Chapter One #2
Behind us, I secured our safety -- door shut, deadbolt slid home, chain hooked. Each lock clicked into place with solid finality. The tension in Jade’s frame eased a fraction. A flicker of relief appeared, only to be immediately overwhelmed by fear.
“Sit.” My hand gestured toward the couch. “Water? Coffee? Something stronger?”
Her attention caught on my waistband, and I wondered if I’d turned just enough for her to spot my Glock. After swallowing hard, she averted her eyes -- unwilling to appear intimidated by a weapon in a biker’s home. “Water,” she managed. “Please.”
I moved into the kitchen and filled a glass. Pipes clanked. Tap ran cold. I set the glass on the coffee table in front of her and crouched down across from her, far enough not to crowd.
The purple bruise on her cheekbone stood out in stark relief under my living room light. Along her neck, a faint scratch trailed downward before vanishing beneath her coat collar. Near the elbow, her torn sleeve revealed a spreading dark stain.
“Tell me what happened,” I said.
Jade fixed her gaze on the water glass as though it contained all the answers she needed. Beneath her crossed arms, her fingers dug into her own ribs, clutching herself in a desperate self-embrace. Each breath came shallow and uneven, her chest rising and falling in an irregular rhythm.
Words finally spilled out, rough and uneven. “He came to my apartment. I thought the locks would hold -- I changed them. I installed a chain. I did everything I could think of.”
“Who?” I kept it simple. Panic made stories tangle.
Her gaze lifted for a fraction, met mine, then dropped again. “The man who says I owe him. The one who’s been watching me.”
My stomach knotted itself. For weeks, rumors circulated through the club about some asshole pressuring vulnerable people around town. He squeezed anyone who seemed an easy mark -- predatory loans, brutal collections, interest compounding faster than mold after rain.
Until now, I’d had no idea Jade numbered among his victims. “Name.”
She swallowed. “Roth.”
A slow burn crawled up my spine. The name rang familiar to every member of our club. Though not cartel-level -- at least not that we knew – but his connections made him a genuine threat. In his world, money and intimidation purchased anything he desired. “How long has he been after you?”
Her answer came thin. “A while. I didn’t understand they’d come after me until it was already too late.”
Anger rolled slowly through my chest, heavy and dark. “Your brother owed Roth money.”
“Yes, and then he got arrested. I thought the worst part had passed. I thought whatever mess he’d made stayed his problem. Those were his choices. Not mine.”
“Men like Roth don’t care about differences,” I said.
Jade nodded, eyes glassy. “A month after my brother went to prison, they appeared at my door. Called me part of the collateral. Somehow they’d learned where I work, where I live, when I came and went.
Even my friends’ names.” Her voice trembled.
“When I explained about having no money, their response was simple -- other payment methods existed.”
My jaw clenched until it ached. “Did they touch you?”
The color vanished from her face. She froze, then gave a single shake of her head.
“They tried,” she whispered. “Made their point clear enough. A neighbor walking down the hall interrupted before…” She swallowed hard.
“Afterward, I never answered knocks. Changed my routes home. Slept fully dressed because their return seemed inevitable.”
Unwanted scenes played across my mind while my fists curled, hungry for contact. “Why seek me out at our gate?” The question emerged harsher than intended.
A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away. “You helped me near the grocery when I had a flat tire. You even followed me home to make sure I made it safely.”
Prospects rarely dated if they wanted a patch. Our time belonged to the club. An easy lay was one thing, but I’d wanted more from her.
“You were kind. You didn’t make me feel stupid.
You didn’t ask for anything.” She sniffed hard.
“When I saw you the next week at the diner, you remembered my name.” Her voice broke at the last word.
“Whenever I saw you after that, I felt… safe. Not once did you look at me as though I were a problem.” Her shoulders curled inward.
“People talked about the club. Some claimed you were dangerous. Others said nobody messed with anyone under your protection. In my mind, if anyone could keep Roth away, it would be you.”
Shame spread across her expression, suggesting she expected mockery for trusting rumors and a Prospect who hadn’t been patched in yet. I sat there and felt responsibility settle in my bones.
