Page 2 of Unmasked Anarchy (Fallen Sons MC #3)

“M a’am,” a soft voice calls.

It takes me a moment to force my eyes open. My vision is clearer, and I am connected to a lot of tubes, oxygen stuffed into my nose, and something pressed against my lips. I shake my head a little, taking a second to remember where I am and why.

The room is dimly lit, the soft hum of machines surrounding me.

I try to move my fingers, feeling the stiffness in my joints, the heaviness in my limbs.

The sterile scent of the hospital fills my nostrils, mingling with the faint aroma of antiseptic.

I blink slowly, trying to piece together the fragments of my memory.

“Can you hear me?”

A man is speaking to me, and the more I focus, the quicker I realize he is a paramedic. He is staring down at my face, his eyes full of concern and a fear that tells me my injuries are as grave as I imagined them to be. He looks like he has seen a ghost—that ghost being me.

“Yes,” I croak, my throat burning, the taste of blood lingering on my tongue.

“What’s your name?”

“Sable.”

“I’m Michael. I’m going to get you help right away. You’ve been badly injured, Sable. Do you know how this happened?”

My eyes move past him to the biker, a cigarette in his hand, his eyes on mine.

My breath catches in my throat as I take him in.

All six feet of pure muscle and ink. He looks like a Viking straight out of a movie.

His skin, a perfect blend of light and dark, mixes together in the creamiest, warmest blend I have ever seen.

His eyes, as blue as the sky, shine even though it is dark out.

His hair is long, and his beard is full.

He’s unfairly gorgeous.

“Sable?”

I turn my attention back to Michael.

“Someone tried to kill me. I don’t know who. I ... I was at a bar with friends. I left, and the next thing I knew, I was being stabbed. They thought I was dead and threw me over the edge. I pulled myself to the road, and that’s when he found me.”

I nod in the biker's direction.

My head is light, and my body is numb.

I’m guessing whatever drugs the paramedics gave me are good.

“We’re going to get you to the hospital.” Michael nods to me, then turns to the biker. “You will need to give a statement. Until then, you can leave.”

“No.”

My voice comes out quickly, even before I can think about it.

A panic grips my chest, something terrifying and unfamiliar.

I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to ride in this ambulance or go to the hospital by myself.

I don’t even know who tried to kill me or why.

The sirens wail around me, a constant reminder of the chaos that’s just unfolded.

My mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of what happened.

Faces blur in my memory, shadows lurking in the corners of my thoughts.

I feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down, each breath a struggle against the fear that threatens to consume me.

“This man isn’t family,” Michael begins, but he is cut off when the biker steps up beside him, his presence overwhelming as he drops his cigarette, crushing it out with his boot.

“She wants me to ride with her, I’m ridin’ with her.”

His voice is unwavering.

Looking between the two of us, Michael exhales and nods.

Reaching out, the biker takes my hand, stepping up beside the stretcher.

“Sable, huh? Good name.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “What’s yours, mystery guy?”

“Kael.”

My brows go up. “Kael, huh? Good name.”

His eyes dance as he stares down at me.

I squeeze his hand.

I don’t know who this man is, but he is the reason I am still breathing and, for that, I want to know more.

Even if that is a very dangerous thought to have.

They load me, load us , into the back of the ambulance.

Kael wedges himself in without so much as a flinch at the sheer amount of blood lying around; between me, my clothes, and the paramedic tools, it is everywhere.

Michael clatters around with wires and stickers and mutters about shock, but Kael never lets go of my hand.

Michael secures me, taking a seat and calling out to his partner that we are ready to move. Police lights flash outside, and I hear the other paramedic tell the police they will meet them at the hospital. They can’t waste time with more questions.

Kael gets right up against the rails of the gurney, his thumb moving lazy circles over my wrist, as if he has known me forever and this isn’t our first time meeting.

I’m terrified, my stomach in knots, but with him right here, I feel a sense of calm.

Considering how bad things are, I feel good.

Shock, I’m guessing. Michael mentioned it enough.

“So,” he murmurs, low, “what kind of sick fucker did this to you?”

Michael shoots Kael a look, but he completely ignores it, keeping his eyes on mine.

“I don’t ... I don’t know,” I croak.

“Do you remember anything?”

“It was close to last call,” I murmur. “We were celebrating. My friend Mitchell got engaged. The whole place was so bright and loud I couldn’t hear myself think.

” I swallow, tasting more blood. “I left, deciding I had had enough, and so I was going to drive myself home. I was only two blocks from my car, then ...”

My lungs seize; Kael’s hand tightens. I stare at the ceiling.

The fluorescent lights burn my eyes as the hazy memory flicks around in my mind.

“Someone grabbed me. I didn’t see his face.

” I saw something though—a sleeve, navy and rough-worn, and the hot stink of whiskey on an exhale.

“I heard him say something, so I think there were two of them. They had gloves. They ... knew what they were doing. I didn’t even get a scream out before—” I point to where the pain presses against the torn shirt.

Kael doesn’t blink. “You didn’t see faces, but you remember gloves.” The way he speaks is like he’s a detective, digging around until he finds answers.

“Yeah. And a ring. Big. On the left hand.” I breathe through the pain, let my eyes drift shut for a second. “I fought. One of them punched me. I woke up to them tossing me in a ditch.”

The memory claws at my brain, and my heart skips a beat, sweat trickling over my skin as a sick feeling washes over me. My head is spinning, and I don’t know if I can stay with it a second longer.

Michael glances back at me, then Kael, then at the heart monitor. “Her BP is bottoming. We have to move.” The ambulance lurches, sirens cracking open the silence. There’s a pressure against my belly, cold, familiar. I look down and see my blood leaking out through the bandage.

I try not to think about what my insides look like right now. I try not to remember the way I dragged myself through mud, or how close I came to closing my eyes and never opening them again.

The rest of the ride goes by terrifyingly slow, as if the whole world has stopped. All I can hear in the haze of my mind is Michael barking codes and rain slamming on the roof. I squeeze Kael’s hand until my muscles flutter, until the world starts to gray out again.

I hear him speak as I close my eyes, letting the darkness take over. “Don’t let go. Even if you want to. You hear me? Hang in there, Sable.”

But it’s peaceful here.

Really damn peaceful.

~*~*~*~*~

V OICES WAKE ME.

They seem distant, but the more I come to, the clearer they get until I realize someone is in the room with me.

Multiple someones, actually. They aren’t happy, kind voices but instead shouting ones.

Men, growling in low tones, hissing curses, and as my eyes flutter open, I slowly focus on the scene before me.

Kael is a member of the Fallen Sons MC, a notorious motorcycle club known for its rough reputation and tight-knit brotherhood.

The club's emblem, a fallen angel with battered wings, symbolizes their resilience and defiance.

Kael, with his back turned, represents a complex figure—someone deeply entrenched in the club's world, yet perhaps carrying his own burdens and secrets.

The Fallen Sons MC is recognized by everyone, a group that commands both respect and fear in equal measure, known for their loyalty to each other and their willingness to protect their own at any cost.

The part I failed to tell Kael is that I am someone's old lady.

I guess he is about to find out the hard way.

That someone is standing in the room by the door, his presence almost filling the room.

Gage ‘Grim’ Reyes. My husband. President of another MC: The Blood Creed.

Gage is so unlike Kael in every single way.

Where Kael has a kindness that radiates from his soul, shining beyond even the cut he wears on his back, Gage does not.

He is terrifying, and yet, when he walks into a room, everyone stops in their tracks.

His overwhelmingly dark personality takes your breath away.

His hair, dark as the night, rolls down his back, curling slightly on the ends.

His eyes are more black than brown, and his beard only adds to his mystery.

He’s taller than Kael and bulkier, tattoos inching over almost every part of his body.

I don’t ever think there will be a time when I don’t look at Gage and my breath doesn’t get caught in my throat.

Our relationship is well beyond complicated, but I’ve remained loyal to him for a long time.

Our paths crossed six or so years ago, and the secrets of our past kept us together.

That year was the worst year of my life, until it became the best, or maybe the worst in a more beautiful way.

The kind of beautiful that chews you up and spits you back out, teeth marks still fresh on your bones.