ASHES & PAIN
Chapter 1
BAND-AID
Dryden stretched out ahead in waves of dust and glare, the road shimmering just enough to blur the edges of everything that mattered. Kait didn’t slow coming in. Didn’t need to. Her line stayed steady, clean, practiced—leaning just enough into the turn off the highway, throttle easing back without thinking.
Same road. Same town.
Nothing new.
The Nest came into view behind the low line of trees and busted fencing, sitting where it always had—sun-faded, solid, unbothered by time or anything else trying to pass through it.
She rolled in without hesitation.
Gravel crunched under her tires as she crossed into the lot, engine still running hot beneath her. A couple of bikes were already there. A few more than usual for this time of day.
Normal.
The boys and the truck followed after another successful run.
She killed the engine.
Silence dropped in hard after it.
For a second, the heat filled it.
Then everything else came back.
Voices. Laughter. Gotta Get Away by the Offspring bleeding through the walls.
Kait swung her leg off the Kriger and set her boots down, steady, grounded. Pulled her gloves off slow, tucking them into the back of her jeans.
She didn’t rush.
Inside, the air hit different—cooler, but thick with the usual mix of beer, sweat, and something fried coming from the kitchen. The bar was active. Not packed, but moving. A couple of snakeholes by the pool tables, one of them laughing too loud at something Ram said that wasn’t that funny. Two prospects at the far end trying to keep up with an order they weren’t handling fast enough.
Same place.
Same noise.
She cut behind the bar, grabbed a clean glass, and reached for the bottle already sitting out.
Vodka.
She poured it without measuring.
Didn’t look at anyone.
Didn’t wait for a conversation.
Just lifted it and drank.
First swallow went down clean. Burned a little. Not enough to matter.
She set the glass down, wiped her thumb along the rim once, then poured another.
No one said anything.
No one needed to.
She took the second one faster.
Set the glass down again and moved on like it hadn’t happened.
At the far end of the bar, Mack and Diablo talked low. Something about movement south. Routes tightening up. Names mentioned without being explained.
Klaus’ name came up once.
Europe.
Kait didn’t react. Didn’t need to.
The world kept moving whether anyone said it out loud or not.
Kolton walked in. Baseball cap on backwards to hide a tender scar on his hairline. His face free of cuts and bruises now.
“Hey.”
His voice came easy. Too easy.
Like nothing had changed.
“Didn’t know you were back already.”
Kait didn’t slow.
“Hey. Did Loraine drive you?”
He smiled like that meant something.
“Nope, I rode—”
She reached the bar, grabbed the bottle this time instead of the glass, and poured straight into it without looking at him.
Didn’t drink yet.
Just held it.
“How’s that new bike working for ya?”
“Good. Just gotta add a few things.”
“Nice. How’d it feel riding again?”
“Fucking great. I miss it.”
“I’m sure.”
Kolton leaned in a little, dropping his voice.
“Miss you too… We should talk. It’s been—”
“Not now, Kolt. Worry about making your presence known in church.”
It came clean. Flat.
Not sharp. Not angry.
He paused.
Kait took a drink straight from the bottle.
Set it down harder than necessary.
“Gonna change. I’m glad you’re riding again.”
He nodded once flashing a charming crooked smile.
Kolton stayed where he was for a second longer, the smile slipping just a fraction before he forced it back into place.
The chapel was already full when Kait stepped in.
Light cut through the high windows in long strips, dust hanging slow in it. The tank along the wall hummed low. Water shifted once, the Judge sliding along the glass before disappearing back into shadow.
She moved to her spot and sat.
Don was already at the head.
Kolton to his side.
Blaze stood near the door, not sitting, arms loose at his sides but his attention moving—tracking, checking, holding the room the way the Sergeant-at-Arms should.
Different.
Still worked.
Kriket and Buster sat at the table now. Not pushed in, not waiting. Just there.
No space made for them.
No space taken either.
Everything filled.
Don started without preamble.
“Routes are holding.”
His voice carried clean, steady. Same as always.
“Falfurrias stays active. No issues since Reyes pulled back.”
A few nods.
No questions.
“Movement’s picking up south. We keep it controlled. No extra noise.”
Blaze shifted his stance slightly. Someone near the wall straightened without being told.
Don continued.
“Yuma’s open for business. Las Cruces will follow next month.”
Kolton leaned forward a little.
“If we push both, we can spread coverage. Take pressure off Falfurrias.”
He said it like he’d already decided it made sense.
The room didn’t move with him.
A couple glances.
Then back to Don.
Don let it sit a second.
“Not yet.”
Flat.
Done.
Kolton leaned back like it didn’t matter.
“Just saying.”
No one picked it up.
Don kept going.
“Border’s tightening. Gila said Talamantes is pushing north.”
No reaction.
Just attention.
“We don’t adjust unless we have to. Keep things clean.”
