ONE
ROGUE
FIVE YEARS AGO
The sight of her hits me like a freight train. I've seen plenty of beautiful women in my time, but this one... she’s different. Soft brown curls frame a delicate face, her eyes wide and innocent as she glances nervously around the bar. She’s clearly out of her element; a fragile flower in a den of wolves.
I knock back the rest of my whiskey, the burn in my throat nothing compared to the heat building in my chest. What the hell is a girl like that doing in a place like this?
"Rogue!" Storm's booming voice cuts through my thoughts. "We’ve got business to discuss, brother."
I tear my gaze away from the girl and nod at my president. "Yeah, I'm coming."
As I stand, I catch her gaze. For a moment, time seems to stand still. Then I watch as she blushes and quickly glances away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
I can't help but smirk as I make my way over to Storm and the rest of the boys. That shy little glance, it's got me more intrigued than I care to admit. But business comes first—always has, always will.
"What's the word, Prez?" I ask, sliding into the booth beside Sniper.
Storm leans in, his voice low. "Got word from our contact in the police department. Looks like the Shadow Hawks are moving in on our territory. They're pushing product on the south side."
A growl rumbles in my chest. The Hawks have been a thorn in our side for years, but this... this is a declaration of war.
"What's the play?" Ghost asks, his fingers drumming restlessly on the tabletop. Ghost has been my best friend since we were kids. Both of us grew up in this world of crime, motorbikes, and loyalty. We know the ins and outs of the club because we learned it from our fathers. Ghost’s old man is the president, and Ghost is now Vice President. When Storm hangs up the gavel, I know Ghost will make a great president, just like his dad and his grandfather before him.
Storm's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint in them. "We send a message. Let 'em know what happens when you fuck with the Saints."
I nod, already feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. This is what I live for—the thrill, the danger, the brotherhood. But as I listen to Storm lay out the plan, I can't help but let my gaze wander back to the girl at the bar.
She's nursing a fruity cocktail now, her slender fingers wrapped around the glass. There's something about her that calls to me; a softness that's so at odds with my world of violence and chaos.
"Rogue." Storm's sharp tone snaps me back to attention. "You with us, brother?"
I force myself to focus, pushing thoughts of the girl aside. "Yeah, I'm in. Let's show these Shadow Hawk bastards who they're dealing with."
As we finalize the details ready for tomorrow, I can't shake the feeling that something's about to change. Whether it's this brewing war with the Hawks or the mysterious girl at the bar, I don't know. But one thing's for sure—life in the Saint's Outlaws MC is never dull.
The meeting wraps up, and I find myself drifting back to the bar, my eyes searching for the girl. But she's gone. Disappointment settles in my gut, heavier than I'd like to admit.
"Another whiskey," I growl at the bartender, trying to shake off this unexpected feeling.
As I wait for my drink, I feel a presence beside me. It's Ghost, and his eyebrow is raised in that knowing way of his.
"What's got you so distracted, brother?" he asks quietly, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. "Just thinking about the Hawks. This could get messy."
Ghost's eyes narrow, he’s not buying it. He's known me too long. "Bullshit. You were eyeing that girl all night. The shy one with the curls."
I don't respond, but I know my silence is answer enough.
Ghost sighs and claps me on the shoulder. "Be careful, Rogue. Girls like that... they don't belong in our world."
I know he's right. Hell, I've lived by that rule my entire life. However, there’s something about her I just can’t shake.
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, before downing my whiskey in one go. "I know the drill."
Ghost gives me one last look before heading back to the others. I'm about to call it a night, when I spot something on the bar—a small, leather-bound notebook.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I flip it open. Inside, I find class schedules, lesson plans, and notes about child development. But it's the name scrawled on the inside cover that catches my attention: Willow Bennett.
Willow... Even her name is soft and delicate.
I should leave it here. Let the bartender deal with it. But before I know it, I'm pocketing the notebook, already forming a plan to return it to its owner.
As I head out into the dark night, I can't help but feel like I'm crossing a line. But for the first time in years, I find myself not giving a damn about the consequences.
Little do I know, this small act is about to set in motion a chain of events that will change everything. The war with the Hawks, the delicate balance of power in our little corner of the world, and my own carefully constructed life—it's all about to be turned upside down. And it all starts with a shy smile and a forgotten notebook.
