Page 26 of Property of Thrasher (Kings of Anarchy MC: South Carolina #1)

MELODY

I fell asleep crying. That wasn’t unusual for me, not really.

It had been a thing back home. Nights in this place had a way of digging under my skin sometimes too.

And the way I was, once I started crying I couldn’t stop easily which only made me angry and continued the tears.

But tonight felt different. My chest hurt like someone had planted a boot square in the middle of it.

My eyes burned, swollen from too many tears and too many ugly thoughts I couldn’t shut off.

Maria.

Her name was a knife. I had never once cared what she did, how she laughed too loud at club parties, how she wrapped herself around any man who gave her a glance, or how she swayed her hips like every song was played just for her.

But tonight, the second I pictured her with Thrasher, my stomach turned inside out.

I hated that. Hated that I gave a damn. Hated that my heart had started building little castles around him, painting him in colors that weren’t meant for me. I had told myself from the beginning not to fall. He wasn’t the kind of man a girl like me could ever keep.

Still, that didn’t stop the tears. Didn’t stop me from pressing my face into the pillow, muffling sobs until exhaustion claimed me. I’d sent that stupid text and then hurled my phone across the room like the devil himself lived inside it.

Coward. That’s what I was. I couldn’t face him, couldn’t look him in the eye and risk him confirming my worst fear—that Maria was with him too and I never could be enough on my own.

So I cried, and I cried until darkness won.

A dip in the mattress jolted me awake.

My mind hadn’t yet untangled from the fog of restless dreams when the heat of another body pressed into mine. The scent hit me next—leather, smoke, and the faint musk that always clung to Thrasher.

My eyes flew open, panic rushing in fast and ugly.

Before I thought, before I breathed, my hand lashed out. The crack of my palm across skin echoed in the dark.

“Jesus—” his voice growled low.

I screamed, scrambling back against the headboard, clutching at the thin blanket as if it could shield me. My pulse pounded in my ears, my throat raw from the sound that tore out of me.

“Melody,” he said, sharper this time, the rasp of command laced through my name. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist—not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground me. “It’s me. Calm down.”

I blinked at him, heart racing, chest heaving. The shadows shifted with the moonlight bleeding in from the blinds, outlining his features. His jaw tight, his eyes burning, his hair damp like he’d run water over it before coming here.

Enzo.

Relief slammed into me, tangled with confusion and leftover fear. And if I’m honest, heartbreak.

“You scared me half to death,” I whispered, voice breaking.

“Yeah? You scared the shit outta me, swingin’ like that.” He released my wrist slowly, like easing off a trigger.

I dragged the back of my hand across my face, suddenly aware of how blotchy and swollen I must look. He saw it too—his gaze softened, even if his tone didn’t.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that text was about?” he asked.

My stomach dropped.

He leaned back on his side of the bed, propped up on an elbow like he had every right to be here. Like this was normal. Like sliding into my bed in the dead of night was just another Tuesday.

“I got your message when church wrapped up,” he continued, eyes locked on mine.

“I was coming back tonight, planning to finish up my business and return to you. Instead, I get that. ‘This doesn’t work. Thanks.’” He repeated it like each word tasted bitter.

“So you gonna explain to me how I left a satisfied woman after dinner, only to get dumped before I hit the road back?”

Heat crept up my neck, shame twisting me in knots.

“I—” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat. “I shouldn’t have sent it.”

“No shit. But why?”

The sharpness in his tone sliced at me, but I couldn’t blame him.

He studied me, not moving, not blinking. Just waiting.

The silence stretched until I couldn’t take it anymore. My defenses crumbled under the weight of his stare, the memories of his touch, the echo of laughter I hadn’t heard in myself for years until he dragged it out of me.

“I thought—” My words faltered. “I thought you dropped me off so Maria could come to the clubhouse for you.”

His brow furrowed. “That’s what you think of me?”

I swallowed hard. “Maria was?—”

“Maria?” His voice snapped like a whip.

I flinched, but forced myself to continue. “She was hanging around. Everyone knows she… you know. She doesn’t hide it. She said now that I was home it was her turn.”

He let out a harsh laugh, one that held no humor. “You crying your eyes out ‘cause of Maria? That’s what this is?”

I hated how small I felt, sitting there with tears threatening again, with my hands twisting the blanket in my lap like a lifeline.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” I whispered.

“And what? You figured I was dumb enough to fuck her after leaving you?” His eyes flashed.

I pressed my lips together, fighting the tears. I wanted to tell him no, that I didn’t think that of him. But the truth was uglier—I didn’t think I was enough to stop a man like him from wandering.

“Answer me, Melody.”

“I don’t know what to think,” I admitted, the words spilling out like poison I couldn’t hold anymore. “I’ve never… I’ve never had someone like you. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to believe it’s real.”

The tension in his shoulders shifted, the sharpness in his eyes softening by a fraction. He exhaled through his nose, running a hand over his face like he was trying to pull himself back from the edge.

“I didn’t touch anyone since you,” he said finally, voice low, steady. “I won’t. Not when I’ve got you. I don’t share, you made it clear neither do you. That’s our line. I’m with it.”

My throat tightened, fresh tears sliding down before I could stop them.

“Fuck, Melody.” His hand reached out, thumb brushing over my damp cheek. “You think I’d waste my time with anyone else after what we’re building?”

I shivered under his touch, torn between wanting to believe and fearing I’d fall too far.

