Chapter Five
Mara walked fast down the highway, backpack slung over one shoulder, her steps quick and nervous on the gravel shoulder. Her nerves still hadn’t steadied since that morning. Every passing motorcycle made her flinch, every echo of an engine made her glance back.
She’d eaten at the diner hours ago, but her stomach was still in knots. After her car had broken down, she’d thought about catching a bus, about heading further north, maybe even crossing a state line. However, she figured she could save a little and walk to the next town before dark.
The afternoon heat shimmered on the road when she caught the low growl of another bike. One, then another. The sound hit her spine like a warning.
Mara’s pulse spiked. She turned, and her worst fear took form on the horizon. Two riders, both wearing the unmistakable leather cuts of the Iron Serpents. Her mouth went dry. They slowed as they spotted her.
“Hey, sweetheart!” one of them called, his voice carrying over the rumble of the engines. “Been looking for you!”
Panic shot through her veins. Mara ran.
Gravel sprayed under her boots as she bolted toward the thin line of trees that bordered the road. A hand caught the strap of her backpack, jerking her backward so hard her breath left her lungs.
“Gotcha.”
She twisted, struggling, but the heavyset man with a beard matted from the ride, yanked her back against his chest. His partner dismounted and stalked closer, grin sharp as a knife.
“Your old man and our Prez are both real eager to see you again,” the second one said, grabbing her arm.
Mara’s heart slammed. “Let me go!”
“Don’t fight. We’ll make it easy.”
She kicked out, catching one in the shin. He cursed, tightening his grip.
Then another sound cut through the scuffle. A deeper growl, low and dangerous. A Harley engine, throttled hard. All three froze. The bike came out of nowhere, roaring down the side road before skidding to a stop in a spray of dust.
The man who climbed off it was tall, broad-shouldered, and all steel in motion. Viper. Mara’s breath caught.
She’d seen him briefly that morning and couldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon. He moved like someone who knew violence the way other people knew breathing. Right now, he looked ready for it.
The Serpents turned toward him, both wary and hostile.
“Ain’t your business,” one growled. “Walk away.”
Viper didn’t. He took a slow step forward, expression unreadable.
“Funny thing,” he said. “I don’t like watching two grown men drag a woman off the road.”
“She’s not your problem.”
Viper tilted his head. “Looks like she might be.”
The air went tight. The first Serpent shoved Mara aside and reached for his waistband. Viper moved before the man even cleared leather. Viper knocked the weapon away with his hand.
The second lunged at him, but Viper pivoted, driving his elbow into the man’s gut, then catching him by the collar and slamming him into one of their bikes.
Metal crumpled. The first man swung. Viper ducked, grabbed his wrist, and twisted. The crack of bone was muffled by the Serpent’s shout.
“Walk away,” Viper said again, voice low. “Or you’re gonna stay down.”
Neither listened. The fight turned fast and mean. Mara backed away, heart pounding as fists and curses filled the air. She’d seen fights before, but there was something different about this man.
Viper didn’t fight like a biker. He fought like a soldier. He was efficient and brutal, every movement controlled. When it was over, both Serpents lay sprawled on the asphalt, groaning but alive.
Viper stood over them, breathing hard, blood beading on his knuckles. He didn’t even look at it. Instead, his gaze found Mara.
“Are you hurt?” Viper asked.
She shook her head, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat felt raw.
He stepped closer, and something in his eyes softened. Not much, just enough to make her chest tighten.
“Why were they looking for you?” he asked quietly.
Mara swallowed. “Because my father sold me to their president.”
Viper clenched his jaw “And your father is?”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to see the judgment that always came next. Still, she was cornered, still trembling, and she knew if she lied, he’d see through her.
“The Blood Vultures MC President,” she whispered. “Rex Dalton.”
Viper’s brows lifted slightly. Recognition flickered there.
“Hell,” he muttered. He looked at the unconscious men, then back at her.
Viper must also be thinking about Denny and Rex earlier that afternoon, because he said, “You picked one hell of a family to run from, sweetheart,”
“I didn’t pick them.” Her voice cracked. “I was born into it.”
