All Chapters of Talon - A Warriors MC Romance: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

We didn’t bother piling into the chapel. Jake called the club together in the wreckage of our bar, the dim light casting long shadows across the battered faces of my brothers. Laura sat on the edge of the pool table next to Trina, her hands resting on her stomach, her eyes fixed on me like I was the only thing in the room. She hadn’t said a word since Viktor left, but I could feel her worry from across the room, like a current running between us.Jake stood at the center of it all, his cut hanging open, his face hard and unreadable. “We don’t have a choice,” he said, his voice steady. “If we don’t hit them back, they’ll keep coming. It’s a matter of time.”Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room, but no one seemed eager to speak up. This wasn’t just another skirmish, another turf war. The Volkov Syndicate was a massive threat, one we couldn’t face alone. But we didn’t stand a chance if we didn’t swing back at ‘em.“We’re really going in blind?” Dex muttered from the corner, his

The sewer entrance was hidden beneath a heavy metal grate, the stench of decay and stagnant water wafting up as Viktor pried it open with ease. He dropped down first, disappearing into the darkness without a word. I exchanged a glance with Jake, then followed, my boots hitting the wet concrete with a soft splash. The tunnel was narrow and dark, the walls slick with moisture and the air thick with putrid odors that made my stomach churn. The faint drip of water echoed through the passage, and the only light came from the small flashlight that Viktor held. We moved in silence, our footsteps muffled by the damp floor, the tension between us so thick it felt like another presence trailing us. A sudden noise up ahead made me freeze, my hand instinctively going to the knife at my belt. Viktor stopped, his broad shoulders tensing as he turned his head to listen. “Stay clos

Laura stood in the doorway, face pale and eyes wide with worry. She looked so small, swallowed up by one of my hoodies. Trina and Becky were behind her, their expressions tense but supportive, though they hung back to give her space. Her blonde hair was a mess, with strands clinging to her tear-streaked face. Her eyes locked on mine, and for a second, the room seemed to dissolve around us. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my shoulder forced me back down. “Angel,” I said, my voice rough, but softer now, just for her. In an instant, she was at my side, her hands hovering over me like she was afraid to touch me but couldn’t stand not to. Her fingers brushed against my arm, feather-light, and then she sank into the chair Jake had vacated silently as he left the room to talk with Trina and Becky in the hall. “You’re okay,” she whispere

Laura was cuddled up to me in the hospital bed again when Dr. Hayes came knocking. He didn’t bother waiting for an invitation, just pushed open the door. His eyes landed on Laura, who was curled up against my side like she belonged there, and then on me, his expression softening. “Mr. Nash,” he said. “How are we feeling today?” “We?” I raised an eyebrow, my tone dry. “Feels like I’m the only one in the bed, doc.” He smirked. “Okay, well, I’ve come to tell you that you can go home today, if you wish.” I reached for the IV in my arm, ready to rip it out, but Laura laid her hand on mine. “Yeah, yeah, not so fast,” Dr. Hayes said, stepping toward the bed. “You’re not out of the woods yet. Your wounds need time to heal,

The next few weeks blended into a tedious a blur, each day bleeding into the next as my life became a monotonous cycle of bed-rotting and physical therapy. Laura hovered over me like a guardian angel, but she knew when to leave me alone with my brooding thoughts. I had my stitches out, and I’d finally graduated from that fuckin sling, a small victory in a war that felt endless. Willing my body to cooperate was frustrating as hell, and I was still leaning heavily on the damn cane every time I moved around. That cane was more than a crutch. It was a constant reminder of my own helplessness, a leash tethering me to this half-life of recovery. Every time I heard it thud against the floor, every step I relied on it for, it reminded me of how far I still had to go. And how much I’d lost. The PT sessions were a bitch, but my therapist, Claire, insisted that I was on track to make a full recovery. I