The Biker Who Saved Me

4. Rules

Chapter 4: Rules

Sarah let Scout pull her back inside, but her mind kept racing far ahead of her feet.

A girl matching her description. Family debt. A witness.

The words dug up something old. Late night arguments behind closed doors when she was twelve. Her father’s slurred voice, half drunk, talking about “that night at the warehouse.” The way he’d go quiet and mean whenever she asked what he meant. She’d always told herself it was just the drinking talking. Now it felt like something with a pin already pulled.

The common room had filled up fast. Members moved around with purpose, cleaning up after the trouble at the gate, a few standing watch near the windows. Duke barked instructions from the bar, his voice cutting straight through the noise. Scout pressed a fresh coffee into Sarah’s hands.

“Sit. Breathe. Forge handles this kind of thing all the time.”

Sarah dropped into a worn chair by the window, eyes drifting toward the garage where her bike still waited. Freedom sat about ten steps away. But leaving now felt like riding straight into a second storm without even seeing it coming.

Heavy boots crossed the floor. Forge filled the doorway, knuckles freshly wrapped, a fresh cut over his eyebrow already starting to scab. His eyes found her the second he walked in. He crossed the room and stopped in front of her chair, so tall she had to tip her head back just to look at him.

“You heard Scout,” he said, voice low, just for her. “They’re asking about you. Want to explain that?”

Sarah’s grip tightened around the mug. “I have no idea what they’re talking about. My family’s a mess. June and Scott kicked me out over money and a baby. That’s the whole story. No warehouse secrets, no whatever they think I saw.”

He pulled a chair over and sat across from her, close enough that she caught the smell of blood and oil still on him. “Eclipse Legion doesn’t come sniffing around for nothing. Your sister’s been getting friendly with people who owe them favors. This goes deeper than some will.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “While you’re under this roof, you tell me everything. All of it.”

“I’m not staying here.” Even as she said it, her body leaned slightly toward the warmth coming off him. “I fix bikes. I ride. I don’t hide behind anyone’s patch.”

A muscle moved in his jaw. “Nobody said hide. You’re smart enough to know riding out alone right now makes you a target. Club rule. Nobody leaves vulnerable. Especially not a woman staying under our roof.”

“Rules again.” Sarah set the coffee down and stood, putting them almost eye to eye if she ignored the foot and a half he had on her anyway. “What’s the full price, Forge? Bed, food, protection. And what’s the catch?”

His eyes darkened, but it wasn’t anger. Something else, something heavier. He stood too, close now, not touching her.

“I don’t force women. Never have. But I won’t lie to you either.” His voice dropped lower. “Something about you sits different with me, Rowan. Like you belong in that garage. Under these hands. Working metal next to me.” A pause. “You feel it too. I can see it on your face when you look at me.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. She did feel it, the pull of him, the strange mix of danger and safety all wrapped together. After Scott, her body had no business reacting like this to anyone. But Forge wasn’t Scott. Forge felt like a storm with a shape, and some part of her wanted to walk straight into it anyway.

A young prospect interrupted before she could answer, maybe nineteen, eyes wide and eager.

“VP. Bikes need tuning before tomorrow’s run. The Softail the new girl worked on? Runs better than factory.”

Forge kept his eyes on Sarah. “Show her the others. Let her prove it.”

Sarah was grateful for the excuse to move.

She spent the next few hours buried in the garage, hands busy, mind quiet for the first time all day. She tuned three more bikes and found problems the prospects had missed. Worn belts. Timing off by just a hair. A small exhaust leak nobody had caught. Word got around fast. A few of the older members nodded at her like she’d earned something.

Scout brought her lunch and stuck around, talking about the club. How they ran real custom builds alongside other business they didn’t talk about openly. How they kept the town safer than it would be without them, especially with crews like Eclipse Legion circling.

“You’ve got fire, Sarah.” Scout wiped grease off her hands with a rag. “Most girls who end up here either cry the whole time or cling to whoever brought them in. You work instead. Forge notices things like that.”

By late afternoon her muscles ached in the good way, grease back under her nails where it felt right. She was wiping down a workbench when Forge appeared in the doorway again, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Break time,” he said. “Walk with me.”

Not a question.

They went outside into the cooling evening air. The compound had quieted down. He led her along the fence line, past rows of parked bikes.

“My sister,” he said suddenly, voice rougher than before. “She was tough like you. Worked on old cars, fixed them up herself. Got caught in something that wasn’t hers to be caught in. I wasn’t there in time.”

Sarah’s steps slowed. The pain in his voice was raw and completely unguarded.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. Just understand why I don’t do things casually. Why there are rules.” He stopped and turned to face her, the last of the sunlight catching the scars on his arms. “You stay in the room I gave you. No leaving the compound alone until we figure out this Eclipse problem. You work in the garage. You eat with the club. And if your family contacts you again, you tell me.”

Her temper flared. “And if I say no?”

He stepped closer and caught her bandaged hand gently, his thumb brushing the edge of the tape. The touch was light, but it sent a current straight up her arm.

“Then I’ll still keep you safe. It’ll just be harder on both of us.” His eyes dropped to her mouth for half a second. “I want you here, Sarah. Not only for protection. But I won’t take anything you’re not giving me on your own.”

Her heart pounded. The air between them felt charged, like something about to spark. She could smell leather on him, feel the heat coming off his body. One step forward and she’d be against him. Some angry, broken part of her wanted exactly that. Wanted to disappear into this man and forget the rest of it.

She pulled her hand back instead. Slow, deliberate.

“I need time,” she said. “My own clothes. And answers about whatever my father got me mixed up in as a kid.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded once, something like respect in his eyes. “Scout will take you into town tomorrow. Supervised. For now, dinner in the hall. Then rest.”

Walking back inside, she felt eyes on both of them. The whole club watching. Waiting to see what the VP’s new stray would do next.

That night, alone in her room, Sarah scrolled through more texts from June. More threats. A photo of her things sitting in trash bags on the curb. She deleted them, but the unease stuck around longer than the messages did.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Lights out soon,” Forge said through the wood. “You good?”

She opened it a crack. He stood there in a clean shirt, hair still damp from the shower, looking exactly like the kind of danger that came with its own warning label.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you.”

He studied her face for a moment, then reached out and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Something about the simple gesture nearly undid her completely.

“Sleep, Rowan.” His voice was quiet. “Tomorrow’s another day to put things back together.”

The door closed. Sarah leaned against it, pulse still racing.

Rebuild. That was what Forge did. Metal. Bonds. Maybe even women who’d been taken apart by people who should have loved them better.

She lay in bed listening to distant engines somewhere out past the fence line. Eclipse Legion wasn’t finished, not by a long way. And whatever her father had buried years ago was already starting to dig itself back up.

She wasn’t sure she could keep running from either of them anymore. Not the club’s enemies. Not the man two doors down who’d looked at her like she was something worth keeping.