Chapter 1 – Chaos
The morning sun burns through the clubhouse windows as I finish my third cup of coffee, watching King and Luna sitting close on the couch across from me. His hand rests on her knee like it's the most natural thing in the world, and she leans into him without even thinking about it.
I drain the last of my coffee and stand, stretching my arms over my head until my shoulders crack. The movement makes my shirt ride up, exposing the tattoos covering my ribs, a reminder of how far I've come.
"Heading out?" King asks.
"Yeah, need to check on my bike," I say. "Plus, I'm getting restless just sitting around."
Luna smiles at me. "You could help us plan the expansion. We need someone with fresh eyes."
I shake my head. "Business planning isn't my thing. I'll leave that to the smart people."
King's mouth twitches like he wants to smile. "You're smarter than you give yourself credit for, prospect."
The word "prospect" stings less than it used to, but I still can't wait for the day when it's gone. Two months since we took down the Iron Eagles. Two months of proving myself over and over again. I thought after everything, after helping rescue those women, after standing with Shadow when bullets were flying, that maybe I'd get patched in immediately.
But King runs this club with discipline, and I respect that. Even if the waiting makes me want to punch something.
"I'll see you both later," I say, heading toward the door.
Outside, the early morning air feels good against my skin. Blackwater Falls is quiet this time of day, the streets mostly empty except for a few early risers heading to work. I walk toward the garage where my bike sits, my boots heavy against the pavement.
My Harley gleams in the morning light. I spent hours yesterday making sure every inch of chrome shines perfectly. The bike is mine, paid for with money I earned breaking my back at that goddamn lumber mill. Every time I look at it, I remember the day I bought it, remember how my hands shook as I signed the papers.
Freedom. That's what this bike means to me.
I run my hand along the seat, checking the leather for any wear. Everything looks good, but I need to change the oil soon. The routine maintenance keeps me busy, gives me something to focus on besides the restless energy constantly buzzing under my skin.
"Looking good, Chaos."
I turn to find Steel walking toward me, his hands already stained with oil even though it's barely eight in the morning. The guy lives in this garage.
"Just checking her over," I say. "You're here early."
He shrugs. "Couldn't sleep. Holly was having nightmares again."
My jaw tightens. Holly's been through hell, and even though the Iron Eagles are gone, the trauma lingers. "She doing okay?"
"Better each day." Steel's expression softens when he talks about her. "She's strong as hell. Stronger than she knows."
I nod, not sure what else to say. Relationships confuse me, always have. My parents' marriage was a war zone where I was the collateral damage, and I swore I'd never put myself in thatposition. But watching my brothers with their women, seeing how they've changed...
Maybe some people can make it work.
Just not me.
"Need help with anything?" I ask, changing the subject.
Steel considers for a moment. "Actually, yeah. Tank's bike needs a new chain. You up for it?"
"Definitely."
We work in silence for the next hour. This is what I'm good at. The physical work, the tangible problems with clear solutions. Not business plans or emotional conversations, but grease and metal and engines that either run or don't.
By the time we finish, sweat drips down my back despite the morning chill. I wipe my hands on a rag, studying our work with satisfaction.
"Good job," Steel says, clapping me on the shoulder. "You've got good instincts with bikes."
