Chapter 1 ~3rd POV~
The scorching Nevada sun was burning brightly over the very small town of Silver Sandstone. Everyone was doing their best to avoid the sun’s unforgiving rays at noon, and Enzo De Angelis was no exception. Underneath the shades of an old gas station, he was leaning against his Yamaha R1.
He let out a sigh, feeling the summer heat already making him sweat through his black leather jacket. He reached into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes and lit up one as he ran a hand through his messy black hair. His light green eyes scanned the deserted road while his beloved gang was resting in the shade.
The Silver Vipers. A brotherhood of speed, leather, rebellion, and loyalty. Enzo was the top dog who led them, and they basically ruled this little town, not a soul having the guts to go against them.
After taking a long drag, he blew out a stream of smoke, watching it swirl away into the hot, dry air. Boredom crept up on him, and he found himself checking his phone.
No new messages. Nothing interesting. The usual.
He then glances over at the rest of the members, noting their various states of irritation from the heat.
“It’s scorching hot out there, fellas.” One of the members, a guy called Jack with dark skin and a buzzcut, grumbled, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “This damn heat is killing me, man. Can’t we just go back to the clubhouse and wait it out?“.
Enzo took another drag of smoke before he spoke. “You all can go ahead. I will stay for a little longer.”
Another member, a tall guy called Dave with a goatee, chimed in. “You’re just gonna stay out here all by yourself, boss? Why not come with us, enjoy the AC and some beers?”
Enzo smirked, flicking the remainder of his cigarette away. “Nah, I’d rather get some alone time.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “You’re actually willingly staying out here in the scorching heat all by your lonesome?”
Enzo gave a nonchalant shrug, his light green eyes glinting with amusement. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Just don’t get heatstroke. The last thing we need is our president dropping dead from a goddamn sunburn.”
Enzo chuckled in response to Jack’s remark. “Don’t worry about me, guys. I can handle a little heat. Go on ahead and cool off. I’ll catch up with you later.”
The members exchanged skeptical glances before reluctantly deciding to leave him. Jack gave him a final once-over before turning away. “Just make sure you don’t do anything stupid, alright? Call us if you need anything.”
Enzo waved them off, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. You guys go and enjoy the AC and the cold beer for me.”
With that, the members reluctantly departed, leaving Enzo alone in the shade of the gas station. He leaned against his motorcycle, his arms crossed over his chest.
Alone at last.
The heat was surely unforgiving today. Finishing his cigarette, Enzo tugged his leather jacket off, followed by his black T-shirt, exposing tanned skin and an endless ocean of tattoos on his torso and arms. With his upper body bare, Enzo allowed the heat to envelop him, his toned muscles glistening with sweat. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, his gaze fixating on the empty road ahead.
The silver barbells on his pierced nipples stuck out like headlights, much like the snake tattoo on his neck. His gaze shifted downward, his thoughts momentarily diverting to the silver barbells adorning his nipples. The piercings glinted under the sunlight, a stark contrast against his tanned skin. Running a hand through his messy hair, he glanced at the road again, noticing it remained empty.
A sigh left his lips, and he leaned on his motorcycle, propping his legs on the handlebars. His gaze was locked with the dirty white ceiling of the gas station roof that offered the protective shade against the sun.
With a deep sigh, he leaned against his motorcycle, his muscular legs propped up on the handlebars. His gaze idly traced the dirty, white ceiling of the gas station, the shade providing temporary relief from the blazing sun. Idleness did not suit Enzo. He fidgeted, finding himself growing antsy without the constant adrenaline rush he was so accustomed to.
The local authorities had resigned themselves to the fact that Enzo and his gang were a permanent fixture in their town. They couldn’t touch him, and the townspeople learned to tread lightly around the notorious motorcycle gang, their very presence instilling fear and respect.
And yet, here Enzo was, bored out of his mind, stuck in the scorching heat. For a man who thrived on the rush of speed and the thrill of danger, boredom was like poison.
The idea of trading the small town for a vast, urban jungle had crossed his mind numerous times, but each time, the thought of the overwhelming crowds and concrete jungle filled him with disgust. He was a countryside, open road, and freedom kind of guy. The city just didn’t fit his style.
Not to mention he couldn’t leave his gang. They had been together since they were teenagers. They came into this town with only their motorcycles and managed to build their nest, a reputation, and a pack. The bond he shared with his gang was stronger than blood. They had built their little empire from scratch, facing numerous challenges and obstacles along the way. He could never leave behind his pack, his brothers.
In fact, the thought of leaving any of his comrades behind was downright unacceptable. They were more than just a motorcycle gang; they were family. The idea of starting over in a chaotic city without his people was not just inconvenient, it was inconceivable.
He toyed absent-mindedly with the silver chain around his neck as he thought back to the life he had before the brotherhood. Memories of his past crept into his mind, threatening to spoil his mood further. The thought of his mother, who had abandoned him at only five years old, and his abusive, drug-addicted father who routinely beat him for even the smallest mistakes, still haunted him.
