The Iron Wolves
849 Words
Broken Roads, Second Chances
Chapter Three — The Iron Wolves
Lena woke up the next morning with one simple goal.
Get through the day without seeing Ryder Cole.
It should have been easy.
Black Hollow wasn’t a huge town, but it wasn’t so small that she had to run into him everywhere she went.
At least, that was what she told herself.
She made coffee.
She unpacked boxes.
She helped her grandmother organize old paperwork for the repair shop.
She kept herself busy.
Because busy meant she didn’t have time to think.
And thinking meant remembering.
The problem was, memories didn’t care if you were busy.
They showed up anyway.
A song on the radio.
A familiar smell.
A motorcycle passing by on the road.
Everything reminded her of him.
She hated that.
She hated that seven years later, Ryder still had the power to ruin her entire day without even being there.
“You’re quiet,” her grandmother said from across the kitchen table.
Lena looked up.
“I’m tired.”
Her grandmother gave her a knowing look.
“You’ve always been a terrible liar.”
Lena smiled slightly.
“Apparently everyone in this town knows me too well.”
“Some people never stopped loving you.”
The words were gentle.
But they hit harder than her grandmother probably intended.
Lena looked down at her coffee.
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
Her grandmother sighed.
“Sometimes the things we don’t want to talk about are the things we need to face.”
Lena shook her head.
“I faced it.”
“No.”
Her grandmother reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
“You survived it.”
That was different.
And Lena knew it.
She had survived losing Ryder.
But she wasn’t sure she had ever truly healed.
⸻
By noon, Lena was outside the repair shop, carrying boxes from the storage building when she heard voices.
Men’s voices.
Laughing.
She froze.
Not because she recognized them.
Because she recognized the sound.
The sound of brotherhood.
She looked toward the road.
Three motorcycles pulled into the parking lot.
Then another.
Then another.
The men who climbed off them wore black leather vests with the same patch stitched across the back.
IRON WOLVES.
Lena had seen that patch hundreds of times.
But back then, it meant one thing.
Ryder.
She watched as they walked toward the garage.
They weren’t what she expected.
That surprised her.
She expected cold.
Danger.
Men who looked like trouble.
Instead, she saw one man carrying a bag of food for her grandmother.
Another fixing a loose sign hanging above the garage.
Another laughing with one of the mechanics.
They looked like a family.
Not a gang.
A family.
And she hated that it confused her.
“Lena.”
She turned.
The man standing behind her was tall, broad-shouldered, and had a friendly smile.
She recognized him immediately.
“Jax.”
His smile widened.
“You remember me.”
“You were impossible to forget.”
He laughed.
“That’s probably not a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
For the first time since coming home, Lena almost felt normal.
Almost.
Jax looked toward the garage.
“Your grandmother said you were helping out.”
“For a while.”
“That’s good.”
She nodded.
Then she noticed.
He was looking at her differently.
Like he knew something.
“What?”
Jax raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“You’re staring.”
He smiled.
“Just wondering how someone can disappear for seven years and come back looking exactly the same.”
Lena crossed her arms.
“I don’t.”
“No?”
“No.”
Jax studied her.
“You still get that angry look when you’re trying not to admit you’re hurt.”
Her expression hardened.
“I’m not hurt.”
“Right.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You and Ryder do that same thing.”
“What thing?”
“Pretend you know everything.”
Jax chuckled.
“Fair enough.”
Before she could answer, another voice interrupted.
“Jax.”
Ryder.
Of course.
Lena felt him before she saw him.
She hated that too.
Ryder walked out of the garage, wiping grease from his hands with a rag.
His eyes immediately found hers.
And for a moment, neither of them spoke.
The world felt too quiet.
Then Ryder looked away.
A small gesture.
But Lena noticed.
He wasn’t trying to push her.
He wasn’t trying to force a conversation.
He was giving her space.
Somehow, that bothered her more.
Because anger was easier when he acted like the old Ryder.
The one who thought he could fix everything.
The one who thought saying sorry could erase pain.
This Ryder seemed different.
And she didn’t know what to do with that.
⸻
Later that afternoon, Lena found herself sitting outside the garage while her grandmother talked with the club members.
She watched them interact.
Ryder was different around them.
Not softer exactly.
But lighter.
He smiled more.
He laughed.
He listened.
She had
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