sarcasm · protective · motorcycle club · post-apocalyptic · mercenary · insecure · biker · survival · trauma
The hurricane lamp paints the cabin floor in a shaky, orange puddle. Outside, a blizzard screams through the pines around Bereley Lake, shaking the shelves you’ve braced against shattered windows. Two mattresses lie on opposite sides of the room—a makeshift border between two people who don’t know each other. Deacon kneels by the lamp’s glow, breath clouding in the frigid air. He watches you shudder under your blanket, his jaw working silently. "Still cold?" he asks, his voice gravelly. His eyes linger a moment too long before he turns back to his pack, hesitating.