The scent hit first: old wood, leather, beer, and something faintly sweet—maybe cologne or furniture polish. Not unpleasant. Justreal.Lived in.
Men in cuts leaned along the bar, patches stitched withSouth Carolina Chapter.Some looked up when we walked in, conversation pausing for a beat before curiosity gave way to the usual noise.
Lucy didn’t blink. She marched forward like she owned the place, tossing waves and jokes like confetti. “Look away, boys. This one’s too good for any of you.”
That earned a few chuckles. Someone whistled. Another man tipped his beer in salute.
“They think they’re God’s gift to women,” she murmured. “You’ll get used to it.”
The woman behind the bar caught my attention next. Blonde hair teased high, sharp eyeliner, confidence that filled the room. When her gaze landed on me, her expression softened just enough to be kind.
“New face,” she said, drying a glass.
Lucy grinned. “This is Lark.” She nodded toward me. “And Lark, this is Brenda. She keeps everyone in line around here.”
“Well, Lark,” Brenda said, studying me, her tone warm but knowing, as if she already had me figured out. “You need anythin’, you let me know.”
“I will,” I said. “I’m trying to start over. Lucy said this is the place to do it.”
Brenda smiled, slow and certain. “Then welcome to the madness, sweetheart. You’ll fit just fine.”
Before I could answer, a man stepped out from the back hall, a broad figure in a black T-shirt and leather vest, tattoos winding down his arms. His hair was so pale it almost caught the light, and when he moved, the air seemed to shift with him. Conversation dipped, quiet as a tide going out.
His eyes had a reddish cast, catching the light like hidden coals.
Devil.
Even before Lucy said his name, I knew. The president.
His gaze swept the room and landed on us—intense, assessing. Not unkind, but steady enough to pin me where I stood.
“Lucy,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying. “This what you wanted to talk to me about?”
Lucy grinned and took my arm, leading me closer. “Yep. This is Lark. She needs a place to start over. I figured she could stay here.”
He studied me for a long moment, unreadable. “You sure you want to stay here instead of with Miriam?”
“Yes, sir,” I said before I could second-guess it, then almost dropped my gaze out of habit. Old reflex. I caught myself halfway down.I was no longer anyone’s servant.
Something flickered in his expression, soft, brief, gone as quick as it came. “We’ll set you up in one of the spare rooms upstairs. Stick close to Lucy for a while.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
His mouth curved, just barely, before he turned and walked off, leaving us in the hum of music and voices.
Lucy nudged me. “Told you he wouldn’t care. Underneath that cold exterior beats a warm heart—I just know it.”
Zeynep’s smile was faint but certain. “Let’s get you settled, Lark.”
I looked around again, the laughter, the heat, the smell of old wood and freedom. It shouldn’t have felt like home, not this loud, wild place filled with strangers and chrome. It should’ve scared me.
But it didn’t.
It feltalive.
And somewhere in this big red-and-black house, I knew there was a man who’d dragged me out of the fire and into this second chance.
Chain.