For a moment, neither spoke. The sound of distant traffic and the low hum of cicadas filled the air.
Finally, Viper exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “You got somewhere to go?”
She shook her head.
“Then you’re coming with me,” he said.
“What? No way.”
“Not a request.” His tone softened, but the finality in it left no room for argument. “They’ll be back. Your father or the Iron Serpents would send more men after you.”
Mara hesitated. Every instinct screamed not to trust him. He wore the cut of another MC, another man like them, but something deep in her bones said he wasn’t. Not quite. God help her, part of her wanted to believe that.
“Why are you helping me?” she asked.
Viper looked at her for a long beat, then said quietly, “I don’t know yet.”
****
The ride back to the Devil’s Crown MC clubhouse was silent. Mara clung to the back of his Harley, every vibration of the engine traveling through her chest. She’d never been this close to him.
Mara had her arms wrapped around his waist and was distinctively aware of the solid of his back. The close contact sent her thoughts scattering. She told herself it was adrenaline, shock, anything but the flicker of something else that pulsed low and unbidden.
By the time they reached the Devil’s Crown compound, dusk was falling.
The place was noisy, just like the Blood Vultures’ clubhouse.
There was music, laughter, and the sound of engines.
When Viper guided his bike around the side to a quieter wing and parked near a row of private rooms, the sound dimmed.
“This way,” he said.
She followed him inside. The small room smelled faintly of leather and whiskey. Spartan, like a man who didn’t need much. There was a bed, dresser, old scarred table. There were no photos, no personal touches.
“Sit,” Viper said, gesturing to the chair. He disappeared into the bathroom, came back with a damp towel, and handed it to her. “You’re shaking.”
She hadn’t noticed until then. Her hands trembled as she took it.
“Thanks,” Mara muttered.
Viper leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Start talking, Mara.”
Her name sounded different in his mouth.
“I told you. My father’s the president of the Blood Vultures.”
“Yeah. I’m guessing he’s not sending birthday cards.”
Did he make that joke to make her feel more at ease? Well, it sort of worked. Mara opened her mouth and told him everything. How she found out Rex sold her because it would help settle some of his debts to the Iron Serpents.
“When I found out what my father’s plans for me were...” Mara trailed off.
“You ran,” Viper said, eyes dark.
“I had to.”
Silence stretched between them. The weight of it pressed on her until she thought she might shatter.
Viper pushed off the wall, pacing once before he spoke again. “You understand what happens if they find you?”
She nodded, eyes stinging. “They’ll kill me. Or worse.”
Something flickered behind his eyes. Anger, maybe, or pity. She couldn’t tell.
“Then you’ll stay here,” he said finally. “At least until I figure out how to resolve this mess.”
She stared at him. “Here? In your room?”
He met her gaze evenly. “It’s the only place they won’t look. No one touches my room.”
Her heart stumbled. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“I can handle trouble,” Viper told her.
“Why are you doing this, Viper?” Mara had to ask.
Her voice came out hoarse, fragile, and she hated how small it sounded. However, she needed to know. She needed to hear him say what he wanted, what this was.
No one did her any favors without asking for something back in return.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, Viper rubbed a hand over his face. For a second, she thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. Then his gaze found hers.
“Because I don’t like bullies,” he said finally, voice rough and low. “Because I don’t want to see your blood spilled. Hell if I know, Mara. Maybe I just can’t walk away.”
She wanted to argue, to tell him that no one did things out of kindness, that the world didn’t work that way. Every man she’d ever known, especially the ones wearing cuts, had always wanted something in return.
When she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Her throat closed up, tight and aching. The fear, the exhaustion, the days of running hit her all at once, wave after wave until her chest felt too small to hold it all.
Tears slipped free before she could stop them. Viper froze. She saw the instinctive stiffness in his shoulders, the quick flash of uncertainty. It was the kind of discomfort men had when faced with something they couldn’t fix with their fists.
