The relentless pursuit blurred into a terrifying montage of flashing headlights and roaring engines. The wind tore at my grip, a cruel reminder of my precarious hold on safety. Indigo, my solid anchor, was the only thing tethering me to reality. Eros, a silent hawk, kept his eyes peeled, his posture radiating a desperate tension. Then, as if conjured from the very storm brewing in the sky, another squadron of bikes appeared on the horizon heading straight for us, a swarm of them, their black jackets bearing the unmistakable, jagged wings of Satan’s Angels.
Indigo cursed, his voice strained. “Fuck!” As his bike skidded to a stop, the tires leaving streaks of black tar on the road, the realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. This wasn’ta pursuit; it was an ambush, a coordinated attack, and we were caught in the middle.
“We have to go off-road,” Indigo gritted out, his eyes darting to the dense tree line bordering the road. “It’s our only chance,” he shouted as I squeezed my eyes shut, the faces of Jackson, my brother, and Daphne flashing through my mind, a sickening knot of dread tightening in my gut.
This was it.
The end. My life—a flicker extinguished before it truly began. Then, a thunderous boom rocked the air, shattering the silence and the certainty of my impending demise. Several bikers in black leather, a blur of defiance, plowed through the coming throng of Satan’s Angels. Gunshots ripped through the early morning light, a chaotic symphony of violence. They were killing the riders, my tormentors, and as they sped past, a wave of horrified relief washed over me. They were heading for the retreating bikers behind us—those I was supposed to die with, those I had been forced to endure, to survive.
My mind screamed at me to run, to escape this carnage, but my body was stone as I watched the massacre before me. Then a strong, muscular rider dressed in black leather, long black hair flowing behind him, pulled up right beside us. His eyes were so clear blue, so deadly, it felt as if he could see right into the heart of my soul as he quickly scanned me from head to toe, then he growled, “Get my daughter-in-law the fuck out of here. Now.”
Before I could process his words, Indigo peeled away, leaving our saviors to deal with the carnage behind us.
It was close to midday when Indigo and Eros slowed their bikes and turned left, the rumble of their engines a nervouspulse in the otherwise still air as we pulled to a stop in front of the Silver Shadows’ compound. My gut twisted.
This was it.
Would they allow us in or not?
A man wearing a Silver Shadow cut stepped out of the guard shack, his face a mask of practiced indifference. He took one look at us, and for a fleeting second, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. Disdain? Or was it just his own paranoia? He shook his head and walked back into the shack, the click of the door echoing like a judgment.
Moments later, the gate creaked open, a groan of rusty hinges that sounded like a warning as we pulled into the compound, and with it, a fresh wave of dread washed over me.
Another clubhouse.
Another place where I knew no one.
Another place where I would be judged.
As Indigo parked his bike and cut off the engine, I couldn’t move as my fear tightened in my gut. I wanted Jackson. Needed him like never before, and the thought of him not being here scared me. I didn’t know this club. Where they like the Golden Skulls? Would they care enough to help, or would they wash their hands of me and send me packing?
“It’s going to be okay, Karlyn,” I heard Indigo say. “You’re safe here.”
“I’m not safe anywhere,” I muttered slowly, getting off his bike and removing my helmet. Handing it to him, I looked around the compound, noticing that club brothers were armed as they patrolled the area, all stopping to get a good look at me. I could see the apprehension in their eyes. Each of them wondering what kind of new hell I was bringing to their doorstep.
Eros walked over to me and smiled. “Come on. Let’s get you inside, babe.”
Chapter Thirteen
Karlyn
The Silver Shadows’ clubhouse was like most clubhouses. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the familiar smell of leather, grease, and booze assaulted my nose. The gathering room was massive, with a scattering of sofas, tables, and chairs, a bar off to the left spanning the length of the wall. Alcohol lined the wall behind it, with stools placed close to the bar. Brothers milled around, some watching an enormous flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, while others were just talking amongst themselves. Posters, pictures and the club’s emblem adorned the back wall, drawing my gaze.
Like I said, it was a typical biker clubhouse. A place I swore I’d never set foot in again, a promise I’d clung to like a life raft after... after everything I’d survived.
Yet here I was, the stale air a suffocating reminder of everything I’d tried to outrun. Indigo and Eros, my two stoic anchors in my turbulent existence, stood by my side, their silent presence a shield in the coming storm.
Standing next to them, I looked about the room when my eyes landed on a familiar face. Someone I hadn’t seen in years, long before my life irrevocably changed for the worst. It had been so long since I’d last seen him, yet he hadn’t changed a bit. He was still tall and wide as an oak tree, and yet, he was a friendly face I desperately needed. He was a ghost from a past I’d meticulously buried, a past tied to secrets that could shatter the fragile peace I’d so painstakingly built. My heart thuddeda frantic, unwelcome rhythm against my ribs. To acknowledge him would be to invite the old darkness back, to risk exposing what I’d become, a person I barely recognized, and a past I desperately wanted to keep hidden. But the loneliness, the gnawing emptiness that had become my constant companion, clawed at me. This man, while a warm welcome, was a sliver of light in the suffocating reminder of a life I couldn’t outrun.
My choice felt like stepping off a cliff, unsure if there was ground below or just more empty air. Walking over to him, my feet felt heavy, each step a betrayal of the new me, yet a desperate plea for the old. I stopped before him and whispered, my words barely forming syllables, “Sebastian?”
Looking down at me, his eyes widened as he grinned. “Karlyn Ingalls? What the fuck are you doing here?”
I smirked. “Long story. How much time do ya have?”
He smiled before lifting me off my feet and spinning me around in his comforting embrace. Hugging him for dear life, I let my fears fade away, as the warmth of his arms provided a stark contrast to the icy dread that had been my constant companion.
Sebastian. He was here. Someone who knew me. Someone who wouldn’t flinch at the whispers of my past, someone who could shield me until I was whole again and reunited with Jackson. But even as I clung to him, a sliver of unease pricked at me. This sanctuary, this moment of peace, felt fragile.