Kait stayed quiet.
Tracking.
Routes. Names. Movement.
Same as always.
Heavier.
“Any word from Klaus?” Randy asked.
“He’s handling it,” Don said.
Nothing else.
The room accepted it.
“Talked to Kount earlier. Cut two more loose. He’s at six now. Keeping it tight. Says he’s not carrying dead weight. Clubhouse is still a mess. Old place needs work.”
Kait didn’t hear the rest. She could only think of him… with her on that table.
By the time she realized it, church had already broken.
She didn’t get up right away.
Her hand moved to the table in front of her, fingers dragging lightly across the wood.
Right where he’d had her.
Kolton’s hand came down over hers.
It snapped her out of it.
“Wanna get a beer before I take off?”
She looked at him for a second.
“Sure.”
HUNTSVIlLE
Night settled heavy over the Huntsville clubhouse.
The property sat back off the road, older than it should’ve been, boards warped in places, porch sagging just enough to notice if you knew what to look for. Work lights threw hard white across the yard, cutting through the dark in sharp angles. Tools were still out. Lumber stacked along one side. A section of fence half-finished, posts set but not strung.
They’d called it for the day.
Lane stood near the back of the property with a bottle in his hand, beer already warm from sitting out. Dirt clung to his jeans, shirt damp along the back and collar. He didn’t look tired.
Just… still moving, even standing still.
Koa leaned against the table, working through his own beer while Trace sat on an overturned bucket near the fence line, forearms resting on his thighs. He looked at the lumber and fencing knowing they had a long way to go.
Lane’s gaze tracked the fence again.
“We’ll start from the south corner tomorrow,” he said, nodding once toward the far end where the posts dipped uneven. “Run it straight across. No gaps.”
Trace followed his line of sight.
“Ground’s soft over there. Gonna shift if we don’t set it deep.”
“Then we set it deep.”
No hesitation.
Koa took a slow drink, eyes still on the fence.
“Wire or boards?”
“Both,” Lane said. “Wire first. Boards later. Keep it tight.”
Trace nodded once.
“Yeah. That’ll hold.”
Kount shifted his weight, taking a drink without really tasting it.
“Pest control is coming in tomorrow,” he said
“Good. Saw tracks near the back door.”
Lane’s eyes moved there immediately.
“What kind.”
“Small. Probably rats. Maybe worse.”
Lane nodded once.
“Yeah, fuck that. Fucking slobs.”
Trace let out a short breath through his nose.
“Gonna be a long week.”
“It already is.”
Silence settled in again.
Not awkward.
Just work already lining itself up for the next day.
Somewhere off to the side, near the house, a small radio crackled to life.
Static first.
Then music.
Soft.
Out of place.
Lane didn’t react at first.
Kept looking at the fence, at the line, at the work that still needed doing.
“We’ll definitely need more posts,” he said, voice steady. “That section won’t—”
The song slid in under his words.
He stopped.
Just for a second.
Koa and Trace didn’t notice it right away.
Lane’s jaw tightened. His grip shifted slightly on the bottle, fingers pressing harder than they needed to.
Neon Moon carried across the yard.
Low.
Clear enough now.
He tried to keep going.
“…won’t hold if we don’t reinforce the—”
The words didn’t land.
They didn’t connect.
The line in his head broke.
“Where the fuck is it?”
His eyes moved, searching without looking like he was searching, tracking the sound instead of the work.
The radio sat near the back steps, half-buried in tools and scrap.
Still playing.
Lane stared at it for a second longer than necessary.
Then he moved.
Fast.
Crossed the yard in a few strides, boots hitting dirt hard enough to send dust up behind him.
Koa straightened slightly.
Trace lifted his head.
Neither said anything.
Lane reached the radio, bent, and grabbed it without slowing.
The music cut for half a second as it shifted in his hand.
Then—
He slammed it against the ground.
Plastic cracked.
The sound snapped through the yard, sharp and sudden.
He didn’t stop.
Brought his boot down on it once.
Twice.
Again.
Hard enough to break it apart, pieces scattering under the light.
The song warped, distorted, then died completely.
Silence dropped in.
Lane stood over what was left, chest rising once, then settling.
No one moved.
He didn’t look at them.
Didn’t say anything.
Just turned and walked away, back toward the house, like nothing had happened.
Like it hadn’t meant anything.
Koa glanced at Trace.
Trace stared at the broken pieces in the dirt, then back toward Lane’s back disappearing into the dark.
“…the hell was that?” Trace muttered.
Koa didn’t answer.
Just picked up his beer again.
And kept watching.
THE NEST
The courtyard had settled into that in-between quiet.
Not dead. Not busy.
Just… steady.
A couple voices drifted from inside. Until it Sleeps carried low through the walls, blending into the hum of the night.
Kait sat at one of the picnic tables, legs crossed. Bottle in her hand. Half gone.
