ASHES OF BROTHERHOOD

Ash Pov

The gates opened with a groan causing my heart to clench.

Six years behind those walls, and they still didn’t feel like they were done drilling me. I stood there, staring at the open road like it was a stranger totally confused on what to do. 

The air outside was definitely different from the stale, congested air I had been breathing for the longest. I had almost forgotten what fresh air smelt like. 

A Harley waited at the curb for me. The deep and familiar sound of the engine roared, giving me a nostalgic feeling. Behind it, three more bikes were laying carelessly. 

They were made of black leather and belonged to the Vultures; my brothers.

Smoke oozed off the first bike as the rider approached, his grin wide and careless. “Look who’s finally out. Still remember what freedom feels like?”

I tried to smile but it came out forced. “Feels lighter than steel bars, I guess.”

He pulled me into a hug. He smelled like oil and cigarettes. “We kept your girl tuned, didn’t think you’d want anyone else touching her.” He said gesturing to the bike behind him. 

He was sounding and acting like I had been gone for six days and not six years and distracting my mind with the bike was the only way to kill my nervousness and stop myself from asking him if being locked up for six years didn't sound like a lot to him. 

I took in the sight. It was repainted black and beautiful. It was so clean, almost like she’d been waiting for me. I ran my hand over the handle, the warm metal under my palm felt unreal for a second, it almost felt like coming home.

“Let’s ride,” I said, because those were the only words my mouth managed to form at that moment. 

The road swallowed us whole. As the engines roared, wind slapped my face, and every mile was covered I began to feel the ease seeping into my bones. 

The city looked different. There was a new mall, tall buildings had sprouted from nothingness, life had grown busier. And although I felt like I had a lot of catching up to do, I felt alive and free. 

Even though this freedom wasn’t quiet. It was loud and alien but very comfortable. It reminded me of everything I’d lost, everything I couldn’t fix and everything I was ready to build. 

Six years gone.

Six years replaying one night over and over again. 

Six years playing guilty. 

I told myself I’d done what I had to do. That I saved a brother and that was all brotherhood was about. But beneath it all, prison gives you time to see the truth. I didn’t just save him, I had killed myself that night too.

We reached the compound as the sun went down. The Iron Vultures’ sign still hung above the gate, chipped but proud. Nothing had changed. 

As we stepped in, the laughter spilled from the clubhouse. The music was too loud and the air smelt of alcohol . I had almost forgotten what it meant to be here. 

“Our brother is back!” Smoke yelled as we parked our bikes. Walking to me, he gripped me in his embrace. “Wellcome back brother.”

More men trouped around celebrating my return. Some faces were familiar and others totally alien but one thing was certain about each and every person. They were happy to have me back. Or so I thought. 

Someone shouted my name and slapped my back. Another shoved a bottle into my hand and said “drink up.” 

The whole welcome back was chaotic. I was grateful for the gesture, but I just needed a hot bath and alone time. 

“No thank you? Did time make you meaner?” someone called out. 

“Glad you’re home, brother.” another said nicely. For the next few minutes, I had to answer so many questions. Some sensible, others emotionally displeasing. 

I raised the whiskey, took a long drink, and as the familiar burn slid down my throat, I savoured it. Another reminder that this wasn't a dream. I was out for good. 

“I’m here,” I said to myself.“I am home, with my brothers. Finally.” I sighed, feeling the familiar sting in my eyes and I swallowed hard to keep it in check. 

They cheered and I smiled at them and about thirty minutes later, smoke finally found a way to sneak me out to some peace and quiet.

Now clean and refreshed, I tried to rest on the comfy bed but it felt too comfortable. Almost like I didn't deserve it so I decided to talk a walk around the environment to see if anything had changed. 

I thought about the promise I made the night they cuffed me. No more blood or killing no matter what. Now that I was back, I was determined to abide by it. 

I wanted peace but I just didn’t know if peace wanted me back. And in a matter of minutes, I was almost convinced it didn't.  

Engines roared down the road loud and fast and my gut tightened. Before I could get a hang over whatever was happening, the Steel Reapers, our rival patch streamed in in a row of straight blinding lights. 

“Shit,” I muttered, flicking the cigarette in my hand away.

Smoke burst out of the club yelling “Who just came here?”

But before I could answer, they were already in the yard, swinging chains and bats. shouting and doing what they knew how to do best. Causing havoc. 

Before I could think, I jumped in the middle of it, grabbing one off Smoke and shoving him back. Another came swinging and I ducked and hit hard. I felt his jaw crack. 

The sound brought the past rushing in—fights in the yard, blood in my mouth and the taste of violence I swore I’d left behind. But I couldn't let them hurt my own under my watch.

Once a soldier, always a soldier. 

Someone lunged with a knife and I twisted his wrist till he dropped it. I had slammed him into the ground so bad he didn’t get back up.

As I turned to take down another, a loud shot rent the air and a hot burn ripped through my shoulder. Stumbling, hand pressed to the wound, I fell to my knees. Ryder ran to help me while the boys fired back with all intensity. 

The Reapers took off as fast as they came, loud engines fading into the night. Smoke ran to me immediately with a pale face. “You’re hit!”

“That… is very correct.” I replied between fast breaths. 

“You’re bleeding like hell, Vega. Let me…:

“I said I’m fine.” The words came out rough. I didn’t want them looking at me like I was weak. Especially not after six years of surviving worse.

Groaning, I managed to stand up and walk past him, straight to my bike. My vision blurred, but I climbed on anyway. 

“Vega!” Smoke called. “You need a medic!”

“Yeah,” I said under my breath. “I do.”

The Harley roared to life, and without a second thoughy, I rode into the dark. The wind blew my hair as the blood soaked my shirt. Every turn blurred into another as the pain began to become something too excruciating.  

I kept telling myself I was fine, but the world was fading at the edges and my hand shook on the throttle.

Up ahead, a sign glowed faint in the dark: Free Clinic.

Maybe it was luck, or maybe even mercy. But right now,I didn’t care which it was. I turned in hard, tires screeching against the asphalt and the bike slid to a stop, engine growling. I stumbled off, boots hitting the ground. 

Light spilled from the doorway as I banged on the door, my breath shallow.

It opened.

A tall, lean,man opened the door for me. For a second, I thought I’d imagined him but he looked at me, then at the blood running down my arm and screamed. “Jesus, you’re…”

I didn’t hear the rest as my knees buckled and my world faded away. Strong hands caught me before I hit the ground but I was barely even conscious. 

I tried to speak, to tell him not to call anyone or tell the cops but my voice broke apart and suddenly, everything went black.