Unbroken

Hunter carried my suitcase in one arm and walked me to the entrance, his free hand clasped tightly in mine. His excitement was infectious. I couldn’t stop smiling at the warm looks he gave me, his face carefree—

Boyish.

My Hunter looked boyish and charming and like a shining light.

It had been years since I’d seen him like this. Since we stole apples in Mrs Lola Norris’ backyard and ran from her barking Rottweilers.

We entered the clubhouse. I was surprised to find it empty. No one was behind the counter, and no bikers sat on the leather couches. The pub next door was lightly occupied with buyers. Overall, it was quiet. Hunter led me behind the counter and let go of my hand to remove a card from his pocket. He scanned it at the door, and it buzzed open.

“Security,” he explained at my questioning stare. “Clubhouse is heavily guarded.”

I didn’t think that was possible in such a busy location, but once we stepped through into the backroom, I realized how wrong I was.

We entered a surveillance room filled with screens. On one screen was the view outside the clubhouse, another was the parking lot. There was a camera in every location surrounding the clubhouse, so our arrival was very expected. I glimpsed the room quickly. There were open cabinets filled with an assortment of guns, knives, and bulletproof vests.Jesus.Sitting before the screens were two young bikers not much older than Hunter. They were wearing their cuts, the insignia visible to me. It was a fiery red skull with two battle axes crossing over it and a sword running down the middle. One biker was a red head with piercing blue eyes, every inch of his skin and neck loaded with tattoos. He glimpsed at me, face unreadable as he said to Hunter, “We gotta check that suitcase, bro.”

“Fuck off, Kyle,” Hunter simply replied as he walked us to a staircase.

Kyle laughed low in his throat. “What? I gotta make sure that sweet little thing ain’t packing—”

“Call her a sweet little thing again and I’m gonna fuck you up.”

The other man laughed. “Don’t push Hunter. You know he ain’t lying.”

Their banter was friendly—they were clearly comfortable poking one another like this, but I still remained silent and tense. I found myself gravitating to Hunter as he smiled broadly at them, pointing his finger at Kyle to say, “Jay is right. Ineverlie.”

Kyle continued to smile with ease, but his eyes flickered back to me and followed my every move. He stroked his beard, studying me as Hunter went to one of the cabinets and opened it. He slid out of his jacket and into another one. My mouth dropped, head spinning as I watched him fit into his cut.

He is definitely one of them.

While the emblem was huge on the back with WARLORDS printed underneath, the front had a different name on it. I quickly read Savage above the right breast pocket in solid white stitching. His role in the club was absent on his cut, and I didn’t know what that meant.

“You gotta wear that out more,” Jay mused, his grin broad. “Stop being so fucking humble, man.”

It was humble to not wear his cut? I wondered.

“Yeah,” Kyle agreed now, still watching me. “You’re elevating the ranks, man. Nothing to scoff at. Be proud.”

Hunter glanced at me quickly, his face unreadable. Like…maybe he was embarrassed? I couldn’t read Hunter sometimes. He ignored the guys’ remarks and extended his hand out to me. “Come, flower. Let’s get you settled in.”

The guys waved bye at us as Hunter took me up a flight of stairs and to another door. There was a camera pointed right at us here too. I didn’t look straight at it as Hunter scanned his card on the reader and the light above it went from red to green. The door clicked open, and Hunter swung it wide.

I was about to step into official Warlord territory, unsure of what I’d find.

This was it.

I would wade into what would become my life for half the year to come.

I let out a shaky breath, trying to squash down the words whispered through town about the Warlords.

Heathens.

Murderers.

Violent beasts of the night.

I peeked at Hunter.

Mysavage.

The half of my everything.

Squeezing his hand, he squeezed mine in response, and then I took my first step.