She didn’t rush it.
Kolton sat next to her, close enough to talk without raising his voice, one hand wrapped around his own beer. He’d been saying something before—nothing important. Just filling space.
He stopped for a second.
Then exhaled.
“I mean it.”
Kait didn’t look up.
“I know I’ve said shit before. But… I mean it now.”
She took a drink.
Didn’t answer.
Kolton adjusted his hat , jaw tightening slightly before he forced it to settle.
“I was out of my head,” he said. “Back then. All that shit… I was high most of the time. Didn’t even—”
He stopped himself.
Reset.
“That’s not an excuse,” he added quickly. “I know that.”
Kait’s gaze lifted to him.
“I shouldn’t have put my hands on you,” he said. “Ever.”
Silence stretched between them.
Kait took another drink, slower this time.
Then set the bottle down beside her.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
Kait didn’t correct him.
They sat in it for a second.
Just… numb.
Kolton took a drink, eyes dropping to the ground for a moment before lifting back up to her.
“I appreciate what you’ve been doing,” he said. “Being there for me.”
Kait didn’t react.
“You didn’t have to,” he added.
“Just get better.”
Kolton let out a short breath through his nose.
“Yeah,” he said. “I will, I am…”
He hesitated.
“I’m moving back into the house this weekend.”
Kait didn’t move.
“There’s a lot of space,” he said, quieter now. “You don’t have to stay here all the time. You could—”
“I’m not moving in with you, Kolton.”
Clean.
Immediate.
“I’m staying right here.”
He blinked once.
Like he hadn’t expected it to land that fast.
Then nodded.
“Alright.”
No argument.
No push.
He took another drink, letting it sit there instead of trying to fix it.
“Figured I’d ask,” he said.
Kait didn’t respond.
Didn’t need to.
Kolton scooted a little closer, not enough to crowd her, just enough to close the gap.
Kait didn’t move.
Didn’t lean in either.
He hesitated.
Then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth.
Soft.
Gone as fast as it landed.
Kait stilled.
Not pulling back.
Not responding.
Just… caught for a second.
“Don’t…” she said.
Quiet.
Not sharp.
But final.
Kolton backed up immediately.
“Sorry, I just…My bad.”
Kait got up slowly not even trying to argue.
“I’m going to bed.”
No edge.
No emotion.
Just done.
She walked past him without another look, heading upstairs like it was just another night.
Kolton stayed where he was.
Watching her go.
Then he exhaled, long and low, dragging a hand down his face.
“Slow it down, dumbass,” he muttered to himself.
ONE WEEK LATER
THANKSGIVING
The dining room was loud before everyone even made it to the table.
The girls carried trays back and forth, stealing pieces of food along the way and slapping hands when somebody tried to do the same. Somewhere behind all of it, the television played low enough that nobody was actually watching it, its canned laughter and commercials disappearing beneath half a dozen conversations.
Thanksgiving at the Nest.
By the time Kait sat down, she already had a couple of vodka shots in her and a beer waiting beside her plate. Nobody had paid much attention when she poured them.
Neither had she.
Don stood at the head of the table carving a turkey big enough to feed half of Dryden while Loraine moved around him, directing bowls and platters wherever she decided they belonged.
Kolton had taken the chair beside Kait.
He’d been doing that more lately. Sitting closer. Finding reasons to stay near her without making too much of it. He was getting better at recognizing when she didn’t want to talk, although every now and then he still tried.
He nudged the basket of rolls toward her.
“You want one?”
Kait shook her head.
“You gonna eat anything?”
“I’m eating.”
Kolton looked at the untouched food on her plate but wisely kept his mouth shut.
Around them, everyone else seemed determined to make up for her silence. Blaze was halfway through a story about a run when Kode interrupted to tell him he was full of shit. Diablo was arguing with one of the girls over who had taken the last piece of something, even though there was another full tray sitting three feet away. Kyle kept trying to get Kolton’s attention from farther down the table, and every time he did, Kolton stopped whatever he was doing to answer him.
It was loud. Crowded. Familiar.
Normal.
Kait dragged her fork through the mashed potatoes on her plate and mashed them even more.
She didn’t have much of an appetite lately. Most days she didn’t notice until somebody put food in front of her.
Alcohol was easier.
She reached for her beer.
Once everyone had settled in, Loraine looked around the table with the satisfied expression of someone who had managed to get an entire room full of people exactly where she wanted them.
“All right,” she announced. “Before everybody gets too drunk to remember what day it is, we’re doing something.”
The complaints started immediately.
“Oh, Jesus,” Don muttered.
“Shut up.” Loraine pointed at him. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
“We know what fucking day it is.”
“Okay, okay… Everybody says one thing they’re thankful for.”
That earned even more groans.
Kait cringed in her chair.
Of course they were doing this.
