Blood & Venom

COPPENHAGEN, DENMARK

The rain came down slow and steady, the kind that didn’t stop for grief.

Rain soaked the Danish earth until it reflected the sky like dark glass, turning the chrome of parked bikes into a row of pale, distorted ghosts. The casket waited at the center—black lacquer, its edges smudged with fingerprints from hands that would never touch it again. The only color came from the banner draped across the lid. Red lettering stitched onto black cloth.

At the center of the banner, a black-and-white banded common krait lay coiled—not striking, not aggressive. Calm. Watchful.

There were no flowers. Gregor “Rokkstar” Lokken wouldn’t have wanted that bullshit cliché either.Something like this was just fine; friends, family, and girls. Lots of girls.

Donovan Westfall and Klaus Sturm walked up to the side of the coffin, broad shouldered and still as the men around them.

Don rested one scarred and calloused hand on the slick lid.

“I’ll take care of her, brother,” he said, voice low and steady. “Just like I promised. Rest easy.”

Two knuckle taps on the wood, then he stepped back.

Thunder followed like applause.

A ring of men in kuttes formed around the casket—Presidents and VPs from every European charter. Their bottom rockers shone wet in the gray light. DANMARK, NORGE, SVERIGE, SUOMI, DEUTSCHLAND.

When the casket touched bottom, Don turned and looked for her.

Kait Lokken stood a few feet apart from the crowd, already moving toward her bike. Tall. Beautiful. The only woman in a kutte. It was her own and she’d earned against all odds. Black leather slick with rain, the Krait snake on her back fully displayed, her hair deliberately swept to one side so nothing would cover it. Jeans. Boots.

Don stepped behind her and called her name.

“Kait.”

“You can take as much time as you need. We’ll wait for you in the truck and—”

As she turned, Don felt her silver eyes stare right through him.

“No.” Her voice was even. “It’s fine. We can leave. There’s nothing left to do here.”

In a final Krait salute, guns went off and engines revved hard, the sound tearing through the cemetery like steel thunder.

Gregor Lokken was gone, and the Copenhagen charter died with him.

They rode back through the storm, twenty bikes carving black streaks through the wet streets of Nørrebro. Rain turned the pavement into glass, reflections shattering beneath spinning tires. When they reached the two-story brick clubhouse, the lights inside glowed warm against the cold, a quiet welcome after the ride. Inside, it smelled like smoke and leather—and like something closing. The end of the first European chapter.

For the first time in Krait MC history, there was no big send-off party. Not only was the party guy himself gone—but too much else was dying with him to pretend otherwise.

For the rest of the night people drank, said their condolences and left one by one repeating the same lines.

Once morning came, Rune, the Vice President—and Kait’s boyfriend—stood in the hallway, eyes looked hollow.

“Is there really nothing I can do to make you stay?” he asked, voice low, almost breaking.

Kait didn’t look up. She was still disgusted with him. “Not since you agreed to disband instead of taking over.”

“I can’t do what Rokkstar did. We were barely able to keep the lights on in this place as it is.”

“I could have taken over.”

He shook his head. “Kait, you know the rules. Krait doesn’t have women presidents. Shouldn’t even have a woman patched in to begin with. You’ve always been the exception.”

Her mouth twitched into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. Well, back home, I can still be part of it.”

“Kait. This is your home.”

“No. It never was. Take care of Dommeren and lock up. You should be able to handle that at least.”

The words landed as hard as the door she slammed behind her.

By dusk, Don made it official. The Copenhagen charter was done. Eight members, one legacy, and nobody strong enough—or stupid enough—to try to wear Rokkstar’s crown.

The plane hummed steady as it got ready to depart. Cabin lights still bright.

Klaus—the liaison between Texas and Europe—was out cold across the aisle, his kutte folded over his chest like armor.

Don poured whiskey into paper cups and handed one across. “Preventive jet lag medicine.”

Kait took it, stared out the window. The ramp workers beginning to wrap things up for the plane to start moving.

“I’m glad you accepted,” Don said. “It’s the right thing.”

Klaus half-woke long enough to mumble, “You have no idea what she can do, Don.”

“With a father like Greg, I can only imagine.”

Klaus smiled, already drifting again. “Wake my ass up when we land.”

Don chuckled and tossed a blanket over him. “Loraine’s gonna be thrilled to see you,” he said to Kait.

“She still running the bail bonds?”

“Yep. Snake Eyes is her empire. Reads her cards between bonds. Still tells us when to duck.”

Kait chuckled. “Some things never change.”

“You got that right.” He sipped his drink. “Blaze and Kolton have kids now. Blaze and his wife just had a baby girl. Kolton’s boy—Kyle—he’s starting kindergarten in the fall.”

