CHAPTER ONE

SIX

My head is pounding like the god of thunder is slamming his fucking hammer into my skull himself. But I guess that’s my fault. The club celebrated Thanksgiving last night, and we got a little festive with the feast, though it is special when the club and all the families unite in celebration.

We’ve come a long way since I was just another biker brat working my way through the club. Now I have children of my own, another on the way, and I’m learning the ropes of being the president of this club.

It still astounds me that I sit in this chair, gavel in hand, the king of this place. I know I was born for this role, but I still find it a reality check sometimes. Honestly, I never thought I would get there, especially not at the damn young age of twenty-four.

I was supposed to sit back in my older brother’s footsteps. Learn from him. Watch him grow old in the president’s chair and eventually take over when the time inevitably comes.

This chair wasn’t supposed to be mine this early.

But after the last few years, I’m feeling more confident in the role and slowly settling into the position. Having my brother and ex-president, Zero, taking on the duty of the Wise One of the club—or for the lack of better wording, to lend a helping hand when shit gets sticky—is helpful. I’m fortunate I didn’t have to take over the reins because of Zero’s death—as is the typical ascension process for an incoming president. However, watching my brother being attacked so brutally that he can’t ride anymore because his hands were mangled will forever stay with me.

There’s a real threat to safety when you step into these boots.

And they are big ones to fill.

But that’s what we Walkers have done for generations and will probably continue to do.

For now, though, everything is running fucking great at the club. Revenue is up. Scout is working the Slavers in extra shifts at the drug distribution center, where it’s all meshing together. The Slavers were our opposition back in the day, but when Kevlar was in New Orleans, he met Jovie, who would later become his Old Lady. We didn’t realize it at the time, but her brother, Scout, was a high-ranking member of the Slavers Syndicate, which was run by her father. It was a big deal back then. Fights were had, lives were lost, but in the end, Scout took over the Slavers and patched into the club.

Bringing both of us together, working side by side.

And we’ve been an unstoppable powerhouse in Houston ever since.

For once, life is going right .

Glancing over to my Old Lady, Rebel, she’s helping our two-year-old daughter, Kinzley, eat while our five-year-old, Kenna, swirls around in the little dress Bub made for her. Rebel’s heavily-pregnant stomach has me flooding with joy at seeing my family growing again.

Finally, we’re having a boy.

Don’t get me wrong, I adore my two girls, but Zero keeps giving me shit about the fact I haven’t been able to produce a legacy until now.

Asshole.

I know he’s only fucking around, but I’ll admit, I was ecstatic when the results of the ultrasound were staring back at us— my boy’s dick is making the family proud.

Growing up, all I ever wanted was to be a part of this club, and for a while there, that option was held back from me.

I won’t make that decision for my kid.

If he wants a patch, he can have one.

If he doesn’t, I won’t force it on him.

Part of my childhood was chosen for me—a part I can’t get back.

But I suppose it made me into the man I am today.

Without my older sister, Prinie, taking me away from the club, I don’t think I would have the appreciation for Houston Defiance I do now.

I mean, back then, we never would have thought I would be the president this soon. I’ve had to grow up fast, learn quickly, but I have brothers at my back guiding and helping me through this transition. The last five years since the attack on Zero have been a steep learning curve, but we’ve gotten through.

As a club.

Together.

One big happy family.

Walking up to Rebel, I plant a kiss on her head. She glances up at me when Kenna slams into my legs. “Daddy, Daddy, watch me twirl.”

I smirk as Rebel waggles her brow at me, and I slump into the seat next to my five-year-old girl. “Go, little firefly. Show me your moves.”

Kenna spins so fast she almost topples over, her little body sliding, but I catch her as she bursts into a fit of giggles. “Whoa.”

“I got you, baby,” I tell her with a warm smile reserved only for my firstborn.

“I nearly felled over, Daddy.”

“I saw. You need to steady those feet of yours.”

She raises her brows. “What’s steady mean?”

“Plant your feet harder on the floor when you spin. It will keep you stuck there… like superglue.”

She nods and steps back from me, spinning again, keeping her feet firmer this time. She doesn’t fall, and she bursts into a fit of giggles. “I did it, Daddy. You’re the bestest. I’m gonna go show Auntie Prinie…” And just as quickly as I was the flavor of the day, she’s off finding my big sister so she can dote on her.