Loraine ignored the protests and started at her end of the table. The answers went about the way Kait expected. Family. The club. Being alive. One of the guys said he was thankful for free pussy and barely got the words out before a dinner roll hit him in the chest.
That bought another round of laughter.
Kait drank.
Eventually Loraine looked toward Kolton.
“What about you?”
Kolton leaned back in his chair.
“Fuck, I don’t know.”
“You’ve got plenty.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, thinking about it. “I guess I do.”
For once, there wasn’t a joke behind it.
“I’m out of jail. I’m clean.” He looked toward Kyle. “Got my kid. Still got my patch.”
Then his eyes moved to Kait beside him.
“And I got a second chance at some things I probably didn’t deserve one for.”
Kait stared at her plate.
She could feel him looking at her. She knew exactly what he meant, and from the other side of the table, so did Loraine.
Kolton didn’t push it. After a moment, he picked up his beer and took a drink.
Loraine’s eyes settled on Kait.
Kait glared at her hard enough to get skipped.
“Blaze?”
Kait glanced up.
Loraine was already looking farther down the table.
Kait took another drink.
The round continued without her, and she was perfectly happy to let it. By the time it made its way around the table, people had started eating again and the conversations were threatening to split off in different directions.
Don lifted his glass.
“Another thing we gotta be thankful for is Kount saving Huntsville from getting fucking disbanded.”
A few heads nodded.
Kait’s fork slowed.
There was pride in Don’s voice.
“Huntsville could not be in better hands,” he continued.
A few glasses went up around the table.
“Damn right,” Blaze said.
Mack knocked his knuckles against the wood. Diablo raised his beer toward Don before taking a drink.
Kait lifted her beer and took a long drink.
Beside her, Kolton shifted slightly. She knew he was looking at her again, but she didn’t give him anything to find.
Loraine reached for the potatoes.
“He’s going to need some help out there.”
Kait kept her eyes down.
“He’s got help,” Don said.
“I mean with the clubhouse. Those boys can rebuild it all they want, but somebody still has to keep the place running.”
Loraine spooned more potatoes onto Kyle’s plate before setting the bowl down.
“You should send Melanie.”
Kait stopped picking at her food.
Melanie looked up from setting more rolls on the table.
Loraine continued as though she’d suggested sending an extra case of beer.
“She can cook, clean, keep the clubhouse stocked. Take care of the things Lane doesn’t have time to worry about. Besides, she was his anyway. Right?”
Don considered it for all of two seconds then looked toward Melanie.
“Leave tomorrow.”
Melanie went still.
“Really?”
“You got something better to do?”
“Oh my Gosh. No.” The answer came too quickly. “No, I can go.”
She tried to hide it, but the smile was already there.
Small at first.
Then impossible to miss.
Kait saw that too.
Of course she did.
She raised the bottle to her mouth and finished what was left.
Melanie was going to live there with him.
Her stomach turned.
The empty beer bottle hit the table a little harder than she intended.
Kolton glanced over.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
She pushed her chair back.
“Where you going?”
“Getting a drink.”
Kait walked away before he could say anything else.
Behind her, Thanksgiving continued without missing a beat. Someone started talking again. Silverware scraped against plates. Kyle laughed at something. Loraine asked somebody to pass a bowl.
Kait crossed into the bar and exchanged her empty beer bottle for a full bottle of vodka.
She twisted off the cap and took a drink straight from it.
Cloud came in from the front a few minutes later, phone still in his hand, cigarette already tucked between his lips.
“Mundo’s got eyes,” he said to no one in particular. “Graciela Hernandez. Market parking lot, guess she was seen selling—”
“I’ll take it.”
Kait didn’t break stride.
Already moving.
Cloud blinked once, then followed.
Kolton pushed back from the table immediately.
“I’ll come with—”
“I got it.”
She didn’t look at him.
Didn’t slow.
“We’re taking the van,” she added, already heading for the door.
Cloud flicked his cigarette aside and jogged to catch up.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Outside, the night hit cooler.
Kait didn’t feel it.
She climbed into the passenger side without waiting.
Cloud got behind the wheel, already lighting another cigarette before he turned the key.
The engine rumbled to life.
PIT STOP
The Pit Stop sat half-lit off the highway, neon beer signs buzzing in the windows, one of the overhead lights in the lot flickering like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to stay on.
A couple trucks idled near the pumps. Someone leaned against a car by the ice machine, talking low through an open window.
Normal.
Cloud rolled the van in slow, tires crunching over gravel and oil-stained asphalt.
“There,” Kait said.
Graciela stood off to the side of the building, near the edge of the light. Mid-thirties, hair pulled back quick, hoodie too thin for the night. She had that look—tired but moving anyway. One hand resting on the roof of a car while she talked through the passenger window.
Working.
Kait saw the exchange in the way her hand moved.
Quick.