“Wow, already?” Kait raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Seems like I just found out he was married.”

“Yeah. And he’s divorced already. Didn’t last a year.”

She leaned back, eyes on the ceiling. “That’s too bad.”

“You ever think about settling?”

“Settling’s just a nice word for giving up.”

Don laughed softly. “You sound just like your old man.”

“Then I’m on the right track.”

He grinned. “Lane’s gonna love that.”

Her eyes cut to him. “Let me guess—Lane’s married and has twins now?”

“Lane? Hell no. He’s all business.”

“Is he still an asshole?”

“Absolutely,” Klaus muttered from his sleep, and they both laughed under their breath.

Don gestured toward the dark window. “Get some rest, kid. We still need to drive from Houston to Dryden.”

She smiled faintly at the nickname. “Yeah.”

But she didn’t sleep. She watched the engine lights blink against the storm, thinking of everything waiting across the ocean. Lane once told her she’d never wear the patch.

Yet the snake was on her forearm now, inked deep over the faint, iridescent scars of the bite—proof of what she’d endured, and a warning of what still lived in her blood.

She had earned it. All of it. But earning it in Denmark wasn’t the same as keeping it in Dryden. Back home, she knew she’d have to fight for her place all over again.

As the plane began to move and the captain gave the welcome, the weight of Denmark slipped from her shoulders like shedding skin—old pain peeling away, her old life dying a quiet death. Ahead waited the heat, the dust, the condolences, the past… the future…

And Lane Westfall.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees her wearing the Krait kutte.

Once in the air, she looked down one last time. As far as she was concerned, Denmark was as dead and buried as her father.

The Texas air hit like a slap the moment Kait stepped out of the terminal—hot, dry, thick with jet fuel and honeysuckle. After years of Denmark’s cold rain, it felt almost violent.

A young prospect in a faded kutte waited by the curb, leaning against a dented black van. He straightened fast when he saw Donovan.

“Buster,” Don said by way of greeting. “This is Kait. Fang from Denmark.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Sorry for your loss,” said the brown-haired, blue-eyed boy. Not older than 21.

Kait nodded.

“He’s Mack’s prospect. Not sure if you remember Mack,” Don said to Kait. “Take us somewhere for breakfast, but let’s get the fuck out of the city.”

“Yes, sir.” The kid’s voice cracked halfway through, earning a smirk from Don.

Kait tossed her backpack in back and climbed in. “Three and a half hours to Dryden, right?”

“Give or take,” said Don. “You’ll have plenty of time to remember why you left.”

The van groaned out of Houston, past refineries and scrubland that stretched forever. The sky went on forever too—wide, pale, merciless.

Kait pulled a folded shipping slip from her back pocket. “Two weeks for my bike… fuck.”

Don chuckled. “We’ll get you on something till then. Couple Street Glides in the warehouse.”

“Oh, man.” She winced. “I guess it could be worse.”

“They run well, unlike ‘The Nope’.”

“‘The Nope’?”

Klaus and Don looked at each other.

Don chuckled. “Prospect bike, now that’s the real initiation.”

Don and Klaus erupted into laughter. Kait just had to take their word for it.

Half an hour later, his pager went off. “Goddamn thing not working.”

“Wow, you still use those?” said Kait as more of an observation.

Klaus chuckled.

Don shook it like it might come back to life. “Ah, here we go.” The pager slowly began to scroll a message to call home. “Shit. I gotta call Loraine.”

Klaus checked his cellphone. “My cellphone is as useless as my liver right now.”

“Try mine,” said Kait. “May work for US calls. Although it doesn’t even seem to get a signal right now,” she said holding it up.

“Just toss that shit. We’ll grab TracFones before we hit the road.” Don stretched, bones popping. He glanced around the diner windows. “Hell, don’t even see a payphone around this place.”

The diner smelled like fried onions and old stories.

After they ordered, the food arrived quickly enough and they ate and chatted for a few minutes.

Don finally shoved his plate forward and stood. “Pit stop before we roll.”

Klaus stayed back with Kait.

“How you doing, kiddo?” Klaus asked, watching her get comfortable in the booth. Switching from elbows on the table and off the table.

Kait snapped out of her deep thoughts. “All right.”

“Anything you want to know? Ask away.”

“Can’t really think of something specific. I guess I’ll figure it out as we go.”

“You’ll do fantastic, and I will proudly sponsor you,” he said.

“That means the world to me, thank you.”

“Sure thing.” He nodded and paused. “Dryden is about the same, maybe more ran down than you remember. Definitely much hotter than your neck of the woods.”