He reached for another cigarette and lit it up, taking a long drag, trying to drown out the unwelcome recollections. The smoke of the cigarette stung his throat, but the burn felt grounding. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate into the stifling, hot air.
No, this was heaven. His pack of vipers, the small town he ruled over like a king cobra, the endless roads of the deserted Nevada. This was everything to him. The adrenaline rush of speeding down empty roads, the camaraderie of his brotherhood, the power he held over the townspeople - this was his life. And yet, here he was, stuck under the damn gas station, bored out of his mind.
A lonely male. Maybe some female companionship?
A sly grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. A pretty lady might just do the trick to beat his boredom.
The issue? There weren’t any women left in the small town he hadn’t scored into bed. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He had already slept with practically every woman in this godforsaken town. There was not a single one who had remained untouched by his charms. With a huff of frustration, he took another drag of his cigarette. Damn it.
The list of conquests was far too long for him to recall. The waitress with a sweet smile and a curvy figure, the sheriff’s daughter, who was all attitude and had a thing for bad boys, the married women bored with the routine of their husbands. He had tasted pretty much everything this town had to offer.
Yet, somehow, the thrill was starting to wear off. The rush of conquering a new woman, and the satisfaction of adding another tally to his score, were no longer as fulfilling as before. It was as if he had exhausted the entertainment this town had to offer.
He allowed himself a momentary respite, letting out a tired yawn before closing his eyes. The silence was a rare luxury in his life. For a couple of minutes, he relished the stillness, the absence of the usual chaos and noise that came with his motorcycle gang members.
The tranquility was abruptly interrupted when the sound of vehicles passing the gas station caught his attention. Expecting to see cars, he opened his eyes, only to be met with a sight that puzzled him. Moving trucks. Not just one, but several of them, lumbering down the road, passing the gas station.
The sight of the moving trucks piqued his interest. It was an unusual procession, especially in this sleepy town. Who in their right mind would be moving into this godforsaken place? Enzo pushed himself up, leaning against his motorcycle as he watched the spectacle with growing curiosity.
Enzo’s gaze narrowed as he watched the moving trucks with suspicion. He had never been a fan of newcomers. They brought change, chaos, and potential competition. As far as he was concerned, this town was his turf, and he didn’t relish the idea of some outsiders disturbing the established order.
The last time newcomers set foot on his turf, things didn’t end up good. It had been a couple: your everyday Karen with her mindless husband who agreed with her, even if stupidity was her honorable badge.
The memory of that couple still made him grit his teeth. They had swooped in, all high and mighty, acting like they owned the place. The woman, a typical Karen, had been a complete pain in the ass. Her spineless husband, always nodding and agreeing with her every word, even when it was utter bullshit.
Enzo had never seen such a pathetic pair in his entire life. They had tried to stir up trouble, complaining about every little thing and demanding special treatment because they were “newcomers.” He had swiftly put them in their place, but it had been an unnecessary headache he didn’t appreciate.
A smirk curled on his lips as he recalled how he and his gang threw flamed-up bags full of dog shit on their porch. Or that moment Tony had burst into their house dressed as a bear. The husband literally pissed himself. The memory of the couple’s reaction to the pranks never failed to bring a satisfied smirk to his face. The flaming bags of dog crap ignited their porch, causing a commotion. And then there was the unforgettable moment when Tony, ever the jokester, burst into their house dressed as a bear. The husband’s terrified face, followed by the scent of piss in the air... Priceless.
The couple wasn’t the only ones who had experienced the consequences of crossing Enzo and his gang. Any fool who thought they could challenge his leadership or disrupt the balance of this small town had been dealt with swiftly and brutally. Enzo didn’t tolerate disobedience or disrespect. He had worked hard to carve out his slice of the world, and he was damn sure going to protect it.
Exactly like a top dog protects his bone.
Enzo’s smirk widened into a predatory grin at the comparison. He liked that analogy. It suited him perfectly. He was the top dog, the leader, the boss. And anyone who tried to mess with his pack, his town, or his rules risked getting bitten.
Now the question was: Who the hell moved into town?
As he watched the last of the moving trucks pass by, the question of who the newcomers were weighed heavily on his mind. Who were these people? What brought them to his town? And most importantly, were they going to cause problems for him and his pack?
As he leaned against his bike, various scenarios of the newcomers’ profile played out in his head. Were they old folks looking for a peaceful retirement? Or perhaps another couple like Karen and her spineless husband? Maybe a family with noisy kids? The possibilities were numerous, and the curiosity was gnawing at him.
The need for a meeting with his gang members hit him like a ton of bricks. The unexpected arrival of newcomers required swift action. With a swift motion, he tugged his T-shirt over his torso and zipped up his leather jacket, indicating it was time to get moving. It was time for an urgent meet-up with his fellow vipers, his brothers-in-arms.
