4-Crow
1054 Words
Arms remaining crossed at his chest, Snake sneered, "You know, you really shouldn't have picked sides, sweetheart."
My heart pounded in my chest as he stepped closer, his breath hot on my face. "You're playing with fire, and I've got a whole box of matches."
Without thinking, I slapped the bag of supplies into his chest, the sound echoing through the alley. "Back off," I warned, my voice surprisingly calm.
Snake chuckled, his eyes raking over me. "You gut balls kid. Just like your daddy." Then, with a wink, he turned and disappeared around the corner.
In the following days, Crow spent more time behind the counter and in the lulls, our conversations stretched beyond the mundane tasks of the bar.
"Crow," I started tentatively one afternoon as we restocked the shelves. "Can you tell me about my dad? What happened between you, him and Snake?"
He paused, his eyes on the bottles of whiskey as he rearranged them. "Some stories are better left untold, Oceano."
I couldn't let it go. "Well, whether I like it or not, I’m part of it and I need to know what I've gotten into."
Crow sighed, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Your father was like a brother to me. We had each other's backs through everything. But then a choice was made...a choice that cost us all."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. I felt the weight of his unspoken words, the sadness and anger entwined in his silence. "What choice?" I pressed, desperation in my voice.
Crow's jaw tightened. "Leave it alone Ocean," he said finally, his voice low.
"I can't," I insisted. "I need to understand."
He took a deep breath, then began to speak, his words measured and careful. "Phoenix and I had a falling out. Something big happened—a betrayal. And it split the Riders apart. Your dad got caught in the crossfire."
The bar was eerily quiet as he spoke, his words hanging in the air like a bad omen. I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. "What happened?"
He took a step closer, his gaze intense. "A job went sideways. A member of the gang was killed, and your father was blamed. The Serpents and the Renegades have been at each other's throats ever since."
"But why?" I whispered, my voice shaking.
Crow sighed, his eyes faraway. "Money, power, loyalty—pick your poison."
The revelation hit me hard. My dad had been involved in something that had torn apart a brotherhood. And now I was caught in the middle of it.
As the days rolled into weeks, my involvement with the Renegades grew deeper. I started to feel a sense of belonging, of family, that I hadn't felt since Mom had passed away.
"You're doing alright, kid," Crow said one afternoon as we sat on the back porch of the bar, the warmth of the setting sun on our faces. "But if you're going to stick around, there are a few things you need to learn."
"Like what?" I asked, intrigued.
He handed me a thick, worn-out manual titled "The Biker's Code." "This," he said, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "Start with this. It's the bible around here."
I took the book, feeling its weight in my hands. The pages smelled faintly of leather and engine oil. "Thanks, Crow," I murmured, flipping through the pages.
Mel looked at me with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "You sure you want to go down this road, Oce?" she asked.
"I have to," I said firmly. "For Leo."
Mel nodded, understanding in her gaze. "Just remember who you are, and what you're fighting for."
And so, my education in the biker lifestyle began. Crow taught me about bikes, about loyalty, and about the unspoken laws that governed the gang. He showed me the ropes of the motorcycle world—how to ride, how to fix a bike, how to spot an enemy from a mile away.
One evening, as we were tinkering with a bike in the back lot, Crow looked at me, his expression serious. "You know, you're a lot like him, Oceano."
"Who?" I asked, wiping grease off my forehead.
"Your dad," he said, his voice gruff. "You've got that same fire in your eyes."
I felt a strange mix of pride and dread. "What happened between you two?"
He was silent for a long moment, his eyes on the horizon. "Like I said, some stories need to remain untold," he finally said. "For now, let's just say we had a disagreement."
I nodded, sensing his reluctance to speak about the past. Instead, we focused on the present—on the rumbling engine between us, and the future we were both trying to build.
As I grew more comfortable around the Renegades, I couldn't help but notice the way Crow's eyes followed me. It was a look that was more than just friendship, a look that spoke of something deeper, something that had been growing between us, and a something that made me both nervous and excited.
Time continued marching, and we continued the unspoken dance. But one night, after the bar had closed and the last customer had stumbled home, he leaned against the counter, his gaze intense. "Oceano, I need to talk to you."
My heart pounded in my chest. "What about?"
He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face. "About us."
The words hung in the air, thick with meaning. I searched his eyes, looking for answers, but all I found was a tumultuous sea of emotions.
"What do you mean, 'about us'?" I whispered.
He took a deep breath, his hand dropping to his side. "I'm your best friend's father. I'm the president of a motorcycle gang. I’m f*****g twenty years older than you are. And I'm having a goddamn hard time keeping my hands off you."
The way he was looking at me, the way he making me feel—like I was the only woman in the world—was intoxicating.
"So, what are you going to do about it?" I breathed.
Crow's eyes searched mine, a storm of emotions crossing his face. "Nothing. I’m not going to do a damn thing about it."
- Writer
