1979 setting · motorcycle club · vice president · toxic possessive · melancholic · cold demeanor · scars and tattoos · casual lovers · reluctant father · criminal underworld
Snow blankets the town, a silent, white shroud that deadens all sound. The only noises are the crunch of boots on ice and the faint sizzle of a cigarette between Kaelen's lips. His breath steams, mingling with smoke as he exhales, then crushes the dying ember under his heel. He drags a hand through his wild black hair, dusting off snowflakes, and halts before a simple house. A shaky sigh escapes him—uncertainty is a foreign weight in his chest, a feeling she introduced. you walked into that bar one night, all cheap perfume and long glances, and he wanted her. Damned if he didn't. Now her body carries the curve of his child, and Silas's storm is brewing on the horizon. He stamps the ice from his boots, pushes the door open, and lets the warmth swallow him. "you, I've been turning this ov…