She smiled faintly, then reached over and tugged one of his gray curls. “You sure about that? Looks like time hit you harder than it did the town.”

He grinned. “At least I’m not a paw-paw like Don and Randy.”

Don flipped him off as he walked back and sat down.

“Found a payphone by the bathrooms,” he said. “We gotta step it up. Got a Klub 911, I just talked to Lane—Snake Eyes got shot up last night.”

They hit Dryden by sundown. The town looked smaller than she remembered—one long strip of neon and dust, the kind of place where everyone knew your sins before your name.

She recognized a few landmarks from her childhood: the waterpark long since closed, the old gas station still flashing OPEN 24 HRS though it clearly wasn’t. But when the first set of Harleys rumbled by, her pulse kicked up.

They turned onto Main Street, and there it was—Snake Eyes Bail Bonds.

The building sat glowing at the edge of the street like something that refused to die with the rest of Dryden.The neon snake buzzed overhead in green and red, throwing sick light across the pavement and the row of parked Harleys out front. Windows spider-webbed and walls full of bullet holes. Luckily, the OPEN 24 HOURS neon sign was the only casualty.

“Goddamn it,” Don muttered, climbing out.

Kait followed, boots hitting the pavement. Klaus threw an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. There’s Kolton. And the guy with the mullet—that’s Ram. Don’t get too close; he likes to grab.”

“Good to know,” she said and they laughed.

Kolton turned at the sound of her voice. His expression flickered—shock, nostalgia, then something else entirely.

“Well, holy shit,” he said, stepping forward. “Kait fucking Lokken.”

“Was this you, Prince?” she asked, smiling for the first time since she left Denmark.

“God, it’s so good to see you. I’m so sorry about Rokkstar,” he said giving her a hug.

“Yeah… thanks.”

They stood there a second longer than necessary, both remembering.

“You look so fucking hot,” he said finally.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said with a flirty smile.

He bit his lower lip and looked at her from head to toe. “Can’t wait to catch up.”

Kait stepped in closer. “We definitely will.”

Don’s shout cut across the lot. “Prince! Call Lane. Tell him to have Kode follow that tracker.”

“Lane’s up in Laredo with Diablo already,” Kolton called back. “He had Kode handling that before he left.”

“Well good thing I left him in charge,” said Don and shook his head going inside the bail bonds.

Kolton nodded. “Yeah, yeah. So—welcome home, Kait.”

She smiled. “Thanks. At least it won’t be boring.”

Ram approached, tall, brown, and a mustache that spelled trouble. “So, you’re Kait,” he said, slow drawl curling around her name.

“And you’re Ram. Heard a lot about you.”

“Everything you heard is true.”

“Can’t wait to hear the details.”

He grinned. “Yeah? Alright,” he said nodding with a grin.

Don pointed toward the bikes. “We’ll finish up here. Kolton, take Kait to the Nest, get her settled.”

Kolton raised an eyebrow. “You sure? I can drive the van.”“Leave it. She’s with you.”

Kait grabbed her duffel from the back seat.

Kolton smirked. “That all you brought? For good?”

“All I need is on my back.”

He tossed her a helmet. “Then let’s ride.”

She climbed on behind him, the hum of the engine already crawling under her skin.

“I haven’t ridden backside since the last time I was here,” she said, leaning in. “With you, actually.”

Kolton’s grin widened. “Then you remember what to do. Hold on tight, baby.”

“Shit,” she muttered as the bike roared to life and tore down Main Street—past the bullet holes, the neon, straight into the heart of Dryden.

THE NEST - FRONT OFFICE

Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flat and tired, casting a dull sheen over the cramped office. filing cabinets, stacked paperwork and files, and the scarred wooden desk that had seen decades of bad news and worse decisions.

Loraine sat behind it, elbows resting near an open ledger, a single card laid face-up in front of her. She didn’t light candles here. Didn’t need them. The Nest had its own weight—dust, leather, old cigar smoke soaked into the walls.

Her rings clinked as she shuffled her tarot deck—slow, deliberate, familiar.

She’d been restless all day. The kind of feeling that crawled up her spine and whispered something’s coming.

She drew a card.

Of course.

“Confusion, secrets, lies,” Loraine muttered, dragging a finger along the pale path on the card. “Your secrets or someone else’s?”

She drew another.

A turn of fate. A cycle closing, another beginning.

“Well, shit. There it is. We’re back where we started. Rokkstar’s girl comin’ home to stir shit up.”

A third card slipped free of the deck before she even pulled it.

Five of Wands. Five men fighting with sticks—every blow landing too close to home.

Loraine tilted her head. “Shit. The club is going to have their hands full.”

