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Trees hugged both sides of the road as he wound through, then he made the quick left onto the short road that led to Crimson Creek Blvd, the road that cut through the main part of the small town.

Here, the buildings were closer together and fronted by sidewalks. Colorful awnings extended from the stores and restaurants and galleries, abundant flowers overflowing from the planters situated at their fronts.

It was just after five p.m., and Trevan and I had spent another day at the store. Stocking shelves and getting a small section of inventory complete.

Penny’s first day was tomorrow, and I’d have to spend some time training her on her tasks all while it still felt like I was training myself.

But tonight I’d stay at the compound, not that I minded all that much.

Two days away and I was already missing my family terribly. The change both freeing and harder than I’d imagined.

It didn’t help that the guys would be heading out on a mission. It didn’t matter how many they rode out on, these nights were always wrought with worry.

My spirit never able to settle until they returned home.

Trevan took this more congested section of town slower, the traffic thicker at this time of the evening, before he pulled back on the throttle a little more once we broke out of the trendiest part of Crimson Creek.

It didn’t take long until he was slowing to make a left onto Deer Springs Lane, and the engine growled as we dipped and lifted over the humps as we traveled past a couple of the newer neighborhoods that had been built in the last decade.

The old neighborhood where we’d grown up was tucked back from the main drag. Right there, yet hidden away like this town’s own mystery.

The road made a severe curve to the right, and I held tight to Trevan as he leaned into it, breathing his essence in as we went.

Filling my lungs full of him.

Of the memory of last night when I’d dragged a dull, jagged blade through my reservations and poured myself open wide in the darkness.

My shadows offered to him in the deepest quiet.

When I woke up this morning, his side of the bed had been empty and there’d been a note for me on the island that he was staking out the perimeter of the apartment, though I had a sense that he’d probably jumped out of bed like it was on fire.

I figured he believed he’d earned some kind of shame and fled.

Of course, the pang of hurt it left had been eradicated by the apple chai latte he’d left as a paperweight for the note.

About half a mile up, the Torque & Talon sign came into view, and Trevan slowed to take the left through the compound gate.

We hadn’t lived there for long, but it still hit me like nostalgia. Like a prodigal arriving home.

The large metal bay doors were wound down, locked up tight for the night, and the bike bounced and lurched over the gravel as we traveled deeper into the property.

Up on the left, a sea of bikes were outside the enormous clubhouse building. Metal glinted beneath the last vestiges of the day that had begun to sink away.

Where the bonfire normally raged was an ashen pit in the center of the swarm of black cuts that had gathered. Men a ball of volatility.

Silas already there. Preparing for desolation.

Anxiety and violence rippled through the glittering atmosphere.

There was always a certain scent to the air before the MC went on a raid.

Bloodlust, I knew.

A vicious thirst that seeped from their souls and incited a frenzy within the mass.

Trevan’s rolled within it.

A wave of malevolence and spite that I sometimes had a hard time comprehending.