Chapter 2 - Home Feels Like a Battlefield
1024 Words
The roar of the second bike faded as Knox killed the engine. Gravel crunched under his boots. I stayed on my seat, hands still on the grips, staring at the dark river. The water rushed by, carrying away bits of leaves and branches like it could carry away old pain. It never did.
Knox stopped a few feet away. The moonlight caught the scar along his jaw and the faded patches on his cut. He smelled like leather, engine oil, and the cigarette he’d probably smoked on the way.
“You followed me,” I said flatly.
“Couldn’t let you ride alone after Jax stirred everything up.” His voice was low, rough. “Old habits die hard.”
I swung my leg over the bike and stood, putting the motorcycle between us. “Those old habits are exactly why I left.”
He didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned against his bike, arms crossed, studying me. “Five years, Riley. Not one call. Not one message. Your dad sat on the porch every night for months waiting to hear that engine.”
The words hit like a wrench to the ribs. I looked away. “Don’t. You don’t get to guilt me. Not after you chose Lila’s tears over me every single time.”
Knox’s jaw worked. He looked down at his boots. “Jezebel made it sound reasonable. Every damn time. ‘Lila’s still adjusting,’ she’d say with that soft voice. ‘Riley’s always been the strong one.’ I bought it. We all did. I’m not asking you to forgive me tonight. I’m asking you to come home for a few days. Your dad collapsed two weeks ago. He’s been asking for you every night when Jezebel isn’t in the room.”
My stomach dropped. The river seemed louder. I gripped the edge of my seat until my knuckles hurt. “Collapsed?”
“Yeah.” Knox’s voice softened. “Doctors said stress. Heart. He won’t slow down, and Jezebel keeps pushing club business on him like she’s already running things.”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to ride back to my quiet house and my Ghost Runs and forget all of them. But Dad…
“One week,” I said, the words tasting like rust. “I’ll stay one week. For him. Not for you. Not for Jax or Ryder. And if Jezebel or Lila starts their games, I’m gone.”
Knox exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “One week. I’ll take it.”
The ride back to my house was silent except for the engines. When we arrived, he waited while I packed a small bag — clothes, tools, and the small pistol I kept for Ghost Runs. He didn’t comment. Smart man.
Morning came too fast. Knox arrived with two black coffees. We rode out together, the highway stretching long and empty. The wind whipped at my jacket. For a while it felt like old times. Then the clubhouse gates appeared.
The place looked the same. Rows of chrome bikes gleaming under the sun. The smell of cigarette smoke, motor oil, and barbecue drifted on the breeze. Classic rock played from inside. Laughter and the clack of pool balls spilled out the open doors. Brothers worked on bikes in the yard, wrenches flashing, music thumping.
Jezebel waited on the porch like she owned the steps. Her dark hair was perfect. Her smile was warm. Too warm.
“Riley, sweetheart,” she called, coming down with open arms. “Look at you. So independent now. Your old room is exactly how you left it. I made sure no one touched it.”
I sidestepped her hug. “That’s kind of you.”
Lila stood behind her, smiling the same sweet way. “We saved all your things.”
I doubted that.
Dad stepped out next. He looked thinner. His eyes lit when he saw me. “Riley girl.” His hug was weaker than I remembered, but it still felt like home.
Jax and Ryder came from the garage. Jax’s gaze burned into me — intense, possessive. Ryder moved quieter, but his eyes held everything he didn’t say. He carried a wrench like he’d been working, grease on his hands.
“Church in thirty,” Jax said, voice low. “Reapers hit another run. You should sit in, Riley.”
Jezebel laughed lightly. “Let the poor girl breathe. She’s been gone so long, playing her little night deliveries. How charming.”
I kept my face blank. “I’ll sit in.”
Inside, the smell of old whiskey, leather, and cigarette smoke hit me hard. The walls were covered in club photos and patches. Brothers nodded at me. Some smiled. Some whispered. “The princess is back.”
We gathered in the meeting room. The long table, the chairs, the gavel. It felt the same. Jax sat at the head. Knox took the seat to his right. Ryder sat across, watching me.
I stayed standing near the door.
They talked business. Shipments. Reapers. Territory. I listened, arms crossed. Every time Jezebel’s name came up in passing, someone glanced at me.
After the meeting, Ryder found me outside. He leaned against the wall, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. “You look good out here,” he said quietly. “Like you belong on the road.”
“I do belong on the road,” I replied. “My road.”
He nodded slowly. “I never stopped carrying your helmet in my saddlebag. Stupid, I know.”
Before I could answer, the gate creaked. Every head in the yard turned.
A tall man stood just inside the entrance, dressed in black leather that carried a patch I hadn’t seen in five years. Shadow Reapers. His dark eyes settled on me like he’d been looking for me all along. The yard went dead quiet. Even the music from inside seemed to fade.
“So…” He smiled once, slow and controlled. “That’s Riley Kane.”
The air thickened. My pulse hammered against my ribs.
Before anyone could speak, Jax stepped in front of me.
- Writer
