Chapter 11
SOREN
This cig isn’t calming me like I need it to. A smoke break on what is supposed to be neutral territory is supposed to be peaceful. Calming even. Lately we’ve had to stomp on the meaning of peaceful territory and keep our guards up.
Other clubs have discovered our protected spot in little ol’ Maine and decided to test how serious we are about our territory. They are finding out we very much are serious.
“What’s this MC’s name anyways?” Red says, blowing smoke.
Red is my only friend among the Wolves. We’re the outcasts at the club, him being an omega and me being the brother of traitors. Still, Midnight Wolves is our home. We’re loyal despite being undermined.
We got closer after we both presented, him as an omega, me as a beta. Finding solace in being the unexpected. We both were supposed to be alphas. As if our designations dictate who we are, or what we can be.
White Pine Crest has a small laundromat right outside the local college’s dorms. Tons of college kids come to do their laundry, hang out. The college and its associated spaces are considered neutral territories. No gain in harming students, right?
The side of the laundromat was the smoker’s spot. Also the spot for my damn brothers to request my presence whenever they want to meet.
Rocker and Lightning, their road names, are alphas. They are twins older than me by three years and they never let me forget it. When I presented as a beta, god, that was hell on earth. Or at least I thought that was.
Little did I know, it’d get worse. So much worse.
I presented fresh at eighteen and that is when things went from sugar to shit.
I had two loving parents, both part of the Midnight Wolves.
They both rode and loved the neighborhood.
My mom, Mary, wasn’t a brawler but she’d wrangle the Bar, put her hands in whenever she could.
My father, Joseph, was everything. He was a Rider, a brawler, a man you couldn’t disrespect.
You couldn’t disrespect anyone within a mile radius of him.
No woman, child, or man. He didn’t take that shit, so how my brothers turned out the way they did… I can’t explain it.
Maybe they knew a different man than I did? My brothers were the normal older brothers you see in movies and books. They teased, sure, but brothers always had your back. But one day, that switch flipped and they became assholes.
I tried to figure out what happened. What made them turn on me, my parents.
They started getting in trouble in school, which pissed off Prez.
They started smoking and drinking, which is normal in teen years but they took it to another level.
I hadn’t seen them sober once in over a year the last time I saw them.
They were wild, messy, and I know they did shit the MC would never stand for.
Dad knew too. He went to go save their asses the night he died.
The night that changed everything.
“Eastern Outlaws,” I mutter. That's the MC my brothers left the Midnight Wolves for.
“What a fucking stupid name,” Reed mutters while taking out his cigarette.
“You’re telling me.” Their morals are loose as hell. They might as well be nonexistent. That's why my brothers liked them.
We aren't good guys. None of us is, and we’re not stupid to that. But civilians shouldn’t have to pay for MC business.
It’s really that simple.
A concept none of these newbies can seem to get through their thick skulls.
“Here they come. You want me to stay?” Red asks, rolling up his sleeves.
“Nah, I got it,” I answer, not wanting Red to hear the shit they are about to spew. It’s the same shit since they joined the Eastern Outlaws and it’s fucking embarrassing, but I can’t seem to let them go quite yet. They are my brothers. They’re the only family I have left.
My dad died during a shootout a few days after my birthday by another MC trying to take over ours. I always wonder if my dad hadn’t followed my brothers into the trap, would he still be alive today?
That MC is dead and gone now, Prez killing the leaders and scaring off the rest, but the wound on us, on me, lingers.
When my dad died, my mom died inside. I took care of her shell, alone, as my brothers ran off to fuck knows where.
I had to watch her body decay in front of my eyes.
I couldn’t do shit to save her and there was no way I could ever leave her.
She truly died from heartbreak, six months after her soulmate.
Then I was all alone.
My brothers left right after Dad died. They tried to get me to go with them at first, but I’m loyal to a fault, thank god.
I see them at the treeline, lining the forest that covers this side of the building. They walk up to me, punching each other and laughing. They look a hot fucking mess.
Rocker has more tattoos, almost as many as I do. Except his are of pinup girls and other racy scenes. Mine are more… personal. I have “Wolves” written across my knuckles, a cathedral on my back, which hurt like a bitch but looks sick.
I guess I can't judge his tattoos. They probably think mine are stupid as shit too.
We have the same brown hair except theirs is already thinning and stringy from lack of hygiene. As they get closer, a funk follows them.
