Page 1 of Fury
Prologue
Livie
As far back as I can remember, I've felt his eyes searching for me whenever he's nearby. We don't talk, we just admire each other from a distance. He's destined to be the future president of the Devil Souls MC, while I'm the daughter of the vice president of the Grim Sinners MC. Our clubs are allies, so I often see him at events. His name is Greyson. He's strikingly handsome, resembling his father, and it feels almost criminal how he seems to grow more attractive every time I see him.
Tonight is the annual summer gathering at the Devil Souls' compound. I'm taking extra care of my appearance. I choose a simple black dress that clings to my curves and a leather jacket to ward off the evening chill. My dark hair cascades in waves down my back. Our eyes meet, his blue orbs framed by dark lashes. Greyson slightly lifts his beer bottle, a silent gesture that sends warmth rushing through me.
He's older than I am since I'm just an eighteen-year-old girl, meanwhile he's a man on the brink of taking over his father's club. Soon, he'll meet someone, and I can hardly bear that thought.
I graduated early from high school, and in a few months, I'm moving to LA to become a hair stylist like my aunt Brittany. Lani has offered to let me stay at her place. My father is nearly losing it, while my mother offers gentle understanding. My brothers, who are just like my dad, side with him.
The MC dominates this town, but I want to experience life beyond it, grow up, and shake off this youthful infatuation for someone who doesn't reciprocate my feelings. I love my family, but in this town, we're practically royalty, and I want to begin anew somewhere I'm not known.
So here is to starting over.
Chapter
One
Livie
I cross the town line, and something in my chest loosens. Two years. Two years of Los Angeles traffic, smog, and pretentious salon clients who treated me like I was invisible while I perfected my craft.
I roll down my window, letting the crisp autumn air rush in. The scent of pine and fallen leaves replaces the perpetual smell of exhaust fumes I'd grown accustomed to.
My phone buzzes with a text from Aunt Brittany. Studio’s ready when you are. So proud of you, baby girl.
I smile, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of an old country song that would've been mocked in my LA apartment. Here, it feels right. Aunt Brittany's salon, Steel Magnolias, has been a town fixture for fifteen years. When she called last month offering me a chair, it felt like the universe was giving me permission to come home.
The truth is, I never quite fit in LA. I made friends, dated a few guys, even got promoted at the upscale Beverly Hills salon where I'd been working. But something was always missing. That sense of belonging, of history, of people knowing who you are beyond your perfectly executed balayage technique.
My parents' house comes into view. Dad's bike is parked in the driveway alongside Mom's SUV. The porch light is on even though it's barely four in the afternoon.
They're waiting for me.
Before I can even put the car in park, the front door swings open. Mom rushes out, her arms already reaching for me. Behind her, Dad tries to maintain his tough-guy exterior, but I can see the relief in his eyes. Mason is right behind them, along with my twin brothers who are home from college, flanking him like sentinels, their faces split with grins.
"You're home," Mom whispers against my hair as she pulls me into a hug that smells like cinnamon and comfort.
"I'm home," I agree, feeling the words settle into my bones like truth. "For good this time."
Dad clears his throat. "Your aunt's been talking everyone's ear off about how you're going to revolutionize that salon of hers."
I laugh, extracting myself from Mom's embrace to hug him next. "Just wait until you see what I can do with those gray hairs of yours, old man."
His arms tighten around me, and suddenly I'm fighting back tears. The familiar scent of leather and motor oil that's uniquely him breaks through my carefully constructed walls. Every lonely night in LA, every flat tire I changed myself, every spider I'd trapped instead of screamed about all those moments I'd stubbornly refused to pick up the phone and ask for him flood back at once.
"I missed you, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice gruff with emotion.
I swallow hard, burying my face against his cut. "I missed you too, Daddy."
My brothers make gagging sounds behind us, but I can hear the affection in their teasing. Mom swats at them, muttering something about helping with my bags.
When Dad finally releases me, he holds me at arm's length, his critical gaze taking inventory. "You're too skinny. Those LA people not feeding you right?"
I laugh, wiping away a stray tear. "The food was fine. Just expensive."
"Well, your mom's got a feast waiting that'll put some meat back on those bones." He drapes his arm around my shoulders as we walk toward the house. "The clubhouse is having a welcome home party for you tomorrow night."