The ride back to the clubhouse is a blur, my mind caught between thoughts of the impending conflict with the Shadow Hawks and the mysterious Willow. The leather-bound notebook feels like it's burning a hole in my cut—a tangible reminder of the line I'm about to cross.
As I pull into the compound, the familiar sight of bikes lined up and the raucous laughter spilling from the clubhouse should set me at ease. But tonight, it all feels different. Off-kilter.
I park my Harley and make my way inside, nodding to the prospects manning the bar. The main room is alive with activity—brothers drinking and laughing; a few crow eaters vying for attention. It's a scene I've been a part of countless times, but tonight, I feel like an outsider looking in.
"Rogue!" Hades calls out, raising his beer in greeting. "Come join us, brother. We're celebrating Savage's birthday."
I force a grin and make my way over to the group. "Happy birthday, man," I say, clapping Savage on the back. "Let me grab a beer, and I'll be right with you."
As I head to the bar, I feel someone’s eyes on me. Turning, I see Ghost by the door, watching me. I’m not surprised he followed me home. I ignore his stare and grab a beer from the prospect and take a long pull, trying to shake off this strange feeling.
"You good?" Ghost asks, sidling up next to me.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The notebook in my cut feels heavier by the second.
Ghost leans in, his voice low. "Look, I know that girl got under your skin, but you gotta focus, brother. This thing with the Hawks... it's gonna get ugly. We need you sharp."
"I know," I growl, frustration seeping into my tone. "I've got my head in the game. Don't worry about me."
Ghost holds my gaze a moment longer, his blue eyes gleaming with the will to challenge me, to question my state of mind, but he thinks better of it and looks away, nodding.. "Alright. Just remember who you are, Rogue. What this cut means."
As he walks away, his words echo in my head. Who am I? For as long as I can remember, I've been Rogue—the enforcer, the protector, the brother who can be counted on when things get rough. Now, for the first time in years, I'm questioning if that's all there is to me.
I excuse myself from the party, claiming a headache. In the privacy of my room, I pull out Willow's notebook. My fingers trace over her name, and I find myself wondering about her. What's her story? What kind of life does she lead, so far removed from the chaos of my world?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull out my burner phone and dial a number. "Yeah?" a gruff voice on the other end says.
"Bones, it's Rogue. I need you to run a name for me. Off the books."
There's a pause on the other end of the line. Bones is our tech guy, capable of digging up dirt on anyone. But he knows a request like this, especially off the books, is unusual.
"Alright," he says finally. "What's the name?"
"Willow Bennett," I reply, my voice low even though I'm alone in my room.
I hear the clacking of the keyboard as Bones gets to work. "It’s gonna take a bit of time. I'll call you back when I've got something."
"Thanks, brother," I say, and end the call.
I toss the phone on my bed and run a hand through my hair. What the hell am I doing? This girl, this Willow, she's nothing to me; just a pretty face in a bar. Yet, something about her has gotten under my skin in a way I can't explain.
I try to distract myself by cleaning my guns. It’s a task that usually calms my mind, but tonight it does little to quiet my storm of thoughts. By the time my phone buzzes, an hour later, I'm wound tight as a spring.
"Talk to me," I growl into the phone.
"Willow Bennett," Bones starts, his voice all business. "Nineteen years old. Student at Oakridge University, majoring in Education. Works part-time at a local daycare. Clean record, not so much as a parking ticket."
I absorb the information, trying to piece together a picture of her life. It's as far from my world as you can get.
"Anything else?" I ask, knowing there's more. Bones is thorough.
There's a pause which is quickly followed by a sigh. "Yeah, there's one more thing. She's been seen with Lochlann. Nothing too nefarious, just images of them together."
The information hits me like a punch to the gut. Of all the complications, I never saw this coming. Lochlann is the son of the president of the Shadow Hawks. Fuck. This could be a set up.
"You sure about this?" I ask, my mind already racing with the implications.
"Positive," Bones confirms. "I’ve got surveillance photos and everything."
I thank him and end the call, my head spinning. Willow, the girl who's been occupying my thoughts, has a direct connection to our enemies. It's the kind of coincidence that sets off alarm bells in our world. Is she playing me?
Part of me wants to wash my hands of the whole thing. Return the notebook anonymously and forget I ever saw her. But another part, doesn’t want to. I want to see her again.
I stand up, pocketing the notebook, and grab my keys. I need to clear my head, and there's only one way I know how.
As I fire up my Harley and peel out of the compound, I feel the eyes of my brothers on me. They know something's off but none of them dare to ask.
The night air whips against my face as I push my bike to its limits, tearing down empty back roads. My mind races faster than my motorcycle, trying to make sense of this mess I've found myself in.
Willow Bennett... The name echoes in my head like a siren's call I can't ignore. But now I know she has a connection to the Shadow Hawks, everything's changed. What seemed like a chance encounter now reeks of a potential set-up.
I park my bike on a cliff that overlooks the city and light up a cigarette. The glittering lights below seem to mock me, reminding me of the stark divide between my world and Willow's.
The memory of her shy smile and innocent eyes makes it hard to believe, but I've been fooled before. In this life, trust is a luxury we can rarely afford.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Ghost.
"Where the hell are you, brother?" he asks before I can say anything. His voice is tense, worried.
I take a long drag of my cigarette before answering. "Needed to clear my head. What's up?"
"Prez has called an emergency meeting. You need to get your ass back here. Now."
The urgency in his tone sets me on edge. "What's going on?"
"The Hawks made a move. They hit one of our shipments. It's bad, Rogue."
"Fuck," I growl, already moving toward my bike. "I'm on my way."
As I race back to the clubhouse, my mind goes into overdrive. Is this connected to Willow somehow? Did I inadvertently tip our hand by asking Bones to dig into her background?
I push the thoughts aside as I pull into the compound. Now is not the time for distractions. The club needs Rogue—the enforcer, the protector. The man who gets shit done.
The clubhouse is a hive of activity when I walk in. Storm's face is thunderous; his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table everyone’s gathered around.
"Nice of you to join us," he growls as I take my seat.
I ignore the jab, focusing on the matter at hand. "What happened?"
Storm lays it out for us. The Hawks hit our shipment hard. It's a bold move.
As Storm outlines our response, I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline. This is what I'm good at—planning, strategizing, bringing the pain to those who cross us.
But even as I throw myself into the discussion, a part of my mind keeps drifting back to Willow. The timing of this attack, right after I asked Bones to dig into her background, seems too convenient to be coincidence.
"Rogue, you'll lead the strike." Storm's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Hit 'em hard, hit 'em fast. Show these bastards what happens when you fuck with the Saints."
I nod, pushing thoughts of Willow aside. "Consider it done, Prez. They won't know what hit 'em."
The meeting wraps up, and the clubhouse erupts into a flurry of activity as we prepare for war. I'm checking my weapons when Ghost approaches me.
"You seemed distracted in there," he says, his brow raised. "This about that girl?"
I hesitate for a moment, before deciding to come clean. "Her name's Willow Bennett. And she's been seen with Lochlann from the Hawks."
Ghost's eyes widen. "Shit. Do you think this is connected?"
"I don't know," I admit. "But the timing's suspicious as hell."
He nods, processing the information. "What are you gonna do?"
I holster my gun, my jaw set. "I'm gonna do my job. Lead this strike and make the Hawks regret the day they crossed us. But after..." I pause, weighing my words carefully. "After, I need to find out if Willow's involved in this mess."
Ghost looks like he wants to argue, but he knows me well enough to recognize the determination in my eyes. "Be careful, brother. This could get messy."
"When is it not?" I reply with a grim smile.
As we head out to our bikes, I can't shake the feeling that I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. One wrong move and everything could come crashing down. But I've never been one to back down from a fight, whether it's with rival MCs or my own conflicted heart.
The roar of engines fills the night as we tear out of the compound, a vengeful army on wheels. As the wind whips past me, I make a silent promise to myself. I'll deal with the Hawks, protect the club, and then... then I'll unravel the mystery of Willow Bennett, no matter where it leads.
As we speed through the city lights blurring into streaks of neon, I can't help but feel like I'm racing toward something bigger; that all is not as it seems.
The leather-bound notebook in my cut feels like a talisman, a reminder of the girl who's inadvertently become tangled in this web of violence and revenge. I push thoughts of Willow aside, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. The Hawks need to pay, and pay dearly.
