Page 1 of The Alpha

1

KELSIE

Coming back home felt like two different parts had come alive within me.

On one hand, it was like stepping into a past I wasn’t sure I wanted to relive. And on the other hand, it was like I was finally home after being lost for years.

The clubhouse for the Reaper’s Scythe MC loomed in front of me, the neon skull-and-scythe emblem casting an eerie glow in the darkness. I’d gotten off the bus twenty minutes before and decided to walk the rest of the way to the clubhouse.

It was dark and would be dangerous in any other city, but this was Reaper territory. Being the sister of the enforcer sure as hell meant I would be safe.

The rumble of bikes and the low thrum of deep classic rock thumped from the interior of the clubhouse, humming in my chest and sending a rush of nerves through me. I gripped the strap of my bag tighter and adjusted it on my shoulder, forcing myself to move forward.

I was admitted through the gates of the club’s property, because the men at the front recognized me. I realized I clearly hadn’t changed much in the years I’d been away.

Physically, I might look the same on the outside, but I wasn’t the same girl who had left this place. Not internally—mentally nor emotionally. I’d been running from a life I swore I wouldn’t lead, one that was ran by a motorcycle club that dealt with dangerous and illegal things. But here I was, back in the only place I’d ever really known.

I kept to the side and shadows as I walked toward the clubhouse. Men in denim and leather leaned against the brick walls of the building, smoking joints and cigarettes as they eyed me but left me alone.

Before I entered through the clubhouse’s front door, I stood and stared at the painted MC logo on the scarred wood. With one more long inhale, then a slow exhale, I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

For a second, no one noticed me as they drank, played pool, watched sports on a big screen TV, and got lap dances from the club girls. All too quickly though, the hair on my arms stood on end. I knew I was being watched. But not being watched in the way that a stranger glanced at me. No… this was personal.

And then I saw him.

Knox Richter.

He leaned against the bar like he owned the place—because, in a way, he did. He was one of the highest-ranking members of the club and held a hell of a lot of power.

He was also my brother’s closest friend and the last man I should be looking at, considering how things ended between us.

I had loved Knox with everything I was so long ago. He’d been the only man who made me feel that way. But loving him meant losing myself. I’d known the club would always come first. Before me. Before us.

My father had been a member, then my brother. I saw what it did to my mother and had seen the relationship between my parents grow more and more distant.

Even so, I’d gotten involved with Knox, because he made me feel things that made no sense. I tried to ignore the blood on his hands and the way danger followed him like a shadow.

But the breaking point for me had been when he came to me one night, eyes dark and knuckles raw and bloody. I knew immediately he had killed someone. It didn’t matter if it had been warranted. I’d been terrified of what that meant.

I knew I had to leave. Because if I stayed, I’d never leave at all.

Knox’s gaze was sharp, intense, tracking me as I walked through the haze of smoke, spilled whiskey, and the scent of stale booze and imminent sex. He looked the same—massive, broad, and made up of all hard muscle wrapped in leather and violence.

His dark-blond hair looked even darker now, with a sprinkling of gray at his temples. The strands were a little longer than I remembered too. He let his facial hair grow out, and now, his jaw was covered with a trimmed, dark beard.

His arms were bigger—huge even—and covered in tattoos. I was almost transfixed as I watched his inked arm flex when he lifted his beer bottle and tipped it back to take a long pull.

I swallowed hard, but I refused to look away. Before I knew what was happening, I stopped right in front of him. For long seconds, neither of us spoke. I stared up at him, his six-foot-four height towering over my five-seven frame.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.” Knox’s voice cut through the noise and the thick tension between and all around us.

Before I could respond, I heard a voice I’d been hearing weekly over the phone since I left. My brother Carter.

My older sibling pushed club members out of the way as he stepped out from the back, a case of beer in his arms and shock on his face.

“Holy fucking shit. Kelsie? You’re really here?” He set the crate of beer down and gestured for a prospect to unload it. Carter walked around the bar and stood a foot from me, eyeing me up and down like he seriously couldn’t believe I was here.

His brows furrowing, his lips twisted as happiness broke through his rough and vicious exterior. He took another step forward, towering over me like the overprotective bastard he’d always been. And then he pulled me into a big bear hug, his arms thick and strong and wrapped around me like he thought I’d vanish.

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