Used to it.
“Pull up.”
Cloud eased the van closer, not rushing it.
Kait was already out before it fully stopped.
Graciela didn’t clock her right away.
Too focused.
Too used to this being routine.
Kait closed the distance in a straight line.
No hesitation.
Her hand caught the back of Graciela’s hoodie and yanked her hard off the car.
“What the—”
The first hit landed before she could turn.
Sharp.
Snapped her sideways.
Graciela stumbled, hand flying up too late, balance gone.
“I’m not— I didn’t—”
Second hit.
Cleaner.
Dropped her to one knee.
The car she’d been leaning on peeled out without a word, tires squealing as it cut out of the lot.
Kait didn’t even look at it.
She grabbed Graciela by the arm and hauled her up.
“You running, bitch?” Kait said.
Low.
Flat.
Graciela shook her head fast, breath already breaking.
“No—no, I just— I’m trying to—”
Kait hit her again.
Harder.
Head snapping back.
“You fucking us over after we got you out?” she repeated.
“I was trying to make some money to pay y’all— I’ve got kids, I just—”
Kait dragged her back into the side of the building.
Concrete thudded behind her.
Didn’t slow.
Didn’t adjust.
Just kept going.
Fist.
Elbow.
Another hit to the body that folded Graciela forward, choking the air out of her.
Cloud stayed by the van.
One cigarette hanging off his lip, burning down slow.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t step in.
People were watching.
From the pumps.
From inside the store.
No one getting close.
Graciela tried to cover up, arms coming up late, body curling in on itself.
“I’ll pay— I’ll fix it— please—”
Kait grabbed her by the front of her hoodie and slammed her down to the asphalt.
The sound cracked loud in the quiet.
Graciela cried out, hands scraping useless against the ground.
Kait stepped in again.
A kick.
Then another.
Not wild.
Not sloppy.
Measured.
Graciela stopped trying to get up.
Just tried to breathe.
Kait stood over her, chest steady, eyes locked down.
“You’re fucked, bitch.”
Graciela put both hands up, shaking, blood on her lip, one eye already swelling.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”
Kait grabbed her arm and pulled her up.
Not gentle.
Not careful.
Graciela barely found her footing.
Cloud opened the back of the van.
Didn’t say a word.
They got her inside.
Door slammed shut.
Kait stood there for a second, looking at nothing.
The neon buzzed.
A truck door slammed somewhere behind her.
She turned and walked back to the passenger side.
Got in.
“Snake Eyes first, we need to grab her file.”
Cloud nodded.
Didn’t ask anything.
Didn’t look at her.
later
The van pulled into the Nest and Kait beelined it to her room.
“Kait—” Kolton called out behind her as soon as she reached the stairs.
She didn’t answer.
Didn’t slow.
“You alright?” he called, catching up a few steps behind.
Nothing.
Kolton followed anyway.
Trying to read her.
Trying to catch something.
“Kait… what happened out—”
She pushed her door open.
Went in.
Didn’t look back.
He stepped in after her.
She dropped her kutte on a chair behind her, didn’t care where it landed. Her hands were already moving—pulling at her shirt, dragging it up and off, tossing it aside like it was in the way of something urgent.
Kolton stopped just inside the door.
Watching.
Stunned.
Kait turned to him.
Eyes sharp. Focused.
“Close the door.”
No hesitation.
No softness.
He did it.
The latch clicked.
That was all it took.
She crossed the room fast.
Hands on him… Hard. Immediate. Shoving him back before he could say anything else. The back of his legs hit the bed and he dropped onto it with a short breath, more surprised than anything.
“Holy shit, babe—”
She didn’t say anything.
Didn’t give him space to say anything else.
She was already on him before Kolton had fully caught up with what was happening.
Kait shoved him back onto the bed and climbed over him, catching his face between her hands and kissing him hard. There was nothing tentative about it. No pause to see what he wanted, no nervous laughter, no easing into something they had done plenty of times.
Kolton froze for barely a second before his hands found her hips.
Then he was kissing her back.
She grabbed his hat and threw it behind her, then pulled at his shirt until he got the message and dragged it over his head. It landed somewhere beside the bed. Hers followed, and Kolton stared at her for half a heartbeat before Kait caught his jaw and brought his mouth back to hers.
“Fucking missed you, baby,” he breathed.
“Don’t talk.”
Kait kissed him again, harder this time, and pushed against him until whatever thought had been forming disappeared. Kolton stopped trying to understand what had changed. His hands moved over her back and down her sides, holding her tighter as she pressed herself against him.
He had been trying his hardest to get closer to her.
Now she was giving him everything he thought he wanted, and he wasn’t stupid enough to interrupt it with questions.
Kait was the one who set the pace. Fast. Impatient. Every time Kolton tried to slow her down, tried to turn a kiss into something softer, she pulled him right back into the urgency of it.
