Page 14 of Mason

"I will," His response is a growl, laced with a fierceness that reassures and terrifies me all at once.

He strides back toward the commotion, leaving me in the quiet of the hallway. My fingertips linger on the spot where his kiss burned into my skin.

The rumble of engines vibrates through the walls, a thunderous prelude to the storm that's about to break. I peeraround the corner, watching as the Iron Reapers mount their bikes, their faces etched with lines of determination.

"Move out!" Mason's command slices through the night.

Engines roar to life, a symphony of defiance, as the members pull away from the clubhouse. Each headlight fades into the darkness, carrying a brother ready to defend, ready to bleed.

In the empty silence left behind, my heart races with a mix of fear and pride. These men are going to war.

EIGHT

CARLIE

"Come here, love,"a woman with hair like a raven's wing waves me over. She's sitting on a leather couch that's seen decades of stories.

"Call me Mae." She pats the seat next to her, her smile wide, lines around her eyes telling of laughter and hard-won wisdom. "Welcome to our world."

"Thanks," I manage, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. The room hums with warmth, children darting between legs, women laughing, sharing knowing looks.

"Being an old lady isn't just about wearing someone's patch," Mae explains, her hand gesturing to the others. "It's about being the spine of this family."

"Family," I echo, the word settling into my chest. I watch them—strong, unwavering. They've built something here amidst the roar of engines and the scent of oil and leather.

"Yep, family," she confirms, pulling me into the fold with a story about a run-in with the law that ends with everyone intact, everyone together. Family, indeed.

"Stick with us, honey," another pipes up, her eyes twinkling. "We'll show you just how fierce these old ladies can be."

As I laugh along, I feel it—the pull of belonging, the strength in their unity. These women, they're the backbone, and maybe, just maybe, I'm starting to fit in.

Mae leans in, her gaze sharp as a blade. "So, honey, what's the deal with you and Pres?"

Heat floods my cheeks, and I look down at my hands, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "I... um, it's complicated. I'm not sure where we stand."

"Girl, that man doesn't let just anyone stay here," another old lady, with laughter lines etched deep into her face, chimes in. "You're special to him."

A hush falls over the group, their eyes fixed on me, full of unspoken understanding. It's clear they see something I haven't yet grasped.

"Special," I mumble. The idea that Mason—Pres, they call him—could see me as anything more than a temporary fixture in his tumultuous life seems far-fetched.

But then, I catch myself staring out the window at the compound, the bikes lined up like steel stallions, the few men left behind to protect what’s theirs moving about with purpose. Their world is one of growling engines and fierce loyalty, and somewhere in that chaos is Mason, a man who commands respect with just a look.

Could I fit into this? Be his old lady? My heart races at the thought—me, Carlie Meadows, part of this tight-knit biker community.

"Hey, earth to Carlie." Mae's voice pulls me back, her hand warm on my arm. "You got that look in your eye. You're wondering, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm wondering a lot."

The women exchange knowing glances, their smiles gentle yet edged with a resilience forged in fire.

"Take it from us," Mae says solemnly. "Being with a man like Pres, it's no easy ride. But damn, if it isn't a ride worth taking."

"Is it?" I ask, my curiosity a living thing between us.

"Absolutely," they say together, their conviction ringing clear as a bell.

I watch them, each an embodiment of strength and devotion, and a seed of possibility takes root inside me. Maybe, just maybe, I'm ready to embrace this new world.

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