Chapter 3
London
My legs threaten to give out, but I force them to keep moving. A part of me wants to turn and run—a very large part of me. But I’m here, I’ve been let in, and it’s time I suck it up and see this through. I really want to meet my father. And… Well, I have nowhere else to go.
The place is huge. I see why they call it a compound. There are several buildings, the largest of which looks as though it may have been a motel at one time. Motorcycles are lined up in perfect rows, and security lights seem to cast everything in deep shadows.
I nervously scan the hard faces. Is one of them my dad?
The man who told them to let me in—I’m pretty sure I heard him called Zeus—stands a few feet away.
He's massive. Tall and broad, with shoulders that could block out the sun. Dark blonde hair, olive skin, and his brown eyes are boring into me like he’s studying me.
He looks mean, and I want to shrink under his gaze, but I don’t.
I know better than to show that kind of weakness in front of these men.
His gaze drops to the gash on my face. Oh, god, I forgot about my messed-up face.
His jaw tightens, his eyes darken. "Who did that to you?"
"It's nothing." The lie comes automatically.
His eyes narrow and his expression suddenly looks even meaner. “That's not what I asked."
Before I can answer, three women materialize in front of me, forming a buffer between me and the wall of intimidating men behind them.
One is small and curvy with honey-colored hair.
Another is a petite blonde with pink tips and an easy smile.
The third is tall with dark-brown skin, kind eyes, and a leather vest that says "Property of Demon" across the back.
"I'm Rowan," the curvy blonde says, her voice warm. "This is Sarah and Kayla."
Rowan loops her arm through mine. "Come on. Let's get you inside."
Zeus opens his mouth like he might protest, but the dark-skinned woman gives him a look that shuts him down.
"We've got her from here, Zeus,” she says firmly.
The three of them guide me away from the wall of hostile, suspicious bikers and toward the main building. I glance back once. Zeus is still watching me, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
Inside, the clubhouse overwhelms me. Music pounds from speakers. The air is thick with smoke and the smell of alcohol and marijuana. There are bodies everywhere—men in leather, women in next to nothing, all of them laughing and drinking and moving like they own the world.
My eyes must be as big as saucers because Kayla smiles sympathetically and pats my arm. "Don't worry. We got you."
They steer me away from the worst of the noise.
"It's a big weekend," Sarah explains as we navigate through the crowd. "Another club's visiting and this is my graduation celebration."
"You graduated?" I ask, latching onto the normal detail like a lifeline.
"Nursing school." Sarah's smile is genuine. "It's been a journey."
We weave through hallways until we reach a quieter section. Kayla pushes open a door to what looks like a break room with smaller couches and a kitchenette. It’s blessedly empty.
"Sit," Rowan orders gently, pointing to a couch.
I sink into it, my legs giving out with relief.
Sarah disappears and returns with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of me, her expression softening as she takes in the cut on my face.
"May I?" she asks, holding up an antiseptic wipe.
I nod.
She cleans the wound with gentle efficiency. No one asks how I got it. No one presses. They just take care of me.
Rowan settles onto the couch beside me. "London's a pretty name."
She’s clearly making an effort at friendly conversation, so I try as well.
“Thanks. My mom picked it." My voice sounds rusty. "She said she wanted me to sound sophisticated."
Kayla smiles softly. "It does."
"So…I don't mean to be rude, but is my father here? Can I—"
"He's not here—" Kayla starts to say, but Rowan interrupts.
"—right now." Rowan's tone is gentle but firm. "He's not here right now."
"But you're welcome to stay until we can sort things out," Sarah adds as she spreads an antiseptic ointment on my face and covers it with a gauze pad.
"Sort things out?" I lean forward. "What do you mean? Do you know when he'll be back?"
Another suspiciously exchanged glance. Sarah opens her mouth, then closes it.
"That's something Zeus needs to talk to you about," Kayla says finally.
"Zeus is the big scary one who let me in, right?”
Rowan grins. "He's the club Road Captain. He's been…not exactly himself lately. But he's good people under the gruff exterior."
"He looks like he wants to kill someone," I mutter.
"He usually does," Kayla agrees, then quickly adds, "But not you. He won't hurt you."
Before I can ask what she means, the door opens and a half-clothed woman slinks in. She’s a platinum blonde, impossibly tan, and wearing a leather bra and a skirt that barely qualifies as fabric. Her eyes sweep over me with obvious disdain.
"Who's the stray?" she asks, addressing the other women but staring at me.
"She's a guest," Sarah says, her voice cooling several degrees.
"Guest." The woman laughs. It's not a nice sound. "That what we're calling them nowadays?”
"Kandi." Rowan's voice sharpens. "Back off."
Kandi shrugs, but her gaze lingers on me—assessing and dismissing, before she turns and walks out, her hips swaying deliberately.
"Ignore her," Kayla says. "She's harmless."
I don't believe that for a second.
"Kandi's what we call a cut slut," Sarah explains, seeing my confusion. "She services the single brothers. It's…" She searches for words. "It's part of the culture here."
My face must show my shock because Rowan jumps in.
"It's consensual. They're not forced. But there's a hierarchy among women here." She gestures to herself, then Sarah and Kayla. "We're ol' ladies."
"Old ladies?" I know my voice must sound incredulous, because none of them can be over twenty-five.
"It doesn't refer to our ages. It's just what we're called. Ol' ladies are claimed."
"Claimed?"
“We belong to a brother. It's like being married in the biker culture." Kayla holds up her wrist, showing a small tattoo. "This is Fury's mark. It means I'm his. Only his. No one else touches me."
"It's more than that, Sarah interjects. “As ol’ ladies, we're also respected and protected by the club."
I process this. "And cut sluts?"
"Available to any brother who wants them," Sarah says bluntly. "No emotional attachment. No commitment. Just…sex."
The concept is so foreign I can't fully wrap my mind around it.
"Don't worry," Rowan adds quickly. "You're not considered a cut slut. You're under Zeus's protection—”
"Under his protection?" I interrupt. "What does that mean?"
Another exchange of looks.
"It means you're safe," Sarah says finally. "No one will touch you. No one will hurt you. Zeus claimed responsibility for you, and that's…um...something."
My stomach twists. "I don't understand."
"It's a lot to take in at once, but you’ll catch on,” Kayla promises.
"Now," Rowan claps her hands together, "there's a party happening out there, and we've got stuff planned all weekend. We're hosting a visiting club, and everyone's celebrating." She looks down at my duffel. "We need to find you a room so you can dump that off and have some fun with us."
“Do we even have any rooms?" Kayla asks Rowan.
"Oh, crap," Rowan says. "We're packed in like sardines this weekend. I don’t think there are any vacant rooms in the clubhouse."
My stomach drops. "Oh. I can—I'll figure something—"
"Put her stuff in my room," a gruff voice announces, and we all turn to see Zeus's large presence filling the doorframe. "She'll room with me."
There’s a long moment of silence.
Then the girls share looks again—they seem to do that a lot.
"Oh, for fuck's sake,” he growls, “I’m not gonna molest the girl."
That seems to allow the others to release a breath.
"It'll be the safest place for you right now," Sarah assures me quickly.
Safe. That word again. As if being in the personal space of a man who keeps mean-mugging me and looks like he could break me in half like a twig is somehow safe.
"I don't—" I start.
"It's decided," Rowan says firmly.
Kayla stands, pulling me with her. "Come on, we'll show you where it is, and then we'll get to partying."