We roll up to the Shadow Hawks' clubhouse, the roar of our engines shattering the silence of the night. The element of surprise is on our side as we leap into action, guns blazing.
"Remember," I shout to my brothers as we charge forward, "We're here to send a message, not start a war."
Chaos erupts as we storm the building. The sound of glass shattering and wood splintering fills the air, punctuated by shouts and the occasional gunshot. I move with practiced efficiency, my body on autopilot as I take down one Hawk after another.
Through the melee, I spot Lochlann, the Hawks' prince, trying to make a run for it. Without hesitation, I give chase, vaulting over fallen furniture and dead bodies.
I catch up to him in the alley behind the clubhouse, tackling him to the ground. I land blow after blow to his body, my hits heavy and purposeful. He’s going to be in a world of hurt tomorrow.
"This is for crossing into our territory," I growl, punctuating each word with another blow. "And hitting our shipment.”
Lochlann spits blood, his eyes defiant. "You have no idea what's coming, Rogue," he sneers. "This is bigger than you or me."
Before I can question him further, Ghost appears at the mouth of the alley. "Rogue, we gotta go. Cops are on their way!"
After a final punch that leaves Lochlann dazed, I reach for my holster and take out my gun. I take aim, then shoot the fucker in his knee, loving the howl of pain that escapes him.
"This isn't over," I warn him, before sprinting back to my bike.
We tear out of there just as the wail of sirens fills the air. The adrenaline from the fight still courses through my veins as we make our escape, but Lochlann's words echo in my mind. What did he mean by bigger than you or me?
Back at our clubhouse, the mood is celebratory. We've struck a significant blow against the Hawks, sending a clear message about the consequences of crossing the Saints. But as my brothers toast our victory, I can't shake the feeling that we're missing something crucial.
I slip away from the revelry, heading to my room. The notebook seems to call to me, and I find myself flipping through it again. Amidst the lesson plans and class schedules, a small photo falls out. It's of Willow and who I assume is her friend, both of them beaming at the camera.
I'm pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the door. It's Ghost.
"Prez wants to see you," he says, his expression grim. "Alone."
I nod, then tuck the photo back into the notebook and slip it into my cut. Whatever Storm wants to discuss, I have a feeling it's not going to be pleasant.
I find Storm in the chapel, nursing a glass of whiskey. He doesn't look up as I enter, just gestures for me to take a seat.
"You did good tonight, Rogue," he says finally, his voice gruff. "But I can't shake the feeling you're holding something back."
I stay silent, waiting for him to continue.
Storm sighs, finally meeting my eyes. "Bones told me about the background check you had him run. Willow Bennett. Care to explain?"
I clench my jaw, weighing my options. Lying to the president is a serious offense, but telling the truth could open up a whole new can of worms.
"I met her at a bar earlier," I admit finally. "Something about her stuck with me. I wanted to know more."
Storm's eyes narrow. "And the fact that her sister is involved with the Hawks? That just a coincidence?"
"I didn't know about that connection when I asked Bones to look into her," I defend myself. "But yeah, it's got me worried, especially after what Lochlann said tonight."
This catches Storm's attention. "What did he say?"
I recount Lochlann's cryptic words, watching as Storm's expression darkens.
"This complicates things," he mutters, more to himself than to me. He's silent for a long moment, before fixing me with a hard stare. "I need you to get close to this girl, Rogue. Find out what she knows about the Shadow Hawks and whether she's involved in any of their dirty business.”
I feel my stomach drop. "You want me to use her?"
Storm's expression is unyielding. "I want you to protect this club—by any means necessary. Are we clear?"
I nod, even as I feel a part of me rebel against the order. "Crystal."
As I leave the chapel, my mind is in turmoil. The thought of using Willow, of potentially hurting her, sits like lead in my gut. But I swore an oath to this club, to my brothers. Can I really put one girl I barely know above all that?
Back in my room, I pull out the notebook again, staring at Willow's name scrawled inside the cover. I made a choice when I picked up this notebook, setting something in motion that I can't take back now.
With a heavy heart, I reach for my phone and dial the number that’s scrawled on the inside of the notebook. It’s time to get close to Willow.