Saving Sami

Chapter 7 Revving Hearts And Flying Caps

The bleachers were packed. Screaming families, clapping teachers, the smell of plastic folding chairs baking in the sun.
Sami stood near the back of the field with the rest of the graduating class, her cap tilted sideways, red curls poking out in defiance of dress code. She should’ve felt proud. Nervous. Excited.
Instead? She kept glancing toward the parking lot.
Her stomach twisted.
And then — like thunder breaking through a quiet sky — the sound hit.
Engines. Multiple. Loud.
Heads turned. People whispered. And Sami just smiled.


The Devil’s Sons MC rolled in thick. Four bikes deep, chrome gleaming under the afternoon sun. No subtlety. No apologies.
Grimm led the pack, parking at the edge of the lot like they owned the damn field. And right behind him…
Ace.
Leather vest slung over his shoulders — the prospect patch clear and proud — but under it, his cap and gown hung loose over black jeans and boots. His tassel dangled from his helmet.
A kid from two rows over whispered, “Holy s**t, he actually showed up.”
Sami tried not to grin. 
He walked up the aisle of chairs like he wasn’t late, like he hadn’t just broken every rule in the student handbook, like he was exactly where he was meant to be.
He stopped right in front of her. Didn’t care who watched. Didn’t flinch at the principal’s glare.
“Told you I’d be here,” he said.
“I told you to wear real shoes,” she replied, eyes dancing.
“You like me better this way.”


He handed her something small — a single red patch, the size of her palm. It read: “PROPERTY OF NONE. RIDING MY OWN WAY.”
“For you,” he said. “You’re not anyone’s girl, Sami. You ride next to me. Not behind.”
Her heart did something dangerous.
She took the patch. And tucked it in the front of her gown.
“I’m not crying at graduation,” she muttered.
“Yeah, but you’re thinking about kissing me.”
“Always am.” They took their seats. Principal droned on. Names were called. Caps flew.


But the real moment came after.
When the crowd erupted into hugs and camera flashes, and Ace pulled her away from it all — out by the bikes, where Grimm was standing.
“You done with school?” Grimm asked.
“Done pretending,” Ace replied.
He turned to Sami, holding her gaze in front of everyone — the MC, her friends, her mother (who looked mortified, btw), and the whole school.
“You staying?”
“Only if you mean it.”
“I meant it the first time I kissed you.”
And in front of the crowd, the MC, and the ghosts of the people they used to be — He kissed her.
No hesitation.
No interruptions.
Just leather, gasoline, tears, and a future that wasn’t perfect — but was theirs.


Chapter 7 (continued) – Into the Fire
Hours later.
The ride to the clubhouse wasn’t long — but it was loud.
Ace didn’t ask if she wanted to ride with him — she just climbed on behind him, slid her arms around his waist, and held on like she was meant to be there.
The engines rumbled as they pulled in — a low thunder that shook the ground. The Devil’s Sons were already gathering outside. Beers in hand. Music thumping through the old warehouse walls. Someone lit a bonfire out back.
It wasn’t a party for graduation. It was a welcome. For Ace. For her.
But the second Sami stepped off the bike, eyes turned. Some curious. Some cold.
She straightened her spine. She wasn’t here to be accepted — she was here because she chose him.
Grimm came up first, tugging off his cut and tossing it over a chair.
“You brought her,” he said to Ace, voice low but amused.
“She brought herself,” Ace replied.
Grimm glanced at Sami, unreadable. Then he nodded once — respect.
“Good. She’s got fire.” Sami tilted her chin. “You have no idea.”
Grimm grinned. “I like her.”


From the shadows of the porch, Reaper appeared — tall, quiet, eyes sharp as ever.
Sami’s breath caught.
The last time she saw him, Ace was barely alive.
Reaper walked over with the quiet authority of a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be feared.
“Sami,” he said simply.
She nodded. “Reaper.”
“Glad you’re back.” A pause. “He’s different with you around.”
Sami blinked.
“In a good way.”
Then — without warning — Tank stepped out of the clubhouse.
His eyes landed on Sami. His mouth twisted.
“Didn’t think we’d be seeing her again.”
Ace was already moving. Tension rolling off his body.
“Back off, Tank.”
Tank raised his hands. “Just sayin’. Not all girls are cut out for club life. Some get scared off real easy.”
Sami stepped forward before Ace could.
“That the part where I’m supposed to cry and run away?” Tank laughed, low and smug. “You will. They always do.”
Ace’s jaw clenched. “You say one more word—”
“Nah,” Sami cut in. “Let me.”
She walked right up to Tank — eyes locked, voice steady. “You don’t scare me. You didn’t the night at the hospital , and you sure as hell don’t now. You want to know what I’m ‘cut out for’? Ask the guy I sat next to in the hospital while everyone else was partying at this dump.”
The air crackled.
Tank opened his mouth — but Reaper’s voice cut across the tension like a blade. “Enough.”


Everyone froze.
Reaper stepped between them — calm, cold.
“If she’s with Ace, she’s under this roof with respect. You got a problem with that, you come to me.”
Tank backed down.
Sami stood her ground.
Ace looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.
Grimm cracked a beer open and handed it to her.
“Welcome to the fire, Red.”

The party pulsed on outside — laughter, engines, the clink of bottles. But Ace took Sami’s hand and didn’t say a word.
He led her through the back hallway of the clubhouse — past the stained walls, the old photos of patched members, the muffled sounds of someone playing pool and someone probably getting laid.
Down the hall, last door on the left — his room.
He opened it and let her in first. It wasn’t what she expected.
Small. Clean. A little messy in the corners. A rumpled bed. A shelf with oil-streaked tools. And above it all, nailed to the wall:
A photo of him and Grimm as kids. Another of his bike. And a crumpled piece of notebook paper — a sketch of a tattoo design.
It looked like a spine made of gears and flames.
“That’s yours?” she asked.
“Was gonna get it after graduation,” he said. “Still might.” She sat on the bed. Quiet for a beat.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
“No,” he said honestly. “But I’m better when you’re here.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Being a prospect means I answer to everyone. I clean blood off floors. I run errands. I shut up and show up. And if I patch in… I belong to the club.”
A pause. His voice dropped.
“But I’ll always belong to you first. If you’ll still have me.”


Sami stared at him — at this version of him. Raw. Honest. Ace without the armor.
She stood up and walked over. Slowly. Her hands slid under his cut, resting on his waist. “I’m not scared of your world,” she said.
“You should be.”
“Maybe. But I’ve already seen the worst of it. And I didn’t run.”
Her fingers tugged his cut off his shoulders. Gently. Carefully. She hung it on the back of his chair like she’d done it a hundred times.
Then she stepped close. Face inches from his.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ace. Not now. Not ever.”
He kissed her again — this time slow. Like a thank you. Like a promise.
And when they fell back onto the bed — tangled in each other, away from the noise and the judgment — it wasn’t about s*x. It was about safety.
About belonging.
About choosing each other over and over again.


They’ve made their choice — not just in front of the world, but behind closed doors.
She’s in. He’s all hers.
And now?
The rest of the world better get used to it.