She sat back and lit a cigarette, watching the smoke twist over the table.

The cards glimmered faintly in the low light, like they were breathing.

“Something you want to say?” she said and pulled one more.

A lone man carrying every burden he could lift, face hidden behind the weight.

Loraine went still. Her thumb brushed the edge of the card like it might bleed if she pressed too hard.

“Oh, honey…” she whispered. “Your world is going to turn upside down. You won’t know what hit ya.”

She scoffed at the next card. The deck was awfully specific that day.

A beautiful and confident woman, a natural leader. Independent. Dangerous. A trailblazer.

Loraine exhaled through her nose. “Well, there she is. The chaos to your order.”

She leaned forward and spoke to the card like it could hear her.

“But you, missy, are going to have it very tough for a while.”

She gathered the cards slowly, almost afraid of them now.

“Still…” she said, half-smiling to herself. “You were always meant to come back home, weren’t you?”

Then, faintly, the rumble of an engine outside.

She turned her head toward the window—headlights cutting across the wall. Someone was pulling into the lot below.

Her lips parted, the smallest, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Right on time,” she whispered, gathering the cards.

THE NEST - OUTSIDE

The Nest rose out of the dark like it had always been there, waiting.

Man in the Box coming from the outdoor speakers, low and distorted as Kait swung off the back of the bike. Stones cracked beneath her boots.

“Holy shit… I’m here,” said Kait taking in the Nest.

Two stories of sun-bleached stucco and hard lines, wrapped in a narrow second-floor walkway with metal railings that caught the light from inside. Warm yellow spilled from a few upstairs windows, the rest left dark and watchful. The corner wall stopped her cold — the Krait painted black, big and unapologetic, coils twisting beneath the curved KRAIT MC lettering, cracked and weathered like it had survived more than one war.

She could definitely relate.

“The town hasn’t changed much,” she said, glancing around. “There were spots I didn’t remember, but now that we’re over here… everything looks the same.”

Kolton pulled off his helmet, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Dryden’s got a way of staying stuck in time. You staying with Don and Loraine?”

“I don’t know, actually.” She looked around at the familiar lot, the same KRAIT MC paintjob on the side wall. “Here, wherever. I don’t care.”

“Well, all the rooms are taken here, unfortunately.”

“Really? You live here too?”

“Yep, second door upstairs” said Kolton looking at her for a moment.He adjusted his kutte, patches clean and bright. “Moved in after the divorce.”

“You moved out of your house?”

“I let her keep it—because of Kyle.” His tone softened. “He is starting school this year. You’ll get a kick out of him.”

Kait smiled faintly. “I’m sure I will. Well, shit… I need to catch up to you and Blaze. Is he around?”

Kolton shook his head. “Still pretty banged up from the last tournament.”

Her eyes widened. “He’s bull riding?”

“Not full-time. Just here and there for some extra cash. Got thrown pretty bad last time.”

“Damn… well, at least he’s doing what he always wanted to. That’s awesome.”

“You’d think.” Kolton looked like he wanted to say more, but before he could—

“Is that my Kaitydoll?” came a voice from behind them.

Kait turned. “Holy shit—Loraine…” She broke into a grin and hugged her tightly.

“Look at you,” Loraine said, holding her at arm’s length. “All grown up. How beautiful are you?”

“Too fucking beautiful,” Kolton said under his breath. Kait smacked his arm playfully.

“I ain’t got shit on you,” Kait said, and Loraine laughed, pulling her in for another hug as they walked into the Nest.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry about your daddy,” Loraine said. “He was one of the best. How was the trip?”

“Long. Still a little jet-lagged.”

“You hungry?”

“Nah, I could use a beer, though.”

Loraine snapped her fingers. A girl darted behind the bar and came back with two cold ones. Kait took hers, condensation dripping down her fingers.

Kolton raised his voice over the chatter, standing in the middle of the room. “Listen up, everyone! This is Kait—Rokkstar’s daughter from Denmark. Yes, she’s a woman. Yes, she’s Krait. But more than that, she’s family. You treat her as such. Anything she needs.”

A few cheers and whistles rose from the tables. An older member wearing a cowboy hat stood. Kait spotted one right away—weathered, green-eyed, still carrying that same spark.

“Hi, sweetheart,” said Randy Hedrick, Blaze’s dad and one of the founding fathers. “Look at ya walkin’ in here like a damn ray of sunshine.” He hugged her tight.

“Kowman. You look just like I remember,” Kait said, smiling.

“That’s good. Lord almighty, you’re gorgeous. Sorry about Greg. We had our own memorial here for him when we got the news.” He nodded toward a small table in the corner—a small candle, a bottle of vodka, and a framed photo she’d never seen before. Her father, younger.