She didn’t want soft.
She wanted his weight and his hands on her. The scrape of his goatee against her skin. The heat building between them and the ache that came with being held too tightly.
Something physical enough to drown everything else out.
Besides, it helped that Kolton was a great lover.
Kolton caught her around the waist and rolled with her, bringing her beneath him.
For the first time since they came through the door, Kait stopped.
Their faces were inches apart.
Kolton looked down at her, breathing hard, almost like he was waiting for her to change her mind.
She didn’t.
Kait hooked a hand behind his neck and pulled him back down.
That was the greenlight he needed and he was not going to disappoint her.
The bed shifted beneath their weight as clothes disappeared onto the floor. Kait kept him close, fingers digging into his back whenever her mind threatened to wander somewhere she didn’t want it going. Kolton followed her lead without asking what any of it meant and giving her exactly what she seemed to need from him.
“Goddamn, baby,” he breathed against her neck.
Kait closed her eyes.
Kait closed her eyes.
For a while, it worked.
There was no Lane.
No Melanie going to Huntsville to jump into his bed the second she arrived.
There was only Kolton’s weight against her, his hands gripping her as he gave her exactly what she wanted, as hard and as fast as she wanted it.
Kait pulled him closer.
Lane hadn’t done anything. Not yet. Hell, they weren’t even together anymore. He could fuck with whoever he wanted, and so could she.
Somehow, that didn’t matter.
Some ugly part of her was getting back at him for something he hadn’t even done yet.
So she stopped thinking.
For a few minutes, she managed it.
But as soon as it was over, there was Lane again.
Kolton stayed close, still catching his breath, one hand resting against her side.
Kait stared at the ceiling.
Whatever she had been chasing was already gone.
“Alright…”
She slipped out from underneath him and sat on the edge of the bed.
Kolton pushed himself onto one elbow.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna get in the shower.”
She stood and looked back at him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And just like that, whatever Kolton thought had happened between them was over.
Like they’d just finished a conversation about Harleys.
The bathroom door shut behind her.
Water came on a second later.
Kolton sat there on the bed, breathing still uneven, staring at the closed door.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slow this time.
“Fuck, yes,” he muttered to himself.
Then sat there a second longer thinking about joining her but instead he just picked up his hat from the floor.
“Nah. Don’t fuck it up.”
HUNTSVILLE – NEXT MORNING
The drive to Huntsville stretched long and flat.
Diablo didn’t talk much.
Didn’t need to.
Melanie filled the silence anyway.
She’d been talking on and off since they left—about the move, about the Nest, about how fast everything had come together. About Lane.
Mostly about Lane.
Diablo let it run.
One hand on the wheel, the other resting near the window, cigarette burning slow between his fingers. He didn’t feed into it. Didn’t shut it down either.
Just drove.
By the time they pulled into the Huntsville Nest, the sun was already dropping.
The house looked different.
Same bones.
But cleaner.
Tighter.
The yard had been cleared out. Trash gone. Tools stacked with purpose instead of being left wherever they landed. Fencing already up, straight and solid where it had been uneven before.
Melanie saw Lane before the truck even fully stopped.
“Oh my God!”
She was out before Diablo killed the engine.
“Kount!”
She crossed the yard fast, no hesitation, no pause.
Threw herself into him.
Arms around his waist, holding on like she expected him to hold her juts as tight.
He didn’t.
She shrugged and loosened her grip.
“I missed you so much,” she said, breathless, words coming fast. “I’m so happy to see you. I’m gonna help you with everything, I’m gonna make this place—”
“Alright.”
Lane didn’t push her off.
Didn’t pull her in either.
Just stood there until she let go.
His hands never came up to meet her.
“Konway,” he said.
Flat.
Over her shoulder.
A man stepped up from near the porch—mid-thirties, solid build, watchful.
“The room in the back’s open,” Lane went on. “Show her the kitchen too. She’ll need supplies so have someone take her into town later.”
Melanie blinked once.
Still smiling.
Trying to keep it.
“Okay,” she said, a little softer now.
Konway nodded toward the back.
“Hey. Konway. Melanie, right?”
She nodded glancing at Lane one last time.
“This way.”
She followed, glancing back again.
Lane was already turning away.
Diablo stepped out of the truck, shutting the door with his elbow, eyes sweeping the place once.
“…damn.”
That was new.
Lane walked past him toward the fence line.
“Had to get it done.”
Diablo took a few steps forward, looking around again.
The difference was obvious if you knew what it looked like before.
Before, it had been falling apart.
Now—
It was being built.
“You weren’t kidding,” Diablo said. “Last time I was here, this place was a dump.”
Lane grabbed a post, testing it once.
“Still is but, we’re working on it.”
Diablo let out a short breath through his nose, impressed whether he said it or not.
“It’s fucking insane, man.”
Lane didn’t stop moving.