Rebel snickers, continuing to feed Kinzley, while I slump back in my chair.

“You spoil her.” Rebel smirks.

Shrugging my shoulders, I reply, “She’s my firstborn.”

Rebel wipes Kinzley’s mouth and laughs. “And you’re gonna have a newborn in a few weeks. You gonna treat him special too? Poor Kinz will get middle-child syndrome if you’re not careful.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not a thing.”

Rebel glances over to my sister, and she smirks. “So Prinie didn’t suffer from middle-child syndrome a little back in the day?”

Raising my brow, I ponder that. The grungy outfits, the attention-seeking, the always trying to cause trouble within the family. Yeah, she fits the bill. “Shit.”

Rebel chuckles like she used to when we were in college together. Her face lighting up, making me look at her in awe. We’ve been together for years now, and yet, she is still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

I’m one lucky motherfucker.

Shifting forward, I press my lips to Kinzley’s head, keeping my eyes on my Old Lady. “I love you just as much, Kinz.”

She replies, spitting a piece of egg in my face and slapping me on the chin, “Dada smell.” Then she giggles, signaling to Rebel for more scrambled eggs.

I smile, nodding, matter of fact. “Yeah, baby girl, I smell.”

Rebel sniffs a couple of times and tilts her head. “Like a brewery, in fact.”

Groaning, I let out a huff. “I need to go for a ride. Clean out the pipes. Might see if the guys wanna go for a cruise to dust off the cobwebs. You girls be all right here for a few hours?”

She shrugs with her signature playful smile. “Yeah, you know us girls, we’ll just hang around here. Maybe call in some male strippers, catfish some people online, and snort some lines. What do you think, Kinz?” Rebel chimes, and Kinz just signals that she wants more eggs.

Bringing my hand up to her cheek, I smirk at her. “Catfish if you want, but no strippers and no snorting in your condition.” My eyes slide down to her pregnant belly.

She frowns mockingly. “Damn, you take all the fun out of my day,” she teases playfully.

I give her a wink. “Not all the fun… wait till I get home and have ridden off this godawful hangover, then I’ll show you a good time.”

She snickers, pushing my chest. “Go on, get out of here before you start teaching Kinz things a two-year-old definitely should not know.”

“All right, baby, see you when we get back. Love you.”

She smiles wide. “Love you more.”

I place my hand on her stomach and lean down to place a kiss on her belly. “Keep safe in there, little man.”

Rebel smiles as I stand, and then I send a whistle through the main room. “I’m heading off for a cruise to dust out the hangover cobwebs. Anyone who wants to come with, I’m leaving now.”

A bunch of washed-out-looking brothers trying to eat their breakfast tacos nod and move to stand.

Looks like we’re going to have ourselves a bit of good old-fashion fun.

I turn back to Rebel and dip my head. “We’ll probably be out all day. You need me—”

“I’ll call. Go. Enjoy your ride.”

I grab my cell from the table and turn toward her, the noise in the clubhouse doing nothing for the pounding in my head. Last night’s whiskey still lingers, but when Rebel steps closer, everything else fades. Her eyes lock on mine, and for a moment, the world slows. I lean in, brushing my thumb over her jaw before capturing her lips in a kiss. Soft, familiar, but still electric—like the very first time. The kiss erases the ache of my hangover, grounding me in her warmth. Her lips part just enough for me to taste the faint sweetness of her morning coffee, and the scent of her perfume, subtle but intoxicating, fills my lungs. I stay there, letting the pressures of the club, my duty, the fucking world disappear, knowing I need to go but not quite ready to leave this moment behind.

Even after all these years, kissing her feels like coming home.

I fucking love this woman.

Pulling back, I smooth my hand over Kinzley’s hair, wink at Rebel with a promise of more for us later tonight, then turn, walking out of the clubhouse to my ride.

I need to feel the open road and the wind in my hair.

Time to get rid of this fucking hangover.

