Chapter Four
Not Property
Raven
The Sons of Sin don’t stare at me anymore.That’s how I know something has changed.
When I first walked through those gates, every set of eyes followed me like I was either prey or a bomb, something to be used or something about to go off.Men assessed me in quick, brutal increments—threat level, usefulness, whether Savage would break someone’s neck if they touched me wrong.
Now?Now they look past me.Not dismissive.Not careless.But intentional.
I’m part of the scenery.Accounted for.Filed away underknown variableinstead ofproblem.That kind of shift doesn’t happen overnight in a place like this.It happens because people decide you’re real.
I feel it in the way the morning moves around me.The compound wakes in stages, engines coughing to life, boots crunching over gravel, and low voices trading information that sounds casual if you don’t know what to listen for.I sit at the scarred wooden table near the kitchen with a mug of coffee that Mama M insists is strong enough to wake the dead.
She’s right.I’m three sips in when a prospect approaches, hesitant but not scared.He’s holding a clipboard like it might explode.
“Uh ...Raven?”
I look up.“Yeah?”
“Would you mind taking a look at this?”He holds it out, glancing toward the yard where half a dozen bikes are lined up like they’re waiting for orders.“Mama said you’d ...probably know.”
That makes my mouth twitch.
“Probably,” I repeat, taking the clipboard.
It’s a supply list.Messy handwriting.Someone double-counted fuel and undercounted ammo, rookie mistake.I scan it quickly, marking corrections.
“You shorted yourself on mags,” I say, handing it back.“And you don’t stack fuel like that unless you want a very bad afternoon.”
His shoulders relax.“Right.Yeah.That makes sense.”
“Name?”I ask.
“Tyler.”
“Good work bringing it before someone yelled at you, Tyler.”I nod toward the yard.“Go fix it.”
He smiles, actually smiles, and heads off.Mama M watches the exchange from the stove, pretending she isn’t clocking every second of it.When Tyler is out of earshot, she snorts.
“You collecting strays now?”
“Only the useful ones.”
She grins.“That’s how it starts.After a while you end up where I am.”She gestures to the club house around her, and I can’t fight my smile, imagining her picking up Savage and Saint as strays.
I take another sip of coffee, leaning back in my chair.“Savage say anything?”
Mama M’s smile sharpens.“About you?Not a word.”
