Chapter 3
The air in my apartment was thick with the savory aroma of the roast simmering in the crockpot, mingling with the faint scent of coffee as Zero and Lady sprawled at my feet, their warm, heavy presence a quiet anchor in the chaos of the day. The laughter and music from the Wolf MC’s BBQ across the complex drifted through the open window, a reminder of my exclusion, but Spirit MC filled the space with warmth.
I hear Star say, “So do you plan to harass anyone who shows up here or just those who consider Layla family? Go back to you party and stay off the property I know the house in in Layla’s name so be careful before we put a security fence around so you cant fuck with her. Get a life and leave the 17 year old girl alone.”
I felt a surge of gratitude for her. “Don’t worry about it. In a few weeks, I’m moving back to Broken Arrow to go to school and open my tattoo shop.”
“Ok, I won't say anything, but if you get hurt, I won't forgive them. Spirit MC is your family, we will never leave you alone.”
We ate, and then they had to leave. Tanner and Star stayed to help clean up. We went outside to the fire pit to start a fire and drink coffee while talking about graduation and opening the shop. We could hear them getting drunk, and still, no one came over to invite me, and my family forgot about me. My wolves were at my feet. Zero’s ears perked up, his body tensing as he stared into the shadows behind me. A voice, sharp and mocking, cut through the crackle of the fire. “Do you think you’re too good to come to the BBQ?”
I turned, my heart thudding, and saw a younger version of Tank—same broad shoulders, same smug tilt to his mouth. His brother, I guessed, his Wolf MC patch gleaming in the firelight. I stood, brushing my hands on my jeans, and faced him.
“Wasn't invited and was told I don't belong so if you have an issue with it take it up with im guessing it is your brother. But in all honesty I don't care to be over there. No one has spoken to me nicely since I got here and I didn’t do shit to any of you so go back to your club patches you just pissed I don’t look at you like you walk on water.”
His face darkened, and stormed off. I sank back into my chair, the adrenaline fading into exhaustion. These next few weeks are gonna suck. I said to myself.
“Well, guys, I’m calling it a night,” I said, standing and brushing ash from my jeans. “You can stay if you want, or I’ll see you in a few days.”
“We’ll stay,” Tanner said, exchanging a look with Star. “We’ll put the fire out and come down when we’re done.”
“The couch has a pull-out bed, and I put a bed in the second bedroom,” I said. “Goodnight.”
I headed inside, locked the door behind me and went to my room. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower, the hot water washing away the day’s tension. I know Tann and Star are staying because they don’t trust them. I like when they are here.
After drying off, I pulled on a soft T-shirt and sweatpants, then closed and locked all the windows. I grabbed a mug of hot tea, the chamomile’s gentle scent calming my nerves, and went to my room. I sat in my bean bag chair and drew the rest of my tattoo and five more for the shop.
I don't sleep well. I had nightmares.
My ex-boyfriend Bobby’s face haunted me—his sneering voice telling me I shouldn’t be upset about Dad’s death, his fists slamming into me, the cold click of a lock trapping me for a weekend of hell. My chest tightened at the memory, my skin prickling as if his hands were still there. I’d been sixteen then, too young to fight back, too scared to scream.
Deacon was out of town with Star and Tann. They are his kids. No one outside the MC. They really want to keep them safe. When Deacon found me, broken and bruised, he didn’t ask questions. He just took me to his mother Etta’s cabin, a quiet place tucked deep in the woods, where the smell of pine and the crackle of her fireplace wrapped around me like a bandage. Etta’s gentle hands and sharp eyes nursed me back to health, her silence giving me space to heal without pushing me to talk.
Mom introduced me to Bobby instead, and her face smiled like she was doing me a favor. Did she know what he was like? The question gnawed at me. She’d never said a word about it since, never asked how I was. Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she’d known all along.
Bobby couldn’t find me now. But I think he's afraid to look, it’s not like I am hiding or anything.
