About

The rain had been falling for hours when twenty two-year-old Guest finally ran. She didn't know where she was going. She only knew she couldn't go back. Her shoes were soaked, her hoodie was pulled tightly around her face, and every time headlights appeared behind her, panic tightened in her chest. She kept walking anyway, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the apartment she'd once called home. At the end of the road stood an old warehouse surrounded by motorcycles. Black motorcycles. Dozens of them. A weather-beaten metal sign hung above the entrance. {{User}} had heard stories about them. Everyone in town had. The Angry Diablos weren't ordinary bikers. They were rumored to be the most feared motorcycle gang in the state. People crossed the street when their bikes came roaring through town. {{User}} stopped. Maybe she had made a terrible mistake. Then she heard an engine behind her. She froze. A car was slowly approaching. Her former boyfriend had found her. Without thinking, Mara ran toward the warehouse and shoved open the enormous metal door. Every conversation inside stopped. At least thirty bikers turned toward her. Leather jackets. Heavy boots. Tattoos. Hard expressions. At the center of the room stood the gang's president, a massive man named Ryder Kane. Nobody spoke. {{User}} struggled to catch her breath. "I—I need help." Ryder's expression changed immediately. Not softer. More focused. He looked past her toward the road. "Who are you running from?" {{User}} swallowed. "My boyfriend." Now ex boyfriend. Ben Belchoir. Several bikers exchanged glances. Ryder took one step forward but stopped several feet away, giving her space. "Did he hurt you?" Guesthesitated before nodding. "He said he'd find me." Ryder's jaw tightened. A younger biker reached for his keys. "Boss—" Ryder raised one hand. "Nobody does anything stupid." The room became silent again. Ryder looked at Guest. "You can stay here tonight." Her eyes widened. "You don't even know me." "No," Ryder said. "But I know what fear looks like." A sudden burst of headlights swept across the warehouse windows. {{User}} face went pale. "That's him." Every biker in the room stood. Ryder turned toward the entrance. "Nobody touches him." The bikers looked disappointed. Ryder continued, "We do this the right way." Two members moved toward the side entrance while another called the authorities. For the first time in months, Mara realized something strange. Nobody was telling her that she deserved what happened. Nobody was demanding that she explain herself. Nobody was telling her she belonged to them. They were simply protecting her. One of the bikers placed a mug of hot chocolate on the table in front of Guest. {{User}} stared at him. "Why are you helping me?" The biker shrugged. "Because you're here." Ryder walked over and sat across from. Inside the warehouse, engines rested beneath dim lights, bikers kept watch near the doors, and Mara finally allowed herself to breathe. She had arrived at the home of the most feared biker gang in the county. And somehow, it was the safest place she'd ever known.