Didn’t slow down to talk about it.
Diablo watched him for a second.
Then smirked slightly.
“Looks like you’ve been busy.”
Lane finally glanced at him.
“Trying to. You eat yet?”
“You already putting her to work?”
“Nah. Let’s go to that one place.”
Diablo shrugged.
“Really?”
Lane nodded once toward the truck.
“Come on.”
The Hardline rolled into the diner lot with Slayer right behind it.
Lane backed into a space near the building and killed the engine. Diablo pulled in beside him, and they headed inside.
The place hadn’t changed much.
The hand-painted HOT HOMEMADE FOOD sign still hung on the wall.
Still lying.
Lane stepped up to the counter.
“Cheeseburger and onion rings, please.”
Diablo leaned beside him. “Chili dogs and fries for me.”
Food came out fast.
They didn’t sit.
Just leaned against the counter and ate.
Diablo took a bite, chewed, then let out a quiet breath through his nose. “…still trash.”
Lane didn’t react. Didn’t look at him. Just kept eating.
Diablo wiped his hands on a napkin that didn’t do much, then leaned back against the counter, glancing over at Lane. “So… How are you liking the new president gig?”
Lane didn’t look up right away.
“It’s fine. Not much to it, just gotta build the charter back up.”
Diablo huffed once under his breath. “Yeah, easy for you. I couldn’t do this shit.”
Lane shrugged and took another bite. “Well, it’s getting there.”
That was as close as he got.
Diablo nodded slowly, letting his eyes drift around the place again, then back to him.
Lane looked at Diablo.
“Y’all burn Dryden down yet?
“Why? ‘Cause you’re not there?”
“Shit yeah.”
“We’re handling it, okay?”
Lane only smirked.
Diablo watched him for a second, then shook his head slightly.
A few more minutes of small talk later, Diablo had had it.
“Dude… just ask about her already.”
Lane frowned. Then, took a deep breath.
“I don’t need to.”
“Bullshit.”
Lane dropped an onion ring back into the tray.
“I know exactly how she’s doing. She’s back with Prince, they’re happier than ever, and I don’t give a fuck.”
Diablo shook his head.
“You don’t know shit.”
“And I don’t want to.”
“Obviously.”
Lane went back to his burger.
Diablo took another bite before continuing.
“Prince follows her around like a fucking puppy. She couldn’t give a fuck less.”
Lane gave a humorless laugh.
“Sure.”
“I’m serious. She was helping him out for a while. Going to his therapy shit, keeping him straight, helping him get his head out of his ass. Probation classes… But that’s about it.”
Lane shrugged.
“Good for them.”
“There is no them.”
“Dude, I don’t give a shit.”
“Yeah, you do. You’re here making up your own fucking story and getting pissed off about it.”
“I said I don’t care.”
“Yeah, alright.”
Lane shot him a look.
Diablo smiled and went back to his food.
“She mostly does her own thing now. Handles business. Takes runs nobody else wants. She’s been getting shit done.”
Lane shrugged like he still didn’t care.
“Except she’s pissed off all the fucking time.”
Lane’s expression didn’t change.
Diablo watched him for a moment.
“And she’s drinking. A lot.”
Lane picked up his burger again.
Diablo let him get two bites into it.
“She beat the living shit out of a skip yesterday.”
Lane stopped chewing.
“That’s nothing new.”
Diablo watched him.
“For no reason.”
“Okay, what the fuck do you want me to say here?”
“I don’t know.” Diablo studied him for a second. “Maybe something that sounds like you and not some asshole avoiding the subject.”
Lane pushed away from the counter.
“She made her choice. She stayed with Kolton. And now I’m here and everybody’s fucking happy.”
Lane looked at him then.
“Ain’t nobody happy right now.”
“Not when you bring her up.”
Lane got up, wiped his hands with a napkin and dropped it on his plate.
“Gonna go wash my hands. You’re buying… asshole.”
DRYDEN - DON & LORAINE’S HOUSE
Kolton pulled up to Loraine’s place just after dark.
House lights were on, but the place felt quieter than it should’ve been. No TV on. No voices drifting out.
He killed the engine and swung off the bike, boots hitting the ground. The backpack was already strapped across his back—he adjusted it once, then headed up.
Didn’t knock.
Just walked in.
“Kyle—!”
His voice carried through the house.
“In here,” Loraine called back.
Kitchen.
Kolton stepped in and noticed it right away.
“Jesus… what now?”
Loraine stood by the counter, one hand resting on it, the other holding a glass she hadn’t touched. The bruise sat dark around her eye, swelling already setting in, deep enough to spread.
Fresh.
She didn’t hide it.
Didn’t cover it.
“I guess I went too far,” she said calmly. “Suggesting Melanie go to Huntsville.”
Kolton nodded once.
Like that made sense.
“Always something,” he muttered.
