Daughters of Chaos

13

Chapter Thirteen

Raven

The feeling of freedom I felt moving out of the MC stronghold was insane. I'd never felt more claustrophobic or antsy in my life- surrounded by burly men all the time. Some may call it a dream come true to be surrounded by those good-looking men day and night. I'd call it fucking annoying.

Sure, they were all nice to look at for the most part. Especially Jesse and Raptor. Yeah, those two are eye candy from miles away. Hell, they were all decent to look at, even Bear in his own I'm-king-asshole kind of way and Reaper in his one-wrong-look-and-I'll-gut-you thing he has going on.

It wasn't the view I hated. It was the suffocating tension that never went away. The looming feeling of danger just around the corner. That feeling only seemed to get worse the longer we stayed. By that last day- when we finally moved out- it seemed to reach an all-time high.

When Nix tripped over one of her boxes and fell, the reaction from Viper and Bear told me all I needed to know. They were expecting something. Something big. Something dangerous. I just hoped whatever it was didn't follow us to our new place.

The feeling from that day never really went away. Not after Viper gave me that message- the silent one as he left the room that day. Stay alert. Stay safe.

That message is the reason I haven't read more into the conditions surrounding our new living arrangement. I know it's no coincidence that the house we rented just happened to pop up when it did. It's too nice and too cheap to be some random gift from the universe. The MC had something to do with it. There's no way that place magically became available right next door to the club's Treasurer overnight.

With Raptor right next door, the club can easily have eyes on us. Normally, that would piss me off, but knowing there's someone or something out there that seems to shake the fearless Viper to his core... The idea that someone friendly is watching out for us- for Nix- gives me a small token of comfort.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I swipe the screen and read the text from Phoenix. Since she started school again, she's kept me updated between classes, telling me all about the campus and how excited she is to be back, gushing over every detail in true Nix fashion. It's one of the few things keeping me sane with everything that's been going on.

Knowing she's safe and happy is my number one concern.

I send her a quick reply before getting back to work. This place is shockingly busy for a hole-in-the-wall bar. Every day business is steady from about ten o'clock on. And the tips are surprisingly generous. I never thought I'd find my own slice of joy in this place when Nix convinced me to stay. But here I am, enjoying the hell out of this bar and the guys I work with.

Jesse hip-checks me as I finish cleaning a round of glasses. I glare back at him playfully as the doors open, bringing in another group of customers. Jesse looks over to greet them and his smile falls. Something's not right.

I turn to the group that just walked in- five men wearing MC cuts, but not cuts of the Sons of Sorrow. A rival gang? That can't be good.

The leader of the pack eyes Jesse before surveying the rest of the place. When he sees me, he stops. His beady orbs trickle slowly down my body as his lips curl into a disgusting smirk.

"Didn't know you started recruiting females, J. Nice touch," the dickhead tells Jesse, his eyes still glued to me.

"Get outta here, Dom," Jesse replies firmly.

Dom ignores Jesse and moves closer to the bar. Closer to me. "What's your name, sexy?"

His roaming eyes make my blood boil. "Go fuck yourself!" My words drip with venom as the jackass and his misfits fill the room with howls of laughter.

"Now, that's quite a name," Dom finally says. "I bet you're a wild one, ain't cha."

A lethal sneer is my only reply.

As if my hatred only turns him on, Dom licks his lips. "Mmm, I like em wild."

His insinuation has me seconds from unleashing hell on this bastard. I'm about to jump over the bar and set Rebel Raven free on this fucker. Before I can, Jesse moves in front of me, blocking my path to the soon-to-be-dead Dom.

"We have an agreement. Nothing goes down on home turf. Both clubs swore to it."

Jesse's words grab my attention. What the fuck?

Dom feigns innocence. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, brother. We're just here for some drinks."

He shifts to stare at me, still partially blocked by Jesse. "And the view."

Jesse studies the group for a moment before nodding to Archie, who's joined us from the kitchen. Archie quickly fills five glasses and slides them to the men.

"Forty bucks," Jesse tells Dom coldly.

The pack leader chuckles. "What? No discount for an old friend?"

"Nope."

Dom shakes his head, dropping two twenties on the bar. He pulls out another and holds it out to me. "For you, wild thing. Somethin' to remember me by."

I scoff at his outstretched hand. "Keep it. Maybe you can use it to buy yourself some game."

Another chorus of laughter erupts from the group as Dom pockets his money. "I like a woman with a mouth like that on her. Means she knows how to use it." His vulgar tongue jets out, slowly swiping his lips as his eyes take their time appraising my curves.

"Finish your drinks and leave," Jesse commands.

His voice is threatening in a way I've never heard him speak before. Dom holds up both hands in surrender before grabbing his glass and directing his gang to a table nearby.

They drink slowly, chatting amongst themselves and stealing glances toward the bar every so often. Archie never returned to the kitchen, instead choosing to stay close to me behind the bar. Jesse never took his eyes off them, watching their every move with caution.

"What was that about?" I ask him quietly while Archie makes a call.

Jesse peels his eyes off the MC and gives me a tense smile. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"I know when something is nothing, Jes. And that," I nod pointedly to the table of assholes, "isn't nothing."

He lets out a frustrated sigh, looking torn. Finally, he gives in, telling me some of the story behind the feuding MCs. "I can't say much, alright. It's just those assholes are part of another MC, a rival crew you could say. There's just some bad blood between them and us because of some ancient history between the two founders."

He pauses, debating if he should continue or not. His eyes slowly drift back to the table as he quietly says, "nothing's happened between the crews in a while. Sometimes they just like to show up and rev everyone up a bit. That's all."

Something in his face tells me that's not all there is to it, but I don't push. The fear in his eyes is all the confirmation I need- the MC is definitely not just a club for Harley lovers. The crew is part of something much more sinister. Something very dangerous.

And now Phoenix and I are right in the middle of it.