PHOENIX:
The clubhouse had never looked like this before.
String lights lined the rafters. Chrome and crimson streamers twisted between bike parts hanging from the ceiling. Long tables were covered with black cloth and trays of food, and the back bar was stocked for an army. Outside, the courtyard was filled with patched jackets, familiar laughter, and the low growl of bikes that never quite left the air around here.
But this wasn’t a typical party.
This was ours.
The pre-party before the grand opening of The Phoenix. My dad and Uncle Blaze insisted on throwing it. "Before you two go all big-time on us," Uncle Blaze had said with a wink. "We gotta toast the beginning proper."
Everyone who mattered was here. MC family. Friends. Local shop owners. Even some of the town officials who’d