“Tonight he kicked my door open.” Her words came faster now, panic rising again.
“Locks slowed him down, but not enough. He came in angry. He said I was ignoring his calls. He said I was running out of chances.” One hand twisted her sleeve tight.
“He threw my coffee table. He pulled my hair. He told me I didn’t understand what he could do. ”
My hands clenched. “How did you get away?”
“The phone in his pocket buzzed and distracted him.” Her chest heaved with shallow breaths.
“He spat curses, then announced he’d return later.
The way he strode out, as though he owned every inch of the building, made me think he’d get back into my apartment no matter what I did.
” A hard swallow caught in her throat. “I bolted. Grabbed my keys and my emergency cash. No clothes. Nothing else mattered. I drove for miles while headlights in my rearview mirror transformed into his pursuing car.” Her gaze lifted and locked on mine.
“I didn’t think it through. My head kept screaming one thing. Find Kane.”
I knew all of that.
Jade sat trembling on my couch, a purple bruise stark against her pale skin. Sending her away would be condemning her to a grave. “Did you call the cops?” I asked.
A harsh laugh escaped her, ugly and bitter.
“Weeks ago. I tried. Filed a report. Nothing happened.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself.
“The next day one of his men sat in my diner, smiling as though we shared some private joke.” Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper.
“When I returned to follow up, suddenly nobody had time. My problem was mine alone.”
I blew out a slow breath, forcing my anger down into something useful. Rage didn’t help Jade, didn’t protect her. It could get me killed and get the club dragged into a mess at the wrong angle.
Atilla needed to hear her full story. Through Tinker, he knew about her arrival at the gate, but the President remained unaware of crucial details. Rising from my seat, I pulled out my phone to check the time. Late.
Too damn late for another call without pissing him off. Mostly because a ringing phone would wake the kids. Still, he knew she was here. Surely, he expected me to reach out? Yeah, silence would enrage him more when everything eventually surfaced.
When I faced Jade again, her gaze followed my movements with resignation, as though she already saw herself being escorted back into the darkness beyond our compound.
“I’m calling my President,” I said. “He needs your story from you, but he needs to know the basics right now.”
Fear flickered bright. “He’s going to send me away.”
“He might want to.” I couldn’t lie to her. “I won’t let you walk alone tonight.”
Tears gathered again, but she blinked them back hard. Her chin lifted a fraction, stubbornness showing through fear. She looked like she hated needing anyone. So did I.
I called Atilla.
Two rings. He answered, voice rough, awake. “Talk.”
“She’s inside my house now. The gate opened on your order. Roth broke into her apartment earlier. Grabbed her hair, threw furniture around. His phone rang, pulled him away. Before he left, he promised to return. She fled straight to our compound, terrified and alone.”
Silence sat heavy on the line for a beat. “What else?” Atilla asked.
“Brother went to prison. Debt started there. They called her collateral. She tried cops. No help.” I kept it tight. “She came because she trusted me.”
“Bring her to Church,” he said. “Now.”
Relief hit hard, then tension followed. Church meant judgment. Church meant the whole table watching. Jade had enough fear already. Still, the club needed facts, and Atilla wouldn’t make decisions without looking the problem in the face. “I’m on my way,” I said.
Atilla ended the call. I lowered my phone and met Jade’s gaze. She looked like she’d already guessed what the next step would be. “He wants to see you,” I said. “In Church.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “He thinks I’m lying.”
“He thinks careful keeps people alive.” I moved toward the hook by the door, grabbed my spare helmet. “He’ll want the truth. You give it. You don’t hide anything because shame never saved anyone.”
Her throat bobbed. “If he says no?”
“Then I argue.” I kept my voice steady. “You’re not alone.”
Doubt shadowed her expression. Still, she nodded.
We stepped outside. Cold bit hard. Security lights cast long shadows across gravel. The compound stayed quiet, but cameras watched everything. Somewhere in the distance, a door closed. A dog barked once, then stopped. Jade flinched at the bark.
