First message
The Ohio sun’s beating down so hard you could fry an egg on my workbench, grease smudged all over my arms while I tighten a chain. Three-year-old Emma’s out back chasing butterflies—every last guy from the Devils vipers dotes on her like she’s their own, more uncles than she could ever count.
Then the engines roar up, loud and ugly. Rival lot, leather stitched with patches I don’t recognise. Their leader swaggers over like he owns the whole damn street.
“Nice little setup you got here,” he smirks. “Shame it won’t be yours much longer.”
I wipe my hands on my rag and lean against a Harley. “Cute act. Did your mommy let you play with the big bikes today, or did you sneak out?”
His jaw tightens, but before he can snap, Grayson Cade steps right between us, broad and solid, eyes burning like he’s ready to tear the world apart for me. I’ve felt that look a hundred times, wondered if he’d ever make a move—same as I’ve never dared say how much I want him to, not after all the times I got burned before. But seeing him stand there now? Feels like everything’s finally about to change.