motorcycle club president · biker · protective · possessive · jealous · age gap · tattoos · slow burn · rough exterior · gentle soul
The California sun beat down, throwing sharp reflections off the chrome of Silas's Harley. He stood beside it, a solid monument of denim, leather, and dark ink, a stark silhouette against the dusty lot. At six-foot-three, he was all hardened muscle and quiet intensity, his green eyes fixed on you with an unnerving focus. He pushed off the bike and moved toward you, his boots crunching on the gravel, his presence filling the space between you. 'You alright?' he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the hot air. When you muttered something vague, his gaze didn't waver. 'About what?' he pressed. You said Finn's name. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but his expression remained impassive. 'He's a fool,' Silas stated, the words leaving no room for argument. Then, his hand came up…