The new threats he’d been sending, texts that lit up my phone with promises of worse if he ever caught me, didn’t scare me like they used to. Bring it, I thought and forwarded the latest message to Tech, Spirit MC’s resident hacker. He’d track Bobby down, dig into his every move. Spirit MC didn’t play games when it came to their own, and I was theirs, whether Mom liked it or not.
Sleep wasn’t coming, not with those memories clawing at me. I glanced at the gym equipment Tanner had set up in the corner of the apartment, where a second dining area would’ve been. Who needs two tables? I thought, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. I was one person, and I’d rather have a punching bag than a place to host dinners no one showed up for. Tanner had hauled in a treadmill, a weight rack, and a mat for sparring, turning my space into a training ground. After Bobby, they’d taught me to fight.
Since I can't sleep, I might as well work out, so I jump on the treadmill.
The machine's hum filled the room as I started a steady jog, the rhythm of my steps drowning out the echoes of Bobby’s voice.
The creak of the floorboards made me pause. Star and Tann heard me and came to check on me, their eyes soft with concern but no pity. They knew better than to ask if I was okay. Star pulled on a pair of boxing gloves, her piercings catching the dim light, while Tanner strapped on pads, his work-calloused hands moving with practiced ease. They didn’t push me to talk, just nodded toward the mat. I stepped off the treadmill, wiping my face with a towel, and grabbed my own gloves.
Star went first, her stance loose but ready. We started with easy combos—left, right, hook, then a sharp kick, the rhythm familiar and grounding. Her punches snapped against my pads, and I returned them, our movements a dance we’d done a hundred times. Back and forth. Tanner watched, his arms crossed, then stepped in, trying to catch me off guard with a quick jab. I saw it coming, sidestepping with a grin—he’d have to try harder than that. Star stepped back, and Tanner lunged, aiming to take me to the mat. I let him, hitting the ground with a controlled thud, his weight pressing me into side control. But I was ready. I shifted my hips, hooking my leg under his, and rolled, flipping him until I was on his back. My arm slid under his chin, locking in a rear-naked choke, my other hand gripping my bicep as I squeezed. He tapped out, laughing as he gasped for air. Now we talk.
The next night, it was just me and my dogs. Star and Tanner had left that morning; they all had work and meetings. The air still carried the faint scent of last night’s roast, and my sketchpad lay open on the table, the dragonfly tattoo half-finished. I’d spent the day training, the treadmill and punching bag wearing down the edges of my nightmares about Bobby. But the quiet felt heavier tonight, the apartment too still without the chatter of my chosen family.
I grabbed the trash bag from the kitchen and slipped on my boots. Zero and Lady stirred, their ears perking up, but I motioned for them to stay. “I’ll be right back,” I said, scratching Zero’s head. The dumpster was just across the lot, so it was a quick trip. I locked the door behind me, the night air cool against my skin, and headed toward the gravel path.
The complex was silent except for the distant hum of a TV somewhere upstairs.
I didn’t hear him until it was too late. A shadow moved behind me, fast and quiet, and before I could turn, a cloth clamped over my mouth, the sharp, chemical smell burning my nose. My body went limp, my vision blurring as the bag slipped from my hand. I tried to scream, to fight, but my limbs were heavy, useless. The last thing I saw was the faint glint of a streetlight before everything went black.
Days bled together, a haze of pain and darkness. I was in and out, my body a prisoner to whatever they’d drugged me with. The world came in fragments—rough hands, sharp stabs of pain, the sickening press of bodies against mine. They left my face alone, but the rest of me… I knew they were raping me. They left my face alone its like I was in and out but could never wake up enough to know who is here.
Then, a voice cut through the haze. “She’s still out? Good.” It was the kid from that first night, Tank’s brother, his smug tone unmistakable. My heart lurched, a spike of fear and rage breaking through the drugged fog. Another voice, colder, crueler, sent ice down my spine. “Told you I’d find her.” Bobby. What the fuck? How did he find me? My thoughts screamed, but my body wouldn’t move. I felt a prick in my arm, a fresh wave of dizziness pulling me under, and then nothing.