Throwing my leg over my bike, Texas, Neon, Chains, Wraith, Slick, and Phantom all join me. The roar of the engines echo through the parking lot. The sound hitting my soul—deep, rumbling, like the earth waking up. It starts as a low growl, then builds as more engines fire up around me. Harley after Harley, the chorus grows, each adding its raw, mechanical heartbeat to the mix. It’s not just noise—it’s power, freedom, and grit all rolled into one. The roar grows louder, filling the air, vibrating through my chest until it’s a symphony of metal and throttle. To some, it might sound chaotic, but to me, it’s pure beauty—perfectly tuned, every engine in sync, like they’re speaking the same language. It’s a sound that gets under your skin, makes your pulse quicken, reminds you why you ride. There’s nothing like it. And when we’re all together like this, you know nothing and no one can stop us.

As we ride out of the clubhouse gates in formation, a sense of calm immediately washes over me, the engine’s rumble soothing my soul.

This is what I need.

To be one with my bike.

And I plan on making this a day trip, so we’ll be gone for a while.

I open my throttle and take off for the highway.

It’s time to ride!

***

It’s getting close to dusk, and even though I enjoyed the unwind, and the fresh air has helped with the hangover, we have to return to the clubhouse. I need to see my girls. But I am running low on gas, as I’m sure the other guys are, too, so I signal for us to ride toward a Buc-ee’s. The procession of bikes pulls up to the pumps. I slide off my ride, finally stretching my tired legs and letting out a yawn.

Glancing over to Wraith, I dip my head. “How’s your head now?” I ask my VP.

He lifts his chin while pumping his gas. “Better. I swear Advil wasn’t even touching the sides this morning.”

“Same, brother. It’s amazing what some fresh air will do.” Picking up the nozzle, I swipe my card, eyes unfocused as I stare off into the distance at nothing in particular. The rhythmic clicking of the pump is the only sound that cuts through the quiet. But something pulls at the corner of my vision—a flash of blonde hair. My gaze shifts, landing on a woman by her car, talking to a guy. Except it doesn’t look like a casual conversation. Her posture is tense, arms crossed tight, while his gestures are wild, heated. Even from here, I feel the shift in energy, though I can’t make out their words.

I glance over my shoulder to Wraith, who’s leaning against his bike, watching the same scene unfold. “Hey, you seeing this?”

He frowns, tilting his head. “Yeah, doesn’t look too friendly.”

After stowing the nozzle in the pump, I turn my attention back to the couple. The guy is storming off now, his fists clenched, shoulders stiff. Relief washes over me, and I nod, ready to write it off. “Well, that was short-lived,” I mutter, feeling my muscles loosen.

But then a scream slices through the air, sharp and piercing. My blood runs cold, and I whip around in time to see the ass shove the woman against the hood of her car with a violent thud. The panic in her eyes is unmistakable, and my heart slams against my ribs. The distance between us feels like miles, but I don’t think. Instinct takes over. Without a word, the guys and I are already moving, rushing toward the scene, boots pounding against the pavement.

Her screams are frantic, desperate, while she fights to push him off. He’s yelling, too, his face twisted in fury, hands gripping her wrists, pinning her down. Every second feels like an eternity as we close the gap, but I can feel the adrenaline surging, fists clenching, ready to tear him off her.

Wraith and Neon dive in, moving like they’ve done this a hundred times before. In one swift motion, they grab the guy, yanking him off her with a force that sends him stumbling back. He’s no match for them. I reach for her the second she’s free, pulling her off the car and into my arms. She crashes against me, her whole body trembling, and her arms wrap around me like I’m the last solid thing in her world. Tears streak down her face, smearing her mascara, black trails running along her cheeks. She’s a mess—her hair disheveled, breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts—but it’s her eyes that get me. Fear . Pure and raw. It’s like she’s been trapped in this moment long before we ever showed up.

My voice softens, steady, even though my pulse is racing. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We won’t let him hurt you.”

She clings to me, her grip almost desperate, fingers digging into the back of my club cut. I feel her heart hammering against me, her shaky breath warm on my chest. She’s holding on like I’m her lifeline, and I let her, even as the pressure tightens a bit too much. Her fear is palpable, cutting through the adrenaline still pumping in my veins, and I can’t help but wonder how long she’s been dealing with this.

Behind me, Wraith and Neon have the guy pinned, but not for long. He shrugs out of their hold with a sharp huff, shaking them off like he’s more annoyed than anything. His face is twisted with frustration, but it’s clear he knows he’s outnumbered.