“Dad!”
Kolton’s face shifted just enough.
“Hey, dude.”
Kyle ran in from the hallway, a couple of Band-Aids stuck across his knee and one on his elbow.
“I fell,” he said quickly, like it mattered.
Then he held one up toward Loraine.
“Grandma fell too.”
She looked at it for a second.
Took it.
Kolton scoffed and held out Kyle’s small backpack.
Kyle grabbed it from him, already talking about something—school, a game, something small that didn’t matter right now.
“Time to go. Grab the rest of your stuff,” Kolton said, handing him the bag.
Kyle nodded and took off again.
Silence settled back in.
Kolton leaned against the counter, grabbing a beer without asking, popping it open against the edge like he’d done it a thousand times.
Took a drink.
Didn’t look at her.
Loraine watched him for a second.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
Kolton shrugged.
“Better.”
Another sip.
“Your head okay?”
He shrugged.
“Yeah.”
“How are things with Kait?”
That made him pause just slightly.
Not long.
“Good,” he said.
Simple.
“Really good, actually.”
Loraine tilted her head just a fraction, trying to figure out what he meant without asking.
Kolton smirked faintly, looking down into the bottle.
“Been getting… closer.”
That was enough.
More than enough.
Loraine didn’t press.
Didn’t need to.
“Good, I told you she would come around.”
Kyle came running back in, backpack slung over one shoulder now.
“I’m ready!”
Kolton pushed off the counter.
“Alright.”
He glanced at Loraine once.
At the shiner.
“See ya.”
She nodded.
“Ride safe.”
Kolton headed out with Kyle, door closing behind them like nothing had happened.
Loraine held up the Band-aid and almost chuckled.
“Sometimes it takes a lot more than this, sweetheart.”
the burn barrel - mercy, tx
The Barrel was loud enough to drown out thought.
A band was on stage playing something fast, ugly, and obnoxious. Bodies packed in tight, heat sticking to skin, sweat and beer and something chemical hanging in the air.
Kait stood at the bar.
No colors tonight. She was there on personal business.
Third shot already gone.
Her mind had not left her alone all day.
She overheard Melanie saying goodbye to Alejandra and Tracy that morning, saying how happy she was to go back to Lane…
Go back… as if they were ever together in the first place.
Kait made a fist and squeezed it tight.
She had been riding all day nowhere specifically, then as she reached Mercy, she remembered the guys talking about the Burn Barrel and how Lane absolutely hated it.
She raised her finger for one more shot.
Then she saw two men in kuttes in her peripheral vision.
Durst leaned in first, his short dark mohawk and heavily tattooed arms giving him a hard, mean look. His shoulder brushed hers like it wasn’t an accident.
“You lost, sweetheart?”
Kait didn’t look at him.
“No.”
Murphy slid in on the other side, taller and broader, with dirty-blond hair hanging to his shoulders and a scruffy beard. He blocked the space without making it obvious.
“Don’t see you around here,” he said, eyes dragging over her. “Where you from?”
“Just passing through.”
Durst smirked.
“Yeah?”
He stepped closer.
Close enough that she had to tilt her head just slightly to keep space.
“Don’t look like it.”
Murphy laughed under his breath.
“Looks like she’s staying.”
Kait nodded slowly.
Didn’t give ground.
Didn’t escalate.
Not yet.
Durst’s hand brushed her arm.
Lingering.
Testing.
No reaction.
Murphy took it further.
Hand coming around, grabbing her ass as if he’d already claimed her.
That was it.
A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.
She downed her last shot and moved.
No warning.
Her head snapped forward and…
CRACK.
Bone on bone.
Murphy’s face folded instantly, blood bursting from his nose as he staggered back with a choked sound.
At the same time her elbow drove back into Durst’s face—sharp, precise, catching him high on the cheekbone and snapping his head sideways.
Silence broke for half a second.
Then the room shifted.
“What the fuck—”
Kait was already gone.
She shoved through the bodies in front of her, not slowing, not looking back. Someone stumbled. Someone shouted. Music kept blasting like nothing changed.
Door.
Cold air hit her hard.
She didn’t stop.
Boots pounding behind her now.
“Fucking bitch—!”
Good.
Kait hit the bike in one clean motion, keys already in her hand. The Kriger roared to life like it had been waiting for it.
Durst and Murphy burst out seconds later.
“Fuck, I knew it. It’s the snake bitch. I knew she looked familiar,” said Murphy. His face was already covered in blood, one hand clamped over his nose, the other reaching out like he could still grab her.
Durst didn’t slow.
Didn’t call out to anyone else.
Didn’t look back.
They were coming.
Just them.
Exactly what she wanted.
Kait kicked the bike into gear and took off hard, tires spitting gravel as she cut out of the lot.
They ran for their bikes behind her.
Engines turning over.
Too late.
She was already gone.
