EMMA
Clara had introduced me to several of the club members earlier, warning me not to worry about fitting in. “They’re protective, yes,” she’d said with a mischievous smile, “but they’re good people. They’ll welcome you if you let them.”
At first, I hesitated. Motorcycle clubs weren’t exactly my comfort zone. Leather, tattoos, loud engines… I’d spent my life avoiding environments like this, preferring neat offices and controlled chaos over raw energy and unpredictability. But there was something about this group, the way they moved, laughed, and even interacted, that was immediately disarming. They were fierce yet gentle with each other, confident without being arrogant. And they treated me as though I belonged, even if I didn’t quite feel it yet.
“Come on, Collins,” a deep voice calle