“Fuck this shit,” he spits, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re not worth the headfuck, Amber.” He turns on his heel and stomps away, not even sparing her a second glance. Just like that, he’s gone, leaving her standing there, shattered and holding onto strangers because he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Letting out a long, steady breath, I glance down at her, still clinging to me, her sobs quieting into shaky breaths. “It’s okay,” I murmur, hoping my voice can calm the storm inside her. But I can feel the weight of it—whatever he has done or put her through, it’s heavy.

I glance at this woman in my arms while she pants for breath. “Are you okay?”

Amber blinks rapidly and sniffles. “I… I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come and saved me. Bradley is crazy. I was terrified.”

So the asshole has a name?

“Bradley… he an ex?” I question.

Amber nods. “Yeah, we rented a house together, but we broke up, and he kicked me out. I had to leave my dog behind, and now I am out on the streets. The problem is he keeps finding me and then threatening me. Please, if you have it in your hearts to help me, I could really use somewhere to stay. I’m not past begging. I’m desperate. Bradley scares me to death, and honestly, I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

I edge Amber toward Neon and step to the side with Wraith for consultation. “What do you think, VP?”

Wraith’s gaze shifts, catching something out of the corner of his eye. He straightens, his brow furrowing as he glances over at Bradley, who’s perched casually on the hood of his car. At first glance, Bradley looks relaxed—too relaxed for the chaos that’s just unfolded. His arms are crossed loosely over his chest, and one boot is propped up on the bumper, but it’s the way his eyes glint that sets Wraith on edge. There’s something cold and calculating in his stare, like he’s watching a scene in a movie rather than a real person’s life unraveling in front of him.

Bradley isn’t just observing. The bastard is enjoying this. The corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting back a smirk, as if the drama unfolding before him is some kind of sick entertainment. He doesn’t flinch at the violence, doesn’t even look concerned. Instead, his gaze flicks between Wraith, the girl, and the rest of Defiance, like he’s sizing us all up, deciding whether or not he wants to get involved—or if he’d rather sit back and watch the show.

Wraith narrows his eyes, his instincts buzzing. “There’s something off about the way he’s lingering, too detached, too entertained. Like he’s waiting for something else to happen, and that glint in his eye... it’s as if he’s silently daring us to make a move, to see how far he can push this. I think the asshole’s waiting for us to leave so he can come back and finish the job. If Amber wants our help, we should offer it. If she’s got nowhere to go, she might be able to lend the club girls a hand. Maybe doing general shit around the club to pull her weight?”

Glancing over my shoulder at Amber, I see it. She’s pretty. She could be helpful as a club girl, and if it gets her out of the situation she is currently in with this asshole, then it’s got to be a better option, right?

“Agreed… let’s talk to her.”

We step back to Amber and Neon. The poor girl looks shaken, but her eyes fall on me instantly as I approach. “Amber… we want to lend you our protection. But to do that, we need you to come back to the clubhouse so we can keep an eye on you. We’ll give you a roof over your head, but you’ll need to work for us in return.”

She narrows her eyes on me. “What kind of work?”

“You’ll cook, clean… and do any odd jobs we need around the clubhouse.”

“So I will live at the clubhouse, working for you guys, and that’s all it takes for your protection?”

“That, and Neon will have to run a full background check.”

She glances over at Bradley and nods. “Yes, if it will keep me away from him , I’ll do it. I will do anything. Sign me up.”

Shifting my gaze to Wraith, I shrug and nod. I don’t know what Rebel is going to think about us taking on a new member in our perfectly functioning family, but we will have to wait and see. It’s against my better judgment to invite someone we know nothing about, but this is an extenuating circumstance. The woman clearly needs our help, so I extend the invite. “Jump in your car and follow us back to the clubhouse.”

Amber’s eyes glisten with happiness as she stares at me. “Thank you! You’ve honestly just saved my life.” She races forward, taking me into a tight-as-fuck embrace, my eyes widening with the force as I reluctantly push her back. The guys are grimacing as I slowly pull Amber away from my body.

“Don’t thank me yet. You have to meet the old ladies when we return,” I tease.

Her face plummets as she swallows heavily, the other guys laughing at my quip. “Why… are they mean?” she asks.

I smirk, shaking my head. “Not at all, just protective. C’mon, let’s head back.”

She sheepishly nods, turning for her car as I signal the guys to return to our rides.

Looks like things are about to change at Houston Defiance MC.