They were people. People with their own stories, their own pain. Can I tell you about Hawk? Reaper asked suddenly. Please, Arthur said.
He was 5 years older than me. Practically raised me after our dad left. Mom worked three jobs just to keep us fed. So Hawk was the one who made sure I did my homework, made sure I ate dinner, made sure the kids at school didn't mess with me. She smiled through her tears.
He joined the Hell's Angels when he was 20. I was 15. Scared me to death at first, but he said the club was family. Said they'd protect me, too, just because I was his sister. And did they?
Arthur asked. Every single one of them, Reaper said, gesturing around the room. When I turned 18 and wanted to prospect, wanted to join up half the chapter, tried to talk me out of it, said it was too dangerous for a woman. But Hawk backed me up, said I was tougher than most of the men. And he was right.
I made it through. Earned my patch. And these guys, her voice broