Page 11 of Desert Loyalties

MANDRAKE

I’m walking the halls like a caged fuckin’ animal. Can’t sit, can’t breathe, sure as hell can’t think. My fists are clenched so tight my knuckles are bone-white, and I keep picturing her in that damn room, alone.

Ranger calls me into his office.

“Brother,” he says, calm as ever, “you need to chill the fuck out.”

I laugh. Bitter. Sharp. “How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when I just dropped my old lady in the middle of a damn trap like she’s fuckin’ bait?”

“It was her plan,” he reminds me.

“That doesn’t make it better.”

He nods like he gets it, but his face doesn’t change. That dead-serious calm he always wears. “We’ve got her on camera. One sign of trouble, we storm in. You know that.”

I don’t respond. I’m not thinking straight. Every second she’s in that room; I’m fighting the urge to rip the door off its hinges and pull her out. But if I do that, if I cave, we lose everything. And the rat wins.

The door creaks open and Grim walks in.

Big bastard. Nearly seven feet tall, all broad shoulders and a stare that could freeze lava. Still moves like a soldier, even after everything. Too quiet for my liking, but I trust him more than half the men here.

He’s new, technically. Only been patched in a year. But blood matters in this life, and he's Ranger’s blood. Half-brother, same asshole dad, different women. Grim’s mom was a Russian exchange student. Ranger’s old man was fuckin’ her on the side, of course. Classic.

Ranger’s mom found out, pulled some strings, and had her sent back to Moscow before anyone even knew she was pregnant. Cold move. Can’t really blame her though.

Grim grew up in Russia. Was a goddamn soldier over there, Spetsnaz or something nastier.

Two years ago, he showed up at our gates, bleeding and broken, looked like death dragged him across five continents.

Didn’t speak more than five words of English.

Now he speaks better, but the accent’s thick.

Even asking for coffee sounds like a threat from his lips.

He gives me a look.

“You’re pacing holes in the floor,” he says in that deep, slow voice. “And making more noise than engine with no oil.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll go make some holes in someone’s face instead,” I growl.

Grim just shrugs, unfazed. “Then you will miss the trap. Bad idea. Stay calm. Breathe.”

My jaw ticks. I shoot a glare at Ranger. “How the fuck does he know about the trap?”

Ranger just shrugs, cool as ever, like this is all fine and normal.

Grim folds his arms across his massive chest. “Skye is my friend. I know she didn’t do this. I also know she’s your old lady now. So...”

I narrow my eyes. “You think the other brothers know?”

He shakes his head. “Skye was teaching me English. I was teaching her Russian. Pretty sure most of them thought we were fuckin’.”

That hits wrong. My fists clench before I even realize it.

“I knew she was teaching you,” I growl.

He rolls his eyes. “Stop giving me glare. She’s my friend. Like the sister I never wanted.”

I believe him, almost. Until he says, “You two need to leave.”

My blood spikes. I take a step forward, fists ready. I’m two seconds from putting him through the fuckin’ drywall when Ranger cuts in. “ Stop. Listen to him.”

I huff, biting back the punch itching in my knuckles.

Grim doesn’t flinch. He holds my gaze, dead steady. “Everyone knows you’ve got thing for her. And no one’s stupid enough to make a move while you’re pacing the clubhouse like bull.”

He pauses, tone even. “So, make an excuse. Leave but stay close. I’ll be here.”

Then he looks me dead in the eyes. No bravado. No bullshit. Just solid truth.

“You’re my brother. She’s your old lady. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Something in my chest unclenches, just a little.

I nod, once. Still don’t like it. Still want to stay close enough to hear her breathe. But I trust Grim. Or I need to trust someone, and right now, he’s the best shot I’ve got.

“Fine,” I mutter. “But if anything feels off, anyone—”

Grim cuts in. “I’ll gut them myself.”

I hate this.

Every step away from her feels like betrayal. Like I’m leaving her in the jaws of something I can’t see coming.

But we need the rat to show their teeth. And if I stay close, if I hover like I want to, nobody will make a move. Not with me around. I’ve made that perfectly fuckin’ clear.

Ranger and I walk down the hallway, boots heavy against the wood, pausing at the main table where a few of the brothers are lounging. Caine’s got a beer in his hand, shooting the shit with Bullet and Stitch. They barely glance up until we stop walking.

I clear my throat.

“Ranger and I gotta make a run, some paperwork to deal with,” I say, voice flat.

Ranger backs me up without missing a beat. “Just a few hours, we’ll be back soon.”

Bullet raises an eyebrow. “Today?”

“You wanna loose a 200 grand deposit,” Ranger says, his tone just sharp enough to shut it down. “And before anyone gets smart, basement’s off-limits.”

I look around the table, locking eyes with each of them. “Seriously. Don’t go near it. That door stays closed.”

