Chapter 1 - Hawk
I hit the throttle hard as the "Welcome to Hope Peak" sign comes into view, my Harley's engine growling beneath me like it shares my rage. Two years away from this place, and it takes just one phone call to drag me back. One terrified phone call from the only woman who's ever mattered.
*"Tyler, please. I don't know what to do anymore. He's going to kill me."*
Olivia's voice has been echoing in my head for the past six hours straight, ever since her call woke me at 3 AM. I left the clubhouse before dawn, telling Reaper only what he needed to know. The president of the Outlaw Order MC didn't ask questions. He just nodded, told me to handle it, and promised backup if I needed it.
That's family. The only real family I've had since I left the military.
I ease off the throttle as I hit the town limits. Hope Peak hasn't changed. Same rundown gas station on the corner, same diner where high school kids still hang out on Friday nights, same Christmas tree that can be seen from anywhere around town, same small-town vibe that once suffocated me. Now it just feels like a battlefield I need to navigate.
My leg aches from the long ride, the old injury flaring up like it always does after hours on the bike. Eight years in the military, one IED, and four surgeries later, I've got a permanent reminder of what happens when missions go wrong. I flex my knee at a stoplight, trying to work out the stiffness.
The town seems smaller than I remember. Or maybe I'm just bigger now. Not in size, but in experience. I've seen things most people in Hope Peak couldn't imagine. Done things I don't talk about. The patch on my cut reading "PROSPECT" is new to me,but I've already earned respect in the Outlaw Order. I'm just waiting on the formality of full membership.
I turn down Maple Street, where Olivia's little blue house sits three doors from the corner. My heart pounds against my ribs. Two years of forcing myself not to think about her, and now I'm minutes away from seeing her face again.
The house looks quiet as I pull up across the street. No Christmas decorations. No extra cars in the driveway. Good. I don't want to deal with Devin right off the bat. I need to see Olivia first, assess the situation before I put that piece of shit in the ground.
Because that's what's going to happen. I've known it since I heard her voice trembling on the phone. Nobody hurts what's mine and keeps breathing.
Except she's not mine. Never has been. That's the thought that's been tearing me apart for years.
I dismount, ignoring the protest from my bad leg, and cross the street. The wintery morning sun casts long shadows across the porch as I climb the steps. I check my cut from habit—knife in the inner pocket, 9mm tucked in my waistband at the small of my back. Not that I expect trouble right now, but eight years in combat zones teaches you to always be prepared.
I knock three times, soft but firm. Wait. Listen.
Movement inside. Hesitant footsteps.
"Who is it?" Her voice is barely audible through the door.
"It's me, Liv. Tyler."
The door opens just a crack, and then I see her. Just one blue eye visible through the narrow opening, wide with something between relief and fear.
"You actually came." Her voice cracks.
"I told you years ago. You call, I come. No questions."
The door opens wider, and the sight of her hurts me. Olivia stands before me in a loose sweater, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. But it's the fading yellow bruise around her left eye that makes my blood run cold.
"Jesus, Liv." I step forward without thinking, my hand reaching up to gently tilt her face toward the light.
She flinches at first, a reflexive movement that tells me more than words could but then forces herself to be still as my fingers hover near her cheek. Her eyes widen as she takes in my appearance, lingering on my leather cut with the Outlaw Order MC patches.
"Tyler, what is?" Her question trails off, confusion blending with the fear already in her eyes. "It's not as bad as it looks," she adds, deflecting, the lie so practiced it almost sounds believable.
"Don't." The word comes out sharper than I intend. I take a breath, soften my tone. "Don't lie to me. Not now."
She steps back, letting me inside before closing the door quickly behind us. The house is tidy but feels hollow somehow, like it's missing the warmth homes should have. No photos on the walls. No personal touches. Just a shell where someone exists rather than lives.
"He's at work," she says, answering my unspoken question. "Won't be back until six."
I nod, taking in everything about her. She's thinner than I remember, her curves slightly less pronounced, like stress has been eating away at her. But her eyes… Those clear blue eyes that have haunted my dreams for years, they're still Olivia's. Somehow still hopeful despite everything.
"Since when are you in a motorcycle club?" she asks, her eyes still fixed on my cut.
"About a year after I left," I say, not offering more details. "It's complicated."
