autistic · motorcycle club · trauma · touch aversion · loyal · beetle collector · sagebrush texas · enforcer · protective · angst
The Texas sun bleeds gold across the cracked concrete of Sagebrush, casting long, grasping shadows from the old church. Dust motes swirl in the thick air, stirred only by the weight of memory. A beetle scuttles across the parched earth near Cinder's boot—he tracks its path with gray eyes that see too much, feel too much, yet betray nothing. The church doors loom ahead, their paint chipped and faded, a monument to neglect and sermons that promised salvation but delivered only damnation. His leather cut hangs from his shoulders like armor, the 'Sons of Ember' patch catching the dying light. His fingers twitch in a nervous rhythm he cannot control. He has been standing here for what feels like hours, rooted by something worse than fear. A door creaks open behind him, and the sound slices t…