Page 18 of Property of Blade (Kings of Anarchy MC: Alaska #1)
A smile spreads across her face, and I feel my chest warm at the sight of it. “I’d like that.”
Leaning in, I softly kiss her forehead, then her cheek, letting the moment linger before pressing a brief, gentle kiss to her lips. The heat of it lingers on my skin as I step back, a groan slipping from my throat.
“See you tomorrow.”
Hannah doesn’t move. As I leave, my gaze lands on my knife. I pick it up and hold it in the air.
“I’ll make you a smaller one so you can carve anything you want.”
Hannah nods, a smile on her face. I want so much to make her mine, but she needs time, and I’m going to give it to her.
T he air is crisp in the woods, biting at my skin as I look up at the sky. The stars are scattered across the dark canvas, distant and cold, a reminder of how small I am in the grand scheme of things.
I’ve been standing here for what seems like an eternity, trying to clear my head and make sense of things, but the more I think, the more everything blurs together.
Hannah .
She’s been on my mind since the moment I found her on the side of the road, and no matter how hard I try to push her away, I can’t stop thinking about her.
“You’re out here alone, Prez?” Prophet’s voice breaks through the silence, his footsteps soft on the ground behind me.
At first, I say nothing but keep my eyes locked on the stars. He knows when I need to talk and when I don’t.
Prophet steps up beside me, his eyes scanning the woods before settling on the same patch of sky.
I’ve been through hell with him—seen him fall and rise again in ways that would break most people.
But he’s also one of the few people I trust with my life and the kind of person who knows when to give me space and when to pull me back from the edge.
“I had a vision,” Prophet says quietly, his voice carrying that weight it always does when something important is coming.
Shifting my stance, I look over at him. “What kind of vision?”
Prophet tilts his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Hannah’s trouble. But she’s also the only one who can save you from yourself, Blade.”
The words slam into me, a punch straight to the gut. I open my mouth to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but Prophet holds up a hand to stop me.
“She’s a fire, man. She’ll burn you if you let her. But that’s the thing... she’s also the one who can help you burn away the shit that’s been eating you alive for years. You need to show her who you really are. All of you. The good, the bad... everything .”
Prophet’s not just a chaplain in the MC, he’s a brother and confidant. The kind of person who’s seen the darkest parts of me and never turned away. Hell, he’s probably been through worse himself, considering his past.
Running a hand through my hair, I try to make sense of the words he’s just dropped on me. “And you think I’m supposed to open up to her? Let her see all of this... all of me?”
“Yeah,” Prophet replies, his tone steady.
“Because that’s the only way this works.
You think you can keep hiding, keep pretending, but she sees through it.
She sees you, Blade. The real you. And if you don’t show her the truth, you’re just gonna end up pushing her away, and when that happens, it’ll be you who loses. ”
The weight of his words sinks in, and for a moment, I feel as if I’m standing on the edge of something too big to comprehend. Prophet has been right about a lot of things, even when I didn’t want to hear it, but this feels different.
“What if she runs?”
He shrugs. “She won’t.”
I frown, not convinced. “Did you see that?”
Prophet chuckles, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know that’s not how it works.”
The silence stretches out as we both stare up at the sky.
“Do you miss it?” I ask.
Prophet takes a moment before answering. “Yes,” he admits, his voice distant for just a second. “And no. This place, the people, this life... it’s amazing. I’m constantly surprised by those around me, including Rooster.”
A laugh escapes me. “Even Rooster? Man, that’s progress.”
Prophet’s half-smile grows into something more. “I think so.”
We share a moment of quiet, the bond of our friendship settling between us. But then Prophet shifts gears, his expression turning more serious as he looks at me.
“And speaking of him,” he says, his voice low, “He’s back with a progress report on the homesteader.”
My mind clicks into gear. “The one you were concerned about?”
“Yeah.” Prophet’s eyes narrow slightly, the tension creeping back into his posture. “Rooster’s got news. It could be bigger than we thought.”
I raise an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. “Are they at the clubhouse?”
“Yeah,” Prophet replies. “I’m meeting him there, and he called in the rest of the MC.”
“Without talking to me first?”
“You got your phone?”
Patting my pockets, I say, “I guess not.” Then I grin, the competitive side of me flaring up. “Race you there.”
Prophet looks at me, an amused glint in his eyes. “You can’t beat me.”
I smirk, not backing down. “Maybe not. But I can try.”