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My fingers tremble as I take it, the label worn from countless hands before mine. I pour the amber liquid with care, ensuring each glass receives its equal share of poison. The fumes sting my nostrils and threaten to unravel the composure I fight to maintain.
“Thanks, doll,” one of them sneers, his eyes raking over me as if I were no more than another commodity within the clubhouse walls. I swallow hard, the taste of bile rising in my throat.
“Anytime,” I say, and they laugh, a sound that is neither joyful nor kind, and I retreat to the safety of the shadows, watching the scene unfold.
Skirmishes are common, bursts of violence erupt like flares in the night. Two members square off, their argument escalating with each shouted curse. It is over territory—always territory—as if the ground they stand on grants them power and prestige. A fist flies, connecting with flesh, and blood spatters onto the concrete floor.
I feel the adrenaline spike in my veins, a fight-or-flight response honed by years of survival. But there is nowhere to run, no sanctuary from the brutality. This is my world now, a world where mercy is a forgotten concept.
“Watch closely, Cherry,” Tank’s voice rumbles beside me, his presence a looming threat even when cloaked in faux concern. “This is what happens to those who don’t fall in line.”
I nod, not trusting my voice to carry without betraying the tremor of fear that clutches at my heart. His hand lands heavily on my shoulder, a possessive gesture that speaks volumes. In his grip, I am reminded that I belong to him, to the club, and there is no escaping the ties that bind me.
“Understood,” I whisper, my gaze fixed on the two men as one crumples to the ground, his body yielding to the punishment inflicted upon him.
“Good.” Tank’s approval is colder than the chill that seeps into my bones.
Night after night, the threats loom larger. Rival MC’s prowl the edges of our claimed territory. I hear the stories, whispers of raids and retribution, of brethren lost in the clash of steel and gunpowder.
None of the other men in the MC bother me, sure they might stare a little too long or ask me to get them something, but no one touches me. They all know I’m bought and paid for. It’s been a month and Tank hasn’t tried to claim me. I’m beginning to think I’m not his type. Right now, he’s sitting at a table, drinking with Snake, his sergeant at arms and his VP Rhage.
Casually, I walk across the clubhouse floor and head upstairs to my room. When I make it to the second level without being questioned or harassed, I breathe a sigh of relief. As I round the corner to my room, one of the club whores is carrying my suitcase.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I ask with my hands on my hips.
“Tank said to move all your stuff into his room. We’re just doing as we’re told.”
“No, no, no,” I whisper.
She grins at me and nods. “Yeah, seems he’s had enough of waiting.” She leans in closer. “You know he ain’t a small man. I should know. If I were you, Cherry, I’d have a whole tube of KY ready.”
The blood drains from my face and she laughs. The other woman helping her shakes her head and pushes her.
“Don’t be a bitch, Suzie. The only reason you know, is he fucked you over the pool table. You said you couldn’t walk right for a week, and it hurt. The poor kid looks scared to death.”
Straightening my shoulders, I ask, “Which room is his?”
Suzie raises her eyebrows and says, “Follow me, Cherry.”
Tank’s room is the last one at the end of the hall. As club president, his room is the biggest. Suzie opens the door, and we all walk inside. I’m surprised at how clean and orderly it all is, crisp white sheets on a large king-sized bed. Two dressers, meticulously arranged, contribute to the overall sense of neatness. All the surfaces are free of clutter, each item finding its designated space. Opening a door, I find a bathroom with black tiles that gleam. It has a shower, a black bathtub, double vanity, and a black toilet.
None of this feels like Tank. I turn to face the two women and Suzie points at the sheets. “Told us to put white on, just for you.”
“Suzie, leave her alone.”
Suzie shrugs. “Guess he wants to show the others how he’s going to make you bleed, Cherry.”
My face instantly heats and as much as I want to say I’m not a virgin, those sheets are going to prove otherwise, but I will not have this bitch see me squirm.
“No doubt he’s looking for something a little less used.”
The other woman bursts out laughing and opens one of the dressers. “Tank had this one put in for you.” Suzie drops my suitcase on the floor and leaves the room. “Don’t mind her. She’s a club whore. Been around the club too long and fucked too many to be anyone’s old lady.” She puts my things in the top drawer, then faces me. “I’m Gemma. Tomorrow, if you need someone to talk to, you come find me. I’ll be in the kitchen. Tank is having a dinner in your honor.”
“A dinner?”
Gemma stops and touches my upper arm. “Yeah, I think he really likes you.”
She gives me a smile and leaves me alone in my new prison cell.
