Chapter5
773 Words
The sun was sinking behind the treeline when Rae stepped out of the clubhouse, the ledger tucked under her arm. The air was sharp with gasoline and pine, the gravel lot glowing orange under the dying light. She needed space. Quiet. A moment to think without the weight of a hundred suspicious eyes.
She didn’t get it.
A shadow peeled away from the row of bikes.
“Callahan.”
Rae didn’t stop walking. “If you’re here to whine about the ledger, get in line.”
The man stepped into her path — Crow, a mid‑level Serpent with a reputation for running his mouth and using his fists when he ran out of words. He was taller than her by a head, heavier by at least sixty pounds, and wearing a smirk that said he thought those things mattered.
They didn’t.
Crow crossed his arms. “You think you can walk in here and start throwing your weight around?”
Rae tilted her head. “I haven’t thrown anything yet.”
Crow’s smirk widened. “Tank says you’re getting too bold. Says someone needs to remind you where you stand.”
Rae set the ledger on her bike seat. “And you volunteered.”
Crow cracked his knuckles. “Someone’s gotta put you back in your place.”
Rae stepped closer, boots silent on the gravel. “Try.”
Crow lunged.
He moved fast — faster than she expected — but Rae had trained with men twice his size, men who didn’t stop when you begged, men who didn’t care if you walked away breathing. Crow was sloppy compared to them.
She sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and twisted.
Crow shouted as his arm bent backward, his momentum carrying him off balance. Rae drove her elbow into his ribs — once, twice — then swept his leg out from under him.
He hit the ground hard.
The sound echoed across the lot.
A few men near the clubhouse turned. Engines idled. Conversations stopped.
Rae didn’t look at them.
She crouched beside Crow, her voice low and calm. “If you ever put your hands on me again, I’ll break your arm.”
Crow snarled and swung at her.
Rae caught his fist mid‑air.
She squeezed.
Crow’s face twisted in pain.
“You’re not listening,” Rae said.
She twisted his wrist again — harder this time — and Crow screamed, the sound ripping through the quiet lot.
Boots pounded behind her. Jax’s voice cut through the tension.
“Rae.”
She didn’t let go.
Crow writhed under her grip, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Jax stepped closer. “That’s enough.”
Rae released Crow’s wrist and stood in one smooth motion. Crow curled on the ground, clutching his arm, cursing under his breath.
Rae didn’t look at him.
She looked at Jax.
He stared at her like he was seeing a ghost — or a weapon he didn’t know how to handle.
“What the hell was that?” he asked.
Rae wiped a smear of dust from her knuckles. “Self‑defense.”
“He barely touched you.”
“He tried.”
Jax’s jaw tightened. “You didn’t have to put him down like that.”
Rae stepped closer, voice low. “If I don’t put them down hard, they’ll keep trying.”
Jax didn’t argue.
He couldn’t.
Because he knew she was right.
Crow staggered to his feet, face red with humiliation. “You b***h—”
Rae turned her head slightly. “Finish that sentence.”
Crow froze.
Jax stepped between them. “Crow, walk away.”
Crow glared at Rae, but he obeyed — limping toward the clubhouse, muttering curses under his breath.
Rae picked up the ledger from her bike seat.
Jax watched her, eyes dark. “You trained.”
Rae met his gaze. “I survived.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
Jax exhaled slowly, tension rolling off him like heat. “You keep this up, and the club’s gonna split down the middle.”
Rae swung her leg over her bike. “Good.”
“Good?” Jax echoed.
Rae started the engine, the rumble vibrating through the gravel. “Because the ones who hate me are the ones who know something.”
She revved the engine once.
“And I’m going to find out what.”
She rode off, leaving Jax staring after her, the gravel settling in her wake.
Behind him, Crow watched her go with fear in his eyes.
The Serpents had wanted to test her.
They wouldn’t make that mistake again.
- Writer
