him pause. He flicked his gaze up to me, annoyance flickering behind his eyes. "The fuck are you talking about, Ely?"
I stepped closer. "I don't want him, Lucas. I never did. He — he won't leave me alone, and no one's saying anything—"
"Ely." His voice was sharp, cutting. "You know how this works."
I stilled. My stomach dropped.
"What?" I whispered.
Lucas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Jinx has his mind made up about you. Everyone sees it. And if you're smart, you'll stop fighting it."
I staggered back. "Are you serious?"
He scoffed. "Do you know what Jinx is like when he doesn't get what he wants?"
My hands shook. "So that's it? I just — just let it happen?"
Lucas frowned, like he was trying to explain something simple to someone stupid. "You think the club's gonna back you over him? They just want Jinx happy. And if that means you stop fighting him, then that's what they expect."
My chest constricted.
All the air left my lungs.
I stared at him, waiting for him to say he was kidding. Waiting for him to take it back.
But he didn't.
He never would.
I was all alone.
It started with the doors.
I used to be able to shut them.
To lock them.
To carve out even the smallest piece of privacy in a world that wasn't really mine.
But then one night, I walked into my room — the one I was given at the clubhouse — and Jinx was already inside.
Sitting in my chair.
Smiling.
"Locked doors don't mean much around here, sweetheart," he said. "You're eighteen, time to become a woman now."
My pulse skipped, then roared to life, my lungs locked up. I stepped back before I even realized I was moving.
His smile widened. "You nervous?"
I couldn't breathe.
My chest clenched. The air vanished from my body.
I was trapped.
I was going to die there.
And I did. I died in that room that night. And no one cared.
Jinx forced himself inside my body every night starting then. And I couldn't say anything.
I couldn't do anything. The leash was already firmly around my neck.
Eight months ago
I spent years planning it.
The perfect moment, when Jinx would finally feel like he sucked the will out of me. Like I was so beat down that I wouldn't ever dream of leaving him.
I stole cash, pocketing bills when no one was looking.
I memorized schedules, learned when Jinx drank enough to pass out, when the brothers were distracted, when I could slip through the cracks.
I stashed a bag in a forgotten storage room with clothes, money, a burner phone I bought from a gas station.
And then I waited.
For the right night.
The clubhouse was quiet, the brothers still out at a deal. Jinx had gone upstairs an hour before, drunk, mean, already asleep.
My hands shook as I grabbed my bag, slipping through the back door as silently as I could.
Every step felt like a death sentence.
I crept across the lot, past the rows of bikes, past the garage, until I hit the woods.
And then I ran.
I ran until my lungs burned, until my legs threatened to give out, until the clubhouse was nothing but a nightmare in the distance.
I didn't stop.
I didn't look back.
Because if I did, they'd catch me.
And if they caught me, I'd never leave again. Not alive, at least.
Present
A shudder rips through me. I press my forehead harder against my knees, gripping my arms, my pulse pounding in my ears.
I never told Bones about Jinx.
Never told him how I ran. Never told him what the Crimson Riders did to me.
And now I never will.
Because he wouldn't hear me out and he wouldn't believe me anyway. Why wouldn't he at least hear me out? The woman he claims to love?
I force my breathing to slow, but my body is spiraling, my mind racing through every memory I've fought so hard to bury.
I would never have chosen the Iron Vultures if I could. If I had anywhere else to go.
When I first showed up on their doorstep, I was just looking for somewhere to hide.
I'd overheard the Crimson Riders talking about them once. ‘ Our rivals, dangerous motherfuckers, don't fuck with them unless you're ready to die. ’ And I knew, deep down, that Jinx would never look for me here.
He couldn't.
He was too scared. He shook every time he heard their name.
So I took my chances with the Iron Vultures. To survive.
And then Bones happened.
He was nothing like Jinx. Where Jinx was cruel, suffocating, Bones was intoxicating, loving.
I never meant to fall for him.
But it was easy. He made it easy.
He kissed me like I was air and he was a man drowning. He held me close at night, his arms wrapped tight around me, like he was terrified I'd disappear. He pulled me into his world, made me his Ol' Lady, made me believe in something again.
And I fucking fell for it.