Chapter 5

It’s been two days since Calix showed up at my shop. And the only thing stuck in my head is that he now knows where I am. I don’t like that. I didn’t want anyone from my past to know my location. I’ve worked hard to stay off the radar, to stay quiet. No pack, no name, no history trailing me… well, except the rogues who destroyed my shop two times because I was invading their territory. Anything other than that is peaceful.

But before Calix came, no one here knew who I used to be. I could breathe. I could work. I could sleep without thinking someone knows my past. Now, I have this feeling sitting in my chest, heavy and uncomfortable. I have a bad feeling things won’t stay quiet for long.

I try to push the thoughts out of my head and focus on the bike in front of me. The metal under my hands feels warm from the afternoon heat. I twist the last screw on the carburetor, checking the alignment again just to keep my mind busy. The shop is quiet, just the soft hum of the fan and the steady clinking of my tools on the floor.

The bike’s an old one—a rough, black model that looks like it’s been through more storms than its owner ever will. I tighten one last bolt, wipe my forehead with the back of my wrist, and mutter, “Almost done.” Talking to myself has become a habit lately. It keeps the silence from getting too heavy.

I move to check the oil, twisting the cap and watching it drip slowly into the catch pan. My fingers are stained with grease, but I don’t mind. This is what peace feels like for me. Just me, my work.

Or at least, it used to be peaceful.

My stomach tightens for no reason I can explain. That bad feeling I’ve been trying to ignore all day creeps back in. Maybe it’s because of Calix. Maybe it’s just nerves. Either way, it won’t leave me alone.

I shake my head, grab a rag, and bend down to check the front brake line. My wrench slips, hitting the concrete with a sharp clang that echoes too loudly. I wince, pick it up, and force myself to breathe slowly.

Then I hear the sound of engines. Not one—several.

The low, rumbling growl of cars pulling up outside the shop. My hands freeze mid-air. I glance toward the open door, squinting through the sunlight. Dust rises from the road as two black cars roll to a stop right in front of my shop.

For a second, I think maybe it’s Calix again—but then the doors open, and I know I’m wrong.

Four men step out, all dressed in black, faces hard and unfamiliar. Their scents hit me before their voices do—rogues. My wolf stirs inside me, uneasy, growling softly under my skin.

“Not again,” I whisper. My heart sinks as I drop the wrench.

The tallest one, a broad-shouldered man with a long scar down his cheek, steps forward. He looks around, eyes narrowing as he takes in the small shop.

“This’s your shop?” he asks, voice low and cold.

I straighten slowly, trying not to show fear. “Yeah. What do you want?”

He smiles, but it’s the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Didn’t we warn you already?”

My pulse spikes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Another man steps out from behind him, spitting on the ground. “You built on rogue territory again, little wolf. Didn’t you learn the first two times?”

The words hit me like a slap. My stomach twists. This is the third time. Three towns, three destroyed shops, three starts I thought would be different. But what choice do I have? No one else would rent to a stranger who was banished from her park.

“I didn’t know this was your land,” I say quickly, my voice shaking. “I just needed somewhere to work. I don’t want trouble.”

The man with the scar laughs, low and cruel. “Trouble’s exactly what you found.”

He nods at the others.

Before I can even react, one of them kicks over the toolbox. Metal crashes against concrete, the sound sharp and echoing. Another sweeps his arm across my worktable, sending tools and screws flying. My stomach drops.

“Stop!” I shout, rushing forward. “Don’t—”

A heavy hand grabs my arm and shoves me back. I stumble, hitting the edge of the counter. Pain shoots up my side.

“Please,” I say, breathless. “This is all I have. Don’t do this.”

They don’t listen. One of them smashes a window with a wrench, and another kicks over the bike I was fixing. It hits the floor with a loud crash, the sound of breaking glass and metal tearing through me like a knife.

My eyes sting. “Please! I’ll leave! Just don’t destroy it!”

