MARKED BY THE WOLF: THE BIKER'S FAKE APPRENTICE

JAX’S POV The deafening roar of a custom V-twin engine ripped through the quiet morning air, rattling the metal tools hanging on my garage wall. I grunted, pressing my face deeper into the greasy pillow on the cot in the back office. "What the f**k is wrong with y'all?" I groaned, throwing a heavy arm over my eyes to block out the blinding sunlight streaming through the dirty windows. A low chuckle echoed from right outside the door. "You're awake, captain," a voice called out. I cracked my eyes open slowly, my head pounding from a long night of wrenching. Drew was leaning against the doorframe, shutting off the throttle of his Harley parked right in the middle of my shop floor. I dragged myself up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "Unfortunately." One by one, the rest of the crew piled into the garage, filling the space with the smell of leather, sweat, and cheap tobacco. "Morning, captain," Kane grunted, tossing a greasy wrench onto the workbench. "Rise and shine, boss," Cole chimed in, leaning against a stack of tires. Mason, Toby, Leo, and Zed trickled in right behind them, grabbing a spot and nodding their hellos. Kane grinned, wiping his hands on a shop rag. "That win yesterday was crisp, captain. You really made a badass out of Marcus." I grunted again, still trying to keep my eyes open as I stumbled toward the coffee maker. "Why are you all here so early?" Cole snorted, shaking his head. "It's noon already, captain. You're the one waking up late." I mumbled a harsh "f**k" under my breath as the coffee machine sputtered to life. Leo grinned, leaning over the counter. "Marcus is probably somewhere crying right now. He couldn't believe his ass was whooped by a girl." I smirked, pouring the bitter black liquid into my favorite chipped mug. "Good for him. He should be happy I didn't crush his brainless head." We were all laughing and talking, the heavy morning haze finally starting to clear out of my head, when I remembered the paperwork sitting on my desk. I turned around, leaning against the counter. "Say, is the boy the union said they will send over here already?" Drew laughed, shaking his head. "Nah. Not yet." Kane grinned, pointing a finger at me. "Can't wait to meet your new apprentice, huh captain?" I rolled my eyes, taking a bitter sip of coffee. "Bullshit. I can't believe I am expected to babysit." The rest of the guys burst out laughing. "It shouldn't be that bad," Mason chuckled. Toby smirked. "I bet he's going to quit in one week." "One week?" Cole scoffed. "He will probably not come back here tomorrow." Before anyone else could make a joke, the heavy steel garage door flew open with a loud, violent bang. Marcus and his three main enforcers from the rival club piled into the shop, looking pissed off and ready for a war. I slammed my mug down on the counter, grabbing the nearest heavy wrench. "Was the win yesterday not enough? You want to get beaten now?" Marcus stepped forward, sneering. "Jax, right? That's what you're called? A boy's name? Were your parents planning for a boy and had you instead? Oh, what a loss." I was already used to being mistaken for a boy because of my name it's gotten boring now honestly. I didn't even flinch. I just stared him down, my grip tightening on the cold steel. "At least I was born and named. Your father probably wished he had c*m in your mother's face instead, you brainless fucker." Marcus’s face turned bright red. "You did not just mention my mother…" Drew cut him off, stepping right into his personal space with a chilling grin. "And yes she did. What will you do about it?" That was all it took. One of Marcus's men lunged forward and threw a punch straight at Drew’s jaw. In a split second, the whole garage erupted into absolute chaos. Punches flew, tools crashed to the concrete floor, and bodies slammed against the parked bikes. Marcus charged straight at me. I ducked his wild swing, whipped back around, and brought the heavy steel wrench down hard across his hand with a sickening crunch. Marcus shrieked, clutching his broken fingers and stumbling backward into a rack of spare tires. Just as I raised the wrench to land another hit, the small side door of the garage slowly creaked open. The violent shouting instantly died down. Every single guy in the room froze, turning their heads toward the entrance. A pale-looking boy walked in. His head was kept low, staring nervously at the concrete floor, his shoulders hunched as if he wanted to disappear. Standing there in the middle of the sweat, blood, and shattered tools, I looked at him and thought in my head: Tell me that's not the boy I am supposed to train. He looks like he could be blown away by a gust of wind. The boy took one timid step forward, his voice barely a quiet murmur. "Sorry..." he whispered, his eyes still glued to the floor. "I am here for Captain Jax."