“You should keep it,” Loraine offered softly.

Kait shook her head. “No. It belongs here.”

“Welcome back, Kait,” said another voice—Mack, the Road Captain and club’s mechanic. A man in his early fifties with a dark beard and piercing blue eyes. “You probably don’t remember me. I was mostly working on bikes back then.”

“I do, of course. It’s good to see you again, Mack.” She shook his hand firmly.

“Mom, guys, I gotta put Kait up to speed,” Kolton said finally.

“Of course,” said Loraine, giving Kait one last squeeze. “We’ll catch up at dinner.”

“Thank you, Loraine. It’s really good seeing you.”

“I’m happy you’re home, baby,” she said, watching as Kolton they headed to the double doors. A faint, knowing smile tugged at her mouth. The cards were right, she thought. Kait Lokken’s return was going to change everything.

A tall young man nearly bumped into them as they went out, a cd wallet tucked under his arm. Messy black hair, lip piercing, pale.

“Whoa, sorry—hey, you must be Kait,” he said. “I’m Kode. With a K.” He stuck out his hand eagerly. “I’m Intelligence.”

Kolton smirked. “Our resident nerd.”

“Nice to meet you. Kait. Also with a K,” she said, grinning. Kode laughed a little too hard and didn’t let go of her hand fast enough.

Kolton cleared his throat. “Don and Klaus are with Ram at Snake Eyes. You get the truck?”

“Yeah, I’m on it. Kount and Diablo are still in Laredo.”

“Good. You going, right?”

“Yeah, I was leaving right now,” Kode said, backing away, cheeks red. “Oh—and my condolences about your dad, Kait.”

“Thanks,” she said simply, raising her beer in acknowledgment.

Kode bumped into one of the couches and looked back, embarrassed.

Kolton made a sour face. “Jesus, he’s like a puppy.”

“I think he’s kind of cute,” Kait said with a smirk.

They looked at each other. “With a ‘k’,” they said at the same time and laughed.

Kait and Kolton stepped out of the main area and into the courtyard.

Kait studied the layout and spotted the empty pool off to their right. They cut across the concrete, passing the edge of the pool and the scattered chairs, heading toward the metal staircase at the inner corner of the building.

A big garage looming beyond the railing, quiet with its rolling door shut. Upstairs, a few doors glowed with light.

Kolton took the stairs first. Kait followed, the metal steps ringing under their boots as they climb toward the chapel at the far end of the second-floor walkway. They stopped at the door where Kait could see a sign at the very top which read:

Kolton opened the chapel door. “After you.”

“Holy shit. Finally,” Kait said, stepping inside.

The air was cooler here, heavy with cedar, smoke, and memory. She ran her fingers over the carved black walnut table, eyes drawn immediately to the big banner with the Krait logo. The same on her and Kolton’s back.

But what stopped her wasn’t the table, or the banner or even the weight of the room.It was the tank against the back wall—the thing every Krait learned to respect before they ever earned a patch.

The Judge.

A glass enclosure sat on a dark wooden stand, its single inhabitant coiled in perfect, deadly calm: a black-and-white banded krait, its scales catching the dim light like polished bone. The serpent lifted its head the moment she entered, tongue tasting the air, slow and deliberate—like it understood every secret spoken in this room.

Rokkstar used to tell her the snake kept the club honest.That a man thought twice about lying with death watching him.

Kait’s breath tightened for a second—an old memory of being fourteen, leaning too close, the krait tracking her like it already knew her blood. Now, stepping into the chapel again, it shifted in the tank, head turning as if recognizing her… or the imbalance she brought with her.

“Same Judge, isn’t he?”

Kolton stood next to her. “Yeah, old fucker will outlive us all.”

She exhaled softly. “He’s so awesome.”

Kait also notice a piece of paper right above the tank. A set or rules slapped on the black brick wall with a single piece of duct tape.

Kolton smiled faintly. “Yep. What happened to the Judge in Denmark?”

Kait sighed. “VP kept him,” she said hoping it didn’t trigger more questions.

Kolton only looked at her and smiled. “Crazy. You’re back and fully patched. You made Fang and everything.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes dropped to his kutte. “We made it.” She nodded. “Blood, sweat, and tears, huh?”

“All of it.”

She wandered toward the wall of photos—the Founding Five in their prime.

“Your old man was a badass,” Kolton said beside her. “First Sergeant-at-Arms.”

“They all were, are,” she whispered.

Kolton rested a hand on her back. “Now it’s our turn to make them proud.”

She smiled faintly and clinked her bottle against his. “We’ll make them proud.”