Then, slowly, like a man approaching a wounded animal, he stepped closer.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”
The words cracked something deep inside her. Safe. She hadn’t felt that in years. Not in her father’s house, not in the Blood Vultures’ compound, not even out on the open road when she’d been free but alone. Safety had always been a luxury. It was something for other people.
She pressed her face into her hands, shoulders shaking as the dam finally broke.
Viper didn’t move for a long moment. Then he rested his hand between her shoulder blades. His touch was tentative, the warmth of his palm grounding her in a way that made her chest ache even harder.
He didn’t say anything else. Viper didn’t try to hush her or tell her it would be okay. He just stayed there, solid, steady, and quiet while she fell apart.
Viper brushed his fingers against the back of her neck once, briefly, before pulling back again, as though the contact burned.
Mara tried to stop crying, tried to pull herself together, but the harder she tried, the more the tears came. It was humiliating, standing there in front of him like that. She’d survived worse, seen worse. Mara shouldn’t be crying now.
However, something about the way he stood there, silent and unmoving, made her feel like she didn’t have to hide it. When she finally looked up, her eyes were rimmed red, lashes damp.
Viper was still there, close enough that she could smell the faint trace of motor oil and leather and something else. Cedar and smoke. His expression hadn’t changed much, but there was something behind his eyes she couldn’t name.
“Feel better?” he asked quietly.
She gave a shaky laugh. “Not really.”
“Didn’t think so.”
He crouched down then, until they were almost eye level. The movement surprised her, but because she had a feeling no man like him ever made himself smaller for anyone.
“What’s going through your head right now?” he asked.
Her lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say. Mara felt fear, relief, and confusion.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I just... I don’t get it. Why you’d help me. Why you’re still here.”
He studied her for a long moment. Viper didn’t stare at her in the way men usually looked at her, hungry and appraising, but searching.
“I told you,” he said. “I don’t like bullies.”
She swallowed hard. “You don’t even know me.”
He gave a faint huff that might’ve been a laugh. “Guess that makes two of us.”
Silence fell again, thick and electric. She should’ve stepped back. Should’ve put space between them. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. There was something about the way he looked at her, like he saw more than she wanted to show.
Up close, his eyes weren’t just gray. They were layered, storm-dark around the edges with a ring of steel near the center. They looked like they’d seen too much, carried too much. For reasons she couldn’t explain, Mara found herself wanting to know what had put that heaviness there.
Her breath caught when he reached up, brushing the back of his fingers lightly across her cheek to wipe away a tear. The touch was fleeting, almost accidental, but it sent a shiver through her all the same.
“Guess I’m not as good at keeping my distance as I thought,” he muttered.
Mara’s heart stumbled. “You don’t have to stay close. I’ll be fine.”
His eyes flicked to hers again, and the faintest smile touched his mouth.
“You really believe that?” Viper asked.
“No,” she whispered.
That seemed to settle something between them.
He stood again, stepping back just enough to give her space. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. You need rest more than I do.”
“I can’t take your bed.”
“Not asking,” he said simply.
There it was again, that rough-edged kindness she didn’t understand. Mara wiped her face, forcing a deep breath. The trembling had eased, but the confusion hadn’t. She didn’t know what to make of him. Everything about him screamed danger, but she didn’t feel afraid.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “For everything.”
Viper nodded once, like it didn’t mean anything. When she turned toward the bed, she caught the way his gaze followed her, thoughtful and unreadable.
She sank down onto the edge of the mattress, suddenly aware of how exhausted she was. The room was dim, the only light coming from the lamp near the dresser. Outside, she could hear the distant rumble of bikes, the echo of laughter from the main hall. In here, though, it was quiet.
“Try to sleep,” Viper said.
She looked at him, silhouetted by the hall light, leather cut hanging open over a black t-shirt, eyes half in shadow.
“Viper?” she said softly.
He looked up.
“If you ever do figure out why you helped me,” she murmured, “let me know.”
“Don’t hold your breath, sweetheart,” Viper replied.
When he turned away, she saw the faintest flicker of something cross his face. Something almost like confusion. Maybe he didn’t know why he’d helped her either.