I kept my hands at my sides, not reaching for her, giving her space to breathe. Still, I stayed close enough to block her from the open walkway. If anyone did something stupid, they’d go through me first.
My bike waited where I’d left it earlier, black and familiar under the lights. I held the helmet out. “Ever worn one of these?”
Head shook slowly.
“This goes over your head.” I tapped the inside padding. “Chin strap snaps under here. Might feel boxed in. Better than eating pavement.”
She swallowed hard. “Okay.”
I held it steady while she slid it on. Hair snagged. I freed it, adjusted the strap, and made sure nothing pinched. “Tight?” I asked.
“Tight.”
“Good.” I nodded. “It stays put.” I swung onto the bike and started it. The rumble cut through the quiet and settled something in my chest. Machines made sense. Men like Roth didn’t. I held my hand out. “Climb on. Right leg over.”
She hesitated, then took my hand. Her movements stayed careful, controlled. Hands landed at my sides first, tentative.
“Closer,” I said. “Wrap your arms around me. If you get scared, lean into me.”
Her arms slid around my waist. She pressed in, trembling.
A beat passed. I let her find her balance, then eased the throttle and rolled toward the clubhouse.
We passed the guard shack. Tinker stood outside, watching, gaze tracking us until we turned away.
The gate stayed shut behind him. Beyond the fence, the road lay dark.
No headlights crept along the fence line. Still, I didn’t relax.
The ride to the clubhouse passed fast. The main building sat at the center of the compound, solid and familiar, lights glowing in several windows. Bar area stayed dark this late, yet the back sections never slept. Club business didn’t care about hours.
I pulled into a spot near the front door and killed the engine. Jade clung to me like her hands had fused to my jacket. “We stopped,” I said softly. “You can let go.”
Her arms loosened in stages. She slid off the seat, boots hitting ground and wobbling. One hand grabbed the bike for balance. I swung off and steadied her by the elbow. “First ride is strange,” I said. “You did fine.”
A shaky laugh slipped out. “Felt like flying and falling.”
“Yeah.” My mouth tightened. “That tracks.”
I unfastened her helmet strap and lifted it off. Wind had tangled her hair. She pushed it back, cheeks flushed from cold and fear.
“Inside,” I said. “Stay close.”
The clubhouse door creaked when I pulled it open. Smoke, old beer, leather, faint cleaner rolled out. These walls held the club’s pulse. Fights ended here. Deals got made. Lives got changed.
Two brothers sat at a side table playing cards. Knuckles and Truth. Both looked up, gaze sliding to Jade, then to me. Curiosity hung thick, but nobody spoke. Atilla had called us to Church. That meant questions waited. Truth jerked his chin toward the hall. “Church.”
I nodded and guided Jade past the bar. My hand hovered near her back, not touching unless she needed grounding. She walked stiffly, careful, gaze flicking to every doorway, every shadow.
At the end of the hall stood the Church door. Years ago, someone had burned the Savage Raptors’ patch deep into the wood. The mark remained dark and permanent. A warning.
Jade stopped beside me. Her fingers brushed my sleeve by accident. “You stand behind me if you need to.”
Tears threatened again, but she nodded and blinked hard.
“Ready?” I asked.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Kane hit the door with two sharp knocks.
From inside came a single word, firm and unmistakable. “Enter.”
I pushed the door open and guided her through.
The room swallowed us. Long table. Patches lining the walls. Atilla at the head, General on his right, Spade on his left. Other patched brothers filled seats down the sides. Hard faces. Sharp gazes. No smiles. No comfort.
Jade’s breath caught. Her fear hit the room.
Atilla’s gaze moved from me to her, slow and assessing. “So,” he said. “You’re Jade.”
Jade straightened, stepped forward a fraction, and met his stare. Her voice shook, but she didn’t look away. “Yes. I am.”
Something shifted in the room, a silent recognition passing between men who understood fear -- and understood strength even better.
I stood at my proper spot as a Prospect. Still, I didn’t step away from her. Not tonight. Jade came to our gate because she believed I could keep her alive. Now I had to prove she hadn’t been wrong.