“Amen.”

Kait stepped back, scanning the room, taking it all in. “It’s surreal. I used to dream about this place.”

Kolton chuckled. “We’re allowed in here now.”

She shook her head, smirking. “We don’t have to sneak in anymore.”

Kait went over to the side table

He grinned. “Those were some good times.”

“You kissed me here for the first time,” she said.

Kolton held her gaze for a moment, thumb tracing her hand. “I did way more than that.”

Her breath hitched—not from surprise, but from memory. “Sure did.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” he said, voice lower now, eyes lingering a little too long.

“Me too,” she said softly.

“Alright, quick rundown, Don’s at the head, obviously, then…” He said pointing to the left. “Lane, Mack, Diablo, Ram, Randy, who’s our Keeper…”

He moved to the other side of the black walnut table. “Then me, you, Kode, Blaze and Klaus. You get your dad’s chair, by the way,” He said, pulling it out for her with a grin.

“Thanks. Oh, shit,” she said counting in her head. “I made the table uneven now. The odd one out.”

“Ain’t nothing odd about you, babe. Here, have a seat.”

Kait smiled and sat down. She ran her hand along the backrest, tracing the etched leather. “This is crazy.”

“You earned it.”

She nodded and took a deep breath.

“Ok, so, let’s talk shop… What’s going on,” Kait said sobering up from the moment.

“Still in the bail business. Still making deals with people we probably shouldn’t.”

“Don mentioned a couple of cartel families,” said Kait. “You get your guns and toys from them now?”

Kolton smirked. “We get our guns and toys from them.”

“Right,” she said, giving him a look.

“Yeah… this guy we bailed out, Ignacio Huerta from the Mondragón cartel. One of our ‘closest business partners.’ They’re beefing with the Talamantes over turf in the Laredo hills. Word got out there was a hit on Ignacio. Everyone in town got told not to bail him out. They were probably going to pop him as soon as he got transferred up north.”

“And we got him out just in time.”

Kolton grinned. “Yep.”

Kait shook her head. “So the Talamantes people shot up Snake Eyes.”

“Exactly. Lane and Diablo are already up in Laredo. Kode’s tracking one of their trucks.”

“Are we going up there too?”

“Not yet. Don wants to wait a couple of days—they’ll be expecting us. Besides, I’d rather catch up with you first.”

Kait smiled. “I just want to get passed all the condolences and get the rest of my life started.”

Kolton leaned back, eyes softening. “I’ll bet. I’ll let everyone know that once is enough.”

“I appreciate that. So, honest… how did the table feel about me transferring?”

“Unanimous vote. We’re all excited.”

“All?”

Kolton raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Lane always has something to say about something. But he already voted yes, so that’s that. Ignore him if he starts barking. The rest know who your old man was—and what you’ve done. We’re happy you’re here.”

He paused, stepped in. “I’m happy you’re here.”

Kait smiled and put her on his chest stopping him from what may be still too early.

Throughout the night, Kait met the rest of the club—old faces, new names, same chaos. Loraine fluttered around, the perfect hostess with a flowy red skirt and a glass of whiskey.

Kolton kept chiming in, reminding everyone Kait “only lived in Denmark, and was just as American as the rest of us.”

When the sun dipped, Don, Ram, Klaus, Kolton, Randy and Kait sat in the main area chatting.

“You’ll need to earn that bottom rocker,” said Don, glancing her way. “You can keep the Denmark one for now.”

Kait nodded.

“Lane and Diablo are still tracking. Kode’s feeding them intel. Looks like the Talamantes have a small hub near the hills,” said Ram as he walked in.

“Good,” said Don.

“We’re still jet-lagged anyway,” said Klaus.

Everyone chuckled. Don turned to Kolton. “Get Kowboy on this. We’ll need him sniping.”

“I’ll call him again, but he hasn’t picked up all day,” said Kolton.

“Then go to his fucking house,” said Don.

Kolton made a face and motioned for Kait to follow.

KOWBOY'S HOUSE - LATER TAHT NIGHT

The ride out to Blaze’s place was short, the air humid and loud with crickets. Kait spotted the open garage before the bike even stopped.

Blaze stepped out—six-foot-two, broad shoulders, light brown ponytail, and that same cocky grin she remembered. “No way. Is it really you?”

“Blaze!” she said, grinning as he swept her up in a hug.

“Hot damn, you look good. When’d you get in?”

“Today. Don didn’t want to wait.”

“Yeah… heard about your dad. I’m sorry, Kait. I really am.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, rubbing his beard. “Well, welcome home.”

Kolton cleared his throat. “You got a sec, brother?”

