The entire town transformed by sunrise. Motorcycles filled every road while vendor tents lined the streets and thousands of bikers poured into town from every direction until it felt like asphalt and leather had taken over the world.
The annual rally always brought chaos. This year brought a potential war which felt significantly less fun.
I stood outside the clubhouse watching lines of motorcycles roll toward town while members of Devil’s Hollow prepared for what looked less like a rally and more like a military deployment.
Weapons got checked, routes got confirmed and backup plans got discussed.
Even Saint looked more alert than usual. Which honestly felt impossible.
Knox stepped out of the clubhouse wearing his cut while morning sunlight caught the dark ink covering his arms a
