Page 31 of Knot Only For One Night

Rocker and Lightning, their road names, are alphas. They are twins older than me by three years and they never let me forget it. When I presented as a beta, god, that was hell on earth. Or at least I thought that was.

Little did I know, it’d get worse. So much worse.

I presented fresh at eighteen and that is when things went from sugar to shit. I had two loving parents, both part of the Midnight Wolves. They both rode and loved the neighborhood. My mom, Mary, wasn’t a brawler but she’d wrangle the Bar, put her hands in whenever she could. My father, Joseph, was everything. He was a Rider, a brawler, a man you couldn’t disrespect. You couldn’t disrespect anyone within a mile radius of him. No woman, child, or man. He didn’t take that shit, so how my brothers turned out the way they did… I can’t explain it.

Maybe they knew a different man than I did? My brothers were the normal older brothers you see in movies and books. They teased, sure, but brothers always had your back. But one day, that switch flipped and they became assholes.

I tried to figure out what happened. What made them turn on me, my parents. They started getting in trouble in school, which pissed off Prez. They started smoking and drinking, which is normal in teen years but they took it to another level. I hadn’t seen them sober once in over a year the last time I saw them. They were wild, messy, and I know they did shit the MC would never stand for. Dad knew too. He went to go save their asses the night he died.

The night that changed everything.

“Eastern Outlaws,” I mutter. That's the MC my brothers left the Midnight Wolves for.

“What a fucking stupid name,” Reed mutters while taking out his cigarette.

“You’re telling me.” Their morals are loose as hell. They might as well be nonexistent. That's why my brothers liked them.

We aren't good guys. None of us is, and we’re not stupid to that. But civilians shouldn’t have to pay for MC business.

It’s really that simple.

A concept none of these newbies can seem to get through their thick skulls.

“Here they come. You want me to stay?” Red asks, rolling up his sleeves.

“Nah, I got it,” I answer, not wanting Red to hear the shit they are about to spew. It’s the same shit since they joined the Eastern Outlaws and it’s fucking embarrassing, but I can’t seem to let them go quite yet. They are my brothers. They’re the only family I have left.

My dad died during a shootout a few days after my birthday by another MC trying to take over ours. I always wonder if my dad hadn’t followed my brothers into the trap, would he still be alive today?

That MC is dead and gone now, Prez killing the leaders and scaring off the rest, but the wound on us, on me, lingers.

When my dad died, my mom died inside. I took care of her shell, alone, as my brothers ran off to fuck knows where. I had to watch her body decay in front of my eyes. I couldn’t do shit to save her and there was no way I could ever leave her. She truly died from heartbreak, six months after her soulmate.

Then I was all alone.

My brothers left right after Dad died. They tried to get me to go with them at first, but I’m loyal to a fault, thank god.

I see them at the treeline, lining the forest that covers this side of the building. They walk up to me, punching each other and laughing. They look a hot fucking mess.

Rocker has more tattoos, almost as many as I do. Except his are of pinup girls and other racy scenes. Mine are more… personal. I have “Wolves” written across my knuckles, a cathedral on my back, which hurt like a bitch but looks sick.

I guess I can't judge his tattoos. They probably think mine are stupid as shit too.

We have the same brown hair except theirs is already thinning and stringy from lack of hygiene. As they get closer, a funk follows them.

“God fucking damn,” I snarl as they get closer. That damn smell.

“You’re not a damn alpha, cut it out,” Rocker snaps at me and I roll my eyes.

“Don't take being an alpha to know when to take a damn shower,” I say, refusing to move from my spot leaning against the brick wall.

“Don’t need to shower.”

“My burning nose hairs say something different.”

“That's not what we're here to talk about,” Lightning says. His hair is longer than Rocker’s and mine, kept in a ponytail. His skin wasn't as greasy as Rocker’s but pretty damn close. “Our weekly reminder of the offer still stands. Let us be brothers again, Soren. Join us.”

I sigh, looking out to the street. College kids in varsity jackets, backpacks strapped to their backs, laughing and talking as they hang in the parking lot. For a moment I wonder what it’d be like if I left it all. Moved across the country, far enough away no one could afford to ride out to find me. Start over.