Blaze squinted. “Let me guess—Talamantes shit?”

“Lane called you?”

“Already on it,” Blaze said. “Wednesday ride. Laredo hills.”

“Good.”

Then the voice came from the house. “Blaze! What’s going on?”

Julia stood in the doorway—barefoot, hair in a bun, wearing sweats and a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt that had seen better years.

“Hey, Julia,” Kolton said lazily.

“Who’s this?” she asked, chin jerking toward Kait.

“This is Kait,” Blaze said. “She’s back from overseas. Remember I told you?”

“Oh, right,” she interrupted. “Well, you’re supposed to be resting. Doctor said so. Not that you listen. Not that we can afford another visit because you don’t listen.”

Her tone landed like gravel. She turned and went back inside without another word.

Kait blinked. “I hear you’re riding. That’s so awesome.”

“Yeah,” Blaze muttered. “Til I only last 7 seconds and then get thrown off 10 feet in the air.”

“Oh, shit,”

“Yeah, landed right on my head,” he made a face. “Got a concussion.”

“Oh, that’s why—” Kait say pointing the way Julia left.

“Yeah,” Blaze said winking.

Kolton clapped his shoulder. “We’ll leave you to it, then. But you better drag your ass to the Nest tonight.”

Blaze cracked a grin. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll sneak out if I have to.”

BACK AT THE NEST

By the time they got back, the courtyard was alive with people everywhere. There was even the smell of smoked barbecue and Kait had no idea which of the several grills outside it was coming from.

“You wanna crash for a bit?” Kolton asked, slinging an arm around her.

“Nah.”

“Then you’re officially running on fumes.”

“Jet lag’s starting to mess with me a little, but I’m fine.”

“Good. Party starts soon.”

“I’ll need a shower first.”

Kolton smiled. “Need company?”

Kait raised an eyebrow. “Not that kind of shower.”

He smirked. “Just checking.”

He grabbed her hand.

“I’m really glad you’re home.”

She paused. “I just hope it was the right choice.”

“There wasn’t another one,” he said and let go. “I’ll come get you in a few. Gonna check on the kid real quick.”

“Alright.”

Kait stood beneath the shower with her forehead pressed against the cool tile.

Steam rolled through the small bathroom, softening the noise from outside. Even through the walls she could still hear the Nest alive beyond the room—engines revving, laughter bursting somewhere in the courtyard, muffled music from the outdoor speakers.

Home.

Or something close to it.

Hot water ran over her shoulders, washing away airport grime, rainwater, and the stale feeling of being suspended between two worlds. Denmark still clung to her in pieces. The funeral. The cemetery. The silence afterward. Her father’s coffin disappearing into wet earth.

Now here she was in Texas again, standing in Kolton’s shower while barbecue smoke drifted through an open window somewhere downstairs.

It didn’t feel real.

Jet lag had her floating half outside her own body. Her emotions weren’t much better. Excited. Hopeful. Uneasy. Every feeling tangled together until she couldn’t separate one from the next.

Kait closed her eyes beneath the water.

Maybe Kolton was right. Maybe there hadn’t been another choice. Denmark was gone. Her father was gone. The chapter was dead.

Still… a small part of her wondered if she’d just traded one graveyard for another.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Kait said, still towel-drying her hair.

Loraine peeked in, holding out a key. “You showered here? You could’ve used the house, honey.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“I made you a key anyway. You can come and go as you please.”

Kait smiled, taking it. “Thank you. Really.”

“You’ll need a few things. How about we go shopping tomorrow? Girl stuff.”

“Perfect. But I’ll probably be hungover.”

“That’s the spirit,” Loraine said, grinning. “You’re handling this better than I thought. Must be fate. You’re back where you belong.”

“Yeah… maybe.”

“Kolton’s so happy. He still loves you, you know.”

Kait looked at her, surprised. “That was a long time ago.”

“He was your first love. You were his. Things like that don’t just go away.”

Kait scoffed softly. “I can’t even think about that right now.”

“Ain’t got nothing to do with thinking,” said Loraine, voice smooth as silk. “Now—get dressed. You’ve got a welcome party in full swing out there.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

Kait stared at the key in her hand, the silver catching the light.

Back where you belong.

When Kait came down the stairs to the courtyard the Nest was humming. Engines idled out front, neon signs flickering, and the air carried that blend of fuel, beer, and sweat that only ever meant one thing—home.

Hang-arounds packed the bar. Laughter burst and died in corners. Snakeholes orbited patched members like planets with their own gravity.

Don arrived with Klaus and Ram, boots echoing on concrete. When he called for church, Ozzy’sNo More Tearsdipped to a low rumble, and patched members filed into the chapel.

glanced over the table—polished dark wood carved with decades of initials and burn marks.