“God fucking damn,” I snarl as they get closer. That damn smell.
“You’re not a damn alpha, cut it out,” Rocker snaps at me and I roll my eyes.
“Don't take being an alpha to know when to take a damn shower,” I say, refusing to move from my spot leaning against the brick wall.
“Don’t need to shower.”
“My burning nose hairs say something different.”
“That's not what we're here to talk about,” Lightning says. His hair is longer than Rocker’s and mine, kept in a ponytail. His skin wasn't as greasy as Rocker’s but pretty damn close. “Our weekly reminder of the offer still stands. Let us be brothers again, Soren. Join us.”
I sigh, looking out to the street. College kids in varsity jackets, backpacks strapped to their backs, laughing and talking as they hang in the parking lot.
For a moment I wonder what it’d be like if I left it all.
Moved across the country, far enough away no one could afford to ride out to find me. Start over.
But my eyes land on my bike, the Midnight Wolves logo on the tank, and I internally smile.
My home is here, with Red and Prez.
“We need to cancel these weekly meetings,” I say. I can’t surround myself with toxicity. And on top of that, maybe if I cut them off I can be more accepted into the fold with the Wolves.
Rocker steps closer. “And miss out on how my baby bro is doing?” He swings his arm, as if to wrap it around my shoulders, but only scrapes it against the brick as I dodge out of the way.
“Yes.”
Lightning stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets. “You’re walking away from an omega? Didn’t think betas were immune,” he says in a singsong voice that makes my skin crawl. How could I fucking forget.
I scoff, turning to leave. “You can’t promise a fucking omega—”
“Eastern Outlaws play by different rules,” Lightning says. “You know that.”
“And when Prez finds out?”
“Ace ain’t my damn Prez and ain’t gonna do shit.”
“Yeah, ’cause you ain’t a snitch,” Rocker adds, hanging off Lightning now.
They were so wrong, I am a snitch. I’m whatever I need to be for Prez, for the Midnight Wolves. For those poor omegas stuck in their nasty hands being sold and forced to be with whoever their President gives them to.
The real reason Red couldn’t be here is because he couldn’t keep his cool. Not when it came to omegas.
I needed to find out if this was a bluff. A way for their Prez to lure people in but never fulfill their promise, hopefully.
“How can I trust you’re telling the truth?” I ask, as if I’m actually considering it. As if an omega would be interested in a beta anyways.
“Because we’re your older brothers.”
“Do you have an omega? Did your Prez actually give you one?”
“Not yet, but he will.”
Ahh. So there’s a chance.
“Has anyone gotten an omega? Bitten them?” I ask. The thought of any of those vile-ass creatures putting their grubby hands on anyone makes me sick, but I need to know.
Rocker scuffs the heel of his boot against the ground. “Prez has. There’s a list. We can put your name on it. Better yet, we could Pack up and share an omega."
So there's no omegas then. Good. We're not dealing with trafficking for now, at least. Hopefully there were no plans to change that and it really was just a lie their president put together to get people to follow him.
“Yeah, no. I’m good,” I say before walking away and waving a hand back to them without another look at their worthless asses.
If Prez didn't need me to meet with them again, I wouldn't be back. I’d never see their ugly mugs again.
“Love you, brother!” Lightning yells after me. I flip them off without turning around.
In my haste to get back to my bike, I hear a small yelp before I feel someone crashing into me. My hands instantly go to catch the person. A her, based on the size of her arms I’m grasping to keep her from keeling over. Looking down, I see dark hair and precariously tilted laundry baskets.
“I’m sorry!” the woman yells and tries to catch her clothes before they hit the ground. I grab them too, narrowly saving her from having to wash them again.
“It's okay,” I grumble, holding out her laundry basket. Her perfume is strong. I’ve never smelt a woman's perfume so strongly before. Normally I never do. Not nearly as strong as a men’s cologne, but hers… hers actually smells good.
I try to step around her, and I feel her hand lightly graze my side as I keep walking even though every cell in my body begs me not to.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
Revving my bike, I pull out of the parking lot, riding slowly. So slowly. I ride further and further away and yet… I see her in my mirror. Getting smaller and smaller as she stands frozen. Why am I even giving her a second thought?
I shake my head, focusing on moving forward. I need to get home. Wash this cranberry scent off of me.