—Natasha's POV—
The Bikers Den was a rough place but it had a certain charm to it. The Bikers Den was all loud noises like the sound of engines roaring and bottles clinking.
You would also hear the guys talking and laughing together it was an comfortable sound. The Bikers Den smelled like motor oil and pine trees.
The Bikers Den was a place where people were realistic and down to earth it was, like a fortress of people who got things done.
This place feels like a prison, in the middle of a war. It is a cage but I am stuck in a war zone. The war zone is a bad place and I do not like being here it feels like a gilded cage.
Natasha’s world had contracted to the high, chain-link perimeter topped with iron spikes and humming with Enzo’s pack-wards. She was not a prisoner in the tradition