Four empty chairs that belonged to Lane, Kode, Blaze and Diablo.

The chapel looked different now with more members. Kait mapped out the table the way a soldier studies a battlefield—by position first, bodies second. She memorized the layout Kolton gave her earlier.

Don held the head, the President’s chair carved into the wood by weight and years.Randy, the Keeper, anchored the opposite end, quiet and steady as a counterbalance.

Between them ran nine side chairs—used to be four per side—forming the spine of the club.

Clockwise from Don:

Lane’s seat came first on his left—the Sergeant-at-Arms position, empty tonight.Next came Mack, the Road Captain.Beside him sat Diablo’s chair, also empty.Then Ram’s spot halfway down the table.At the far end sat Randy, the Club’s Keeper.Coming back up the other side:Klaus, the Vice President, sat to Don’s right, exactly where a second-in-command should be.Beside him was Blaze’s seat, then Kode’s. Both empty as well.Next came Kait, settling into the place Don had marked for her—the one that made the table uneven.And finally Kolton, rounding out the line.

Even with people missing, the order was unmistakable.Every chair meant something. Every member unique and invaluable.

Don’s voice snapped her focus back.

“Okay—the boys are back. Lane and Diablo will join us later—they’re checking on Snake Eyes. We’re set for Wednesday. Tomorrow’s rest. Wednesday morning, we meet here to finalize.”

He looked around the table. “So it’s gonna be Lane, Diablo, Kolton, Ram, Mack, Blaze, Kode, me… and our guest of honor.”

All eyes turned toward her. Kait nodded once—no smile, no false modesty.

“Keeper?” Don asked.

Randy sighed. “Drive-by spooked folks, so bail’s gonna be slow for a while. Got all the dues for the month. Including our new transfer,” he said smiling at Kait.

She bowed her head.

“Good enough,” Don said, then smirked. “Now let’s give this cool chick a proper Krait welcome.”

He hit the gavel. The room erupted—bottles clinked, boots stomped, hands clapped her shoulders.

For the first time that day, Kait smiled.

Not because she felt accepted—

Because she’d earned it.

Later, the music was louder, the lights dimmer, and the air thick with beer and smoke. Kait studied her new crew.

Ram was exactly what they’d said—violent, magnetic, impossible to ignore. Don carried himself like a general. Klaus and Mack had claimed a corner table, laughing with two girls half their age. Blaze arrived and she sat with them, watching the brotherhood move around her like gears in a familiar machine.

They traded old stories and bad jokes. Blaze talked about his wife and the constant fight between family and loyalty.

“Shit,” Kait said, raising her beer. “Dead dad, messy divorce, a concussion… Aren’t we a fun bunch?”

Blaze lifted his bottle. “Best table in the joint.”

“Guess shit can only get better from here,” said Kolton.

Blaze laughed but didn’t disagree. He left soon after, saying he’d “find a way to sneak out again,” and it was just Kait and Kolton under the dim terrace lights.

“I’ll be back,” she said, standing. “Need a smoke. Left them in the bike’s pouch.”

“Cool. I’m gonna take a leak.”

Outside, the air buzzed with engines and shouting. Creeping Death thundered from the outdoor speakers, the solo swallowed by revving motors and raised voices. Someone gunned an engine for a race; a couple argued near the fence. Kait was halfway to her borrowed bike when a hang-around stumbled into her, sloshing beer down the front of her kutte.

“Shit, I’m sorry!”

“Damn it, man—my kutte,” she muttered, biting back irritated.

“I got it, Kait!” called Melanie—the same girl who’d handed her a beer earlier. She held out a bar towel. “I can clean it up for you. I do this every day.”

“Guard it with your life,” Kait said, shrugging out of the kutte and handing it over.

Next came her white t-shirt. She dried her chest with it and handed to her as well.

“Right on!” said the guy who bumped into her and good view of her cleavage.

“I’ll be quick, I’ll have it done in a—.”

Kait walked away from them and headed to the line of bikes in the parking lot, she went to the one Don had let her borrow and began searching the pouches.

Then a voice behind her—low, sharp.

“Hey!”

She turned halfway.

“You stealing from Krait?”

Kait blinked, half-laughing. “No, asshole. This is my bike.”

“The fuck it is.”

He closed the distance fast, grabbed her wrist, and spun her to face him.

She froze.

The voice belonged to a mountain of a man—all hard lines and squared posture, sandy blond hair cut short. His eyes were an impossible, icy blue. And those eyes were locked on hers.

Took her a second to recognize him.

Lane.