Chapter 2

It was pushing midnight by the time I pulled up to the farmhouse where I grew up. There were four beat up pickup trucks and twelve motorcycles lining the driveway.

My heart sank. Jake must’ve been having one of his infamous parties. He hadn’t heard from me in years, and now I was about to crash his gathering looking like I’d been in a bar fight. I hesitated, my hand on the handle of the car door. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

But where else could I go? I had no money, no phone, and Craig would be looking for me. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.

I stood for a moment, checking myself over. My heart pounded with a mix of fear and determination. Craig had always been disgusted at the way I chose to dress, always wanting me to conform to his idea of luxury and perfection. But tonight, I didn't have time to put on a facade. I glanced down at my ratty gray slippers, frayed around the edges from years of use. My blue plaid pajama shorts barely covered my trembling legs, and my thin gray tank top and black modal robe did little to protect me from the chilly fall air.

As I shivered, goosebumps spread across my exposed skin, revealing faded bruises scattered across my bare legs and chest. These were souvenirs from previous unwarranted "lessons" taught by my loving husband. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of shame and anger as I took in the evidence of his abuse.

Turning to look at my reflection in the car window, I couldn't help but wince at the sight. My blonde hair was disheveled and falling out of the messy bun on top of my head. My nose was purple and swollen, and dark bruises were beginning to creep in under both eyes. I looked rough, like a victim who had taken one too many beatings. But tonight, I was determined not to let Craig break me anymore. Tonight, I would stand up for myself and finally take back control of my life.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped toward the house. As I approached, I could hear the faint thrum of music and laughter. The old wooden steps creaked under my weight, a familiar sound that brought back a flood of childhood memories. The porch light flickered, casting eerie shadows across the overgrown lawn. I raised my hand to knock, then paused. What if Jake was mad at me? What if he turned me away?

Before I could second-guess myself further, the door creaked open. A towering figure stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His black beard was trimmed short, and his hair was pulled into a bun at the back of his head. His leather vest gleamed under the dim light of the hallway.

“Shut the fuck up, Wilson, I’ll be right b—” his deep voice boomed over the thump of the music as he turned to face me, nearly knocking me over with his force.

He froze when he saw me, recognition flashing through his piercing green eyes. It was Talon Nash, my brother’s best friend. His hand still hovered on the doorknob as he took in my appearance - the bruises marring my skin, the tangled mess of my hair, and the worn-out pajamas that barely covered me. Heat rushed to my cheeks as his gaze moved slowly down my body, cataloguing every detail with a mix of concern and surprise.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, his brow furrowing. “Laura?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable. “I… I need to see Jake,” I managed to whisper, my voice cracking.

Talon’s expression shifted from surprise to concern. Without a word, he gently placed a hand on my shoulder and guided me inside. The warmth of the house enveloped me, along with the smell of beer and cigarettes. The party was in full swing, with people crowded into every corner of the living room.

“Wilson!” he bellowed over the noise and glanced at a girl with black hair and tattoos who was sitting by the sound system. “Becky, turn down the fuckin music. Where’s Prez?”

Summoned by Talon’s booming voice, Jake emerged from the kitchen, a beer bottle in hand and a confused expression on his face.

“What the fuck, Nash, I thought you were going outsi—” His eyes widened as they landed on me, and the bottle slipped from his hand, shattering on the hardwood floor.

“Laura?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the music.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at us. I felt my cheeks burn once more with embarrassment, all too aware of how I must look to all these strangers. Jake pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes never leaving my face.

“What the hell happened to you?” he demanded, his voice a mixture of concern and anger.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, I felt hot tears start to roll down my cheeks. Jake’s expression softened, and without hesitation, he pulled me into a rough embrace. I sobbed into his chest, letting the enormous weight of the evening fall from my shoulders.

We stood like that for a few minutes before he moved and held me back at arm’s length to look me over.

“Craig did this to you, didn’t he… I never fuckin liked that guy.”

I nodded weakly, unable to meet Jake’s eyes. The shame I felt was overwhelming, but a small part of me was relieved to finally admit the truth.

Jake’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as he processed my silent confirmation. “I’ll kill him,” he growled, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Talon stepped forward, his imposing presence seeming to fill the room. “Jake, man, we need to get her out of here. This ain’t the place for this conversation.”

Jake nodded, suddenly remembering the crowd of curious onlookers. He turned to address the room, his voice booming over the music and chatter. “Party’s over, folks. Clear the fuck out.”

There were a few grumbles of protest, but one stern look from Jake silenced them. People began to file out, casting curious looks in my direction as they left.

As the house cleared out, Jake stood in the corner with Talon, deep in conversation. I crumpled onto the leather couch and gave myself a moment to take in Talon’s imposing form.

His arms and hands were covered with intricate tattoos, each one telling its own story. Another design snaked up the side of his neck. A dark gray V-neck shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders. The Warriors patch on the back of his vest gleamed white in the dim lamplight.

His jeans clung to every curve of his powerful thighs and ass, accentuating every ripple. My eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the impressive bulge at the front of those jeans, conjuring memories of the rumors I had heard about him back in high school. As a lowly freshman while he and my brother were seniors, I had still been privy to all of the gossip surrounding his sexual prowess. Tales of his conquests with girls from our school and even neighboring towns had spread like wildfire, making him somewhat of a legend in his own right.

I quickly averted my gaze as Talon glanced in my direction, feeling a flush of embarrassment at where my mind had wandered. This was hardly the time or the place for such thoughts. I was here seeking refuge from my abusive husband, not to ogle my brother’s best friend.

Jake and Talon finished their hushed conversation and approached me. Jake knelt down in front of me, his eyes filled with concern and barely contained rage, as well as something else. Guilt, maybe?

“Laura, I need you to tell me everything,” he said softly. “What happened tonight? How long has this been going on?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the confession I was about to make. As I began to speak, recounting the years of abuse and isolation, Jake’s face darkened. His fists clenched and unclenched as I described the escalating violence, the emotional manipulation, and the constant fear I lived with.

Talon remained standing above Jake, with his arms crossed stoically across his chest, listening as I poured out my story. His green eyes never left my face.

When I was finished, Jake huffed and stared up at Talon, gritting his teeth. They had an unspoken conversation, and Talon gave a barely noticeable nod before they both turned their attention back to me.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. You’re here now, and as long as you’re here, we’ll keep you safe.” Jake said softly, his fingers cupping my chin as he lifted my face to inspect the damage. “I think your nose is broken. It doesn’t look like it needs to be reset, though. Ice will help with the swelling.” He rose and made his way toward the kitchen, leaving me alone with his friend.

Talon’s intense gaze lingered on me for a moment before he spoke, his deep voice rumbling through the now-quiet house. “You did the right thing coming here, angel. We’ll make sure that bastard never lays a hand on you again.”

I nodded with a small smile, grateful for their support but still feeling vulnerable and exposed. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, pulling my robe tighter around me. Talon must have sensed my discomfort because he shrugged off his vest and draped it over my shoulders. The warmth of the leather and the intoxicating smell of his cologne enveloped me, and I relaxed a bit, into the unexpected feeling of comfort.

Jake returned from the kitchen with an ice pack wrapped in a towel. He handed it to me, and I gingerly pressed it against my swollen nose, wincing at the initial contact.

“You can stay in your old room,” Jake said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “It’s pretty much the same as you left it.”