But they keep going, laughing as they rip through everything I’ve built with my own hands. Oil spills across the floor. My shelves collapse, sending bolts scattering everywhere. The sound of my life falling apart fills the room.

When it’s finally over, I’m on my knees, clutching the side of the workbench, staring at what’s left. My shop is in ruins—again. Smoke rises from the broken engine, the air thick with dust and oil.

The man with the scar steps closer, crouching until his face is level with mine. His breath smells like smoke and cheap whiskey.

“Next time you think of building in our territory again,” he says slowly, his tone almost calm, “remember this.”

I lift my head weakly, tears blurring my vision.

He smirks. “If you rebuild in rogue territory again, we won’t just destroy your shop.” He leans in, voice dropping to a whisper that makes my blood run cold. “We’ll take you too. Straight to our rogue king. He loves collecting pretty little things like you.”

My breath catches in my throat.

He straightens and nods to his men. They turn, walking back to their cars like they hadn’t just destroyed everything I owned. The engines roar to life again, drowning out the silence.

I stay there, frozen on the floor, oil staining my hands, glass cutting into my knees.

When the cars disappear down the dirt road, I finally let out a shaky breath. My chest feels hollow. My shop—my home—is gone. Again.

And this time, I don’t even have the strength to cry.

I stand there, staring at what’s left of my shop. Pieces of metal and wood are scattered everywhere, and the air still smells like smoke. My chest feels heavy. My hands won’t stop shaking. Everything I worked for is gone again.

This is the third time. I keep trying to start over, hoping maybe they’ll leave me alone, but they never do.

My legs feel weak, and I lean against the broken doorframe. I don’t even know what to do now. Where will I go? Every area around here belongs to one pack or another. The rogues already warned me before, but I had nowhere else to go.

I’m still lost in my thoughts when I hear the sound of a bike pulling up. The noise grows louder, and my stomach sinks before I even look up.

Of course. Just perfect.

Calix’s bike stops right in front of the wreckage. He takes off his helmet, his face tightening as he looks around.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “You had to come now.”

He looks at me, then at the broken sign and the ashes on the ground. “What the hell happened?”

I sigh and shake my head. “What does it look like? My shop’s destroyed.”

“Who did it?” he asks, stepping closer.

“The rogues,” I say quietly. “This isn’t the first time. But what can I do? I’m nobody here.”

He’s silent for a few seconds, still staring at me. I don’t want to hear whatever is going through his head.

“Don’t say anything to piss me off,” I warn him. “Just leave.”

But instead of leaving, he says something that makes me stop breathing for a second.

“Be my girlfriend.”

I turn to look at him properly, confused. “What?”

He crosses his arms, like he’s not joking at all. “Be my girlfriend for three months.”

I blink. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?”

“I’m serious,” he says. “There’s a three-month biker tournament coming up. My club expects me to bring someone, for my image. You play my girlfriend, and I’ll rebuild your shop. I’ll give you enough money to restart it. Your tools, your place—everything.”

I let out a dry laugh. “You’re kidding me, right? Just get out, Calix.”

He doesn’t move. His eyes stay on me, calm and steady. “You should let go of your pride, Rhiannon. Look around. You’ve got nowhere else to go. If you take my deal, you’ll get a new shop—one no one will dare touch. You’ll have customers every day because you’ll be fixing bikes for my MC. You’ll have protection. Stability.”

I want to yell at him, to tell him to shove his offer. But the words don’t come out. Because he’s right.

I look around again, at the ashes, the smoke, the tools buried under rubble. My chest tightens. I hate that he’s right.

“I can’t believe I’m even thinking about this,” I mumble.

He doesn’t say anything. He just watches me, waiting.

Finally, I look up at him. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only when people are around. When we’re alone, you stay away from me.”

A slow smirk spreads across his face. “Deal.”

I roll my eyes and turn away, pretending not to notice the way he’s still looking at me like he’s already won.