He leaned in, his forehead pressing gently to mine. The contact unraveled something inside me, left me raw and trembling.

“You don’t get to run from this with a text,” he murmured. “You want out, you say it to my face. You give me that respect. Don’t hide behind a damn screen.”

“I was scared,” I whispered.

“I know.” His breath warmed my skin. “But you’re mine now. You don’t need to be scared of bullshit like Maria. You hear me?”

I nodded, a shaky exhale leaving me.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Say it.”

“I hear you.”

His mouth hovered close, his breath mingling with mine, but he didn’t kiss me. Not yet.

Instead, he pulled me into his chest, wrapping me in an embrace that was more anchor than cage. His hand smoothed down my back, slow and steady, like he was taming a storm inside me.

For the first time all night, my tears didn’t feel so heavy.

The clock ticked on. Minutes, maybe hours passed—I couldn’t tell. Thrasher didn’t push me, didn’t demand more than I could give. He just held me while the remnants of fear and doubt bled out of me.

Eventually, my breathing steadied. The silence no longer suffocated.

“Why’d you come here?” I asked softly, cheek pressed to his chest.

“Because you’re mine,” he said simply. “And because I’m not lettin’ you walk away over some bullshit from a bunny or because you got up in your head about some shit. Been around the block, baby, don’t say that to upset you, but women get in snits sometimes, doesn’t mean it’s all tossed out.”

I thought of the text, the finality of it, the cowardice behind it. Shame burned in me again.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“You will be,” he muttered, but there was no bite in it. “You do this again, I’m gonna redden your ass and make you beg for me.”

Despite myself, a small laugh broke through. He caught it, and I felt the rumble of his answering chuckle against my cheek.

The tension dissolved, replaced by something fragile and precious.

I let myself sink into it.

For once, I didn’t fight.

His arms stayed wrapped around me, steady and strong, like he was holding the pieces of me together so I wouldn’t scatter again.

“You listen to me, Melody,” he said, voice low, vibrating through his chest into my bones. “If I have to, I’ll stand on the damn table at church and tell every single brother you’re my old lady. The bunnies are gonna know too. That’s how serious I am about this. About you.”

I froze, my breath catching.

Old lady.

It was a title I’d heard tossed around the clubhouse with a mix of respect and edge, heavy with meaning. It wasn’t just a girlfriend, not just a fling—it was permanence, protection, belonging.

“You don’t have to?—”

“Yes, I do,” he cut in, pulling back enough to tilt my chin up so I couldn’t look anywhere but into his eyes. “Because you don’t get it yet. You’re mine. And I don’t give a damn who knows it.”

A shiver rippled through me, part fear, part relief, part something that made my stomach twist in ways I couldn’t name.

“And Maria?”

His mouth curved into something darker, dangerous. “She won’t be near you again. She crossed a line, and she knew better. Confrontin’ you? Making you doubt me? That shit doesn’t fly. She’s done. Out of the club, out of the hotel. She can take her games somewhere else.”

My eyes widened. “You’d fire her? Just like that?”

“Damn right.” His tone left no room for argument. “I protect what’s mine. She made herself a problem the second she came at you. I don’t let problems linger. She knows the deal. She doesn’t ever approach an old lady. She did. She’s out.”

The fierceness in his voice should have scared me, but it didn’t. It steadied me.

My fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt, holding on like he was the only solid thing in a spinning world. “Why me, Enzo? Out of everyone… why me?”

His gaze softened, but it burned just as deep. “Because you’re real. Because when you look at me, you don’t see the cut, or the reputation, or the shit I’ve done. You see me. And no one else ever has.”

The words sank into me, heavy and healing.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine—soft, deliberate, nothing like the rough demand I’d expected. I melted, the fight leaving me.

His hands slid over me, not rushed, not greedy, just steady. Like he was proving every word he’d just said.

By the time he laid me back against the pillows, my body trembled with something that had nothing to do with fear.

I didn’t need to question anymore. I didn’t need to doubt. He was here. He was mine.

And when his mouth claimed mine again, I let go of everything else.

He moved slow, unhurried, like we had all the time in the world. Every kiss, every brush of his hands over my skin, stripped away the pain of earlier, replacing it with something warm and consuming.

I’d thought he’d be rough, that the fire in him would burn me down. Instead, he was careful, steady, his touch gentle.

When I gasped his name, he hushed me with a kiss, whispering against my lips, “I’ve got you, Mel. Always.”

The world narrowed down to just us—the sound of his breathing, the weight of his body, the way he held me like I was precious.

It wasn’t about proving anything, or taking, or claiming. It was about giving. About showing me I didn’t need to cry myself to sleep anymore.

By the end, when I was curled against him, spent and shaking, I realized I found my place. My home was right here with him. It all simply felt like home.

I must have drifted, because the next thing I knew, his voice was in my ear again, gravelly but soft.

“You don’t ever doubt me again, you hear?”

I nodded against his chest.

“I’ll handle Maria tomorrow. She’s gone. And if I gotta carve it into the walls of the clubhouse to make you believe, I will. You’re mine, Melody Holton. My old lady.”

Tears pricked my eyes again, but this time they weren’t from pain. They were from something deeper, something I hadn’t let myself hope for.

I pressed closer, whispering the only truth I had left. “I hear you.”

His arm tightened around me, pulling me into the safest place I’d ever been.

And for the first time in a long time, I fell asleep without worries.