Stitch shifts in his seat. “What about food and shit?”

“Let her starve,” Ranger snaps. “You wanna keep your patch, respect the order.”

Silence. Good.

The basement isn’t hidden. Just another door at the end of the hallway, tucked beneath the main stairwell. Easy to forget. Easy to slip through if no one’s watching close enough. Which is exactly what we’re counting on.

We leave through the front. Letting the door slam behind us.

Ranger and I mount up, engines growling beneath us. I rev mine a little harder than necessary, the vibrations grounding me for half a second. We peel out, tires spitting gravel, just long enough to make ‘em believe we’re gone.

We don’t go far.

Just a few miles up the road, we pull into a diner that looks like it hasn’t changed since 1982. It’s so close to the clubhouse that I’ve never been here before, it’s perfect to lay low in. No one asks questions in places like this.

The sun’s beating down on us, so we head inside, taking a booth by the window. I sit with my back to the door. Ranger across from me.

He signals the waitress with a nod. “Full breakfast. Eggs, sausage, extra toast. And black coffee.”

I barely glance at her. “Just coffee.”

She gives me a tight smile and leaves.

I pull my phone out, lay it on the table, and open the hidden feed. Grainy footage flickers to life, black and white, timestamped. The basement door is still closed. In the room, Skye is doing… push ups? I chuckle, this woman.

I made sure she ate before we rolled into the clubhouse.

Made her drink a gallon of water too. She fought me on it, of course she did, but I didn’t bend.

Couldn’t. If she’s gonna be locked in a furnace while we wait for a traitor to strike, she’s going in prepared.

If the traitor doesn’t strike soon, I’m sneaking down there with snacks.

Ranger watches me for a minute, then leans back with that unreadable expression of his.

“You really love her, huh?”

I don’t look at him. Just say, low and even, “She’s mine.”

He hums. Doesn’t push. Just sips his coffee when it comes, then says, “She know about your past?”

I take a beat. Then another. Still watching the screen.

“She knows enough.”

Ranger nods slow, lets the silence stretch before he speaks again.

“You know what needs to happen for her patch-in, right?”

That gets my attention.

I look at him now. He’s not smiling. Not grinning. Just serious.

“In the Horsemen, our old ladies aren’t just window dressing,” he says. “We don’t slap a patch on any chick who can hang onto a seat and drink with the boys. They’re honorary members . Which means they go through a version of what we do. More than that, they have to have skin in the game.’”

I nod. I know about the Ceremony, vaguely. Only the Prez and the brother bringing in an old lady know the full details.

“To get in, they have to either,” he holds up one finger, “commit a crime in front of the brothers, like we did for our patch.”

Another finger. “Or confess to a crime they already committed. On tape.”

Then a third, and this time he winces. “The last one... they can get in if they have to fuck all of the brothers. In one night.”

I stare at him. What the fuck.

I get the first two. But the third? All of them? In one night?

There are over fifty permanent members in our club. More if you count the nomads that drift in and out.

“Has anyone ever tried the third?” I ask, my voice low.

“No,” Ranger says, chuckling. “Because of the other stipulation.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What stipulation?”

He grins. “The brother bringing her in has to do the same.”

I bark out a laugh. “Yeah. That’ll do it.”

“It’s not just about the act,” he says, tone serious again. “It’s about what it means . You’re not just bringing her into your bed. You’re bringing her into us. She gets seen by all of us. And so do you.”

I stay quiet. I didn’t know this part.

No wonder none of the wives ever chose to become old ladies. Who the hell would risk their freedom just to get patched into something that, for them, is basically a normal club?

They don’t ride. Don’t get a vote in club business. And they’d have to live surrounded by naked women their old man’s already fucked.

Sure, there are benefits, they get respect, protection, a name that means something.

But are they really worth the cost?

Ranger takes another sip of his coffee, like we’re just talking business.

I lean back a little, eyes still on him. “You think that’s why we don’t have old ladies anymore? I mean... back then, tech wasn’t like it is now. No clouds, no digital footprints. Would you risk your freedom by confessing something on tape? Something that could get hacked or seized in a raid?”

I look down at the security feed. She’s sitting on the cot now, still safe. Still mine.

Then I say what none of the others before me have had the balls to admit.

“I want Skye to be my old lady. But I’m not risking her neck to make it happen.” Not for a patch. Not for tradition. Not even for the club.

I don’t say anything more because Ranger gets it. Gets what I’m saying, I’ll leave the club before I let her go.

I pray like hell she doesn’t fight me on it, doesn’t try to sacrifice herself for me. Because if she does, I will throw her over my shoulder and take her away. Maybe to some cabin deep in the forest. Somewhere no one could touch her.

I could keep her there until she understands.

Until she gets it. Until she agrees.

Because if she doesn’t...

I’d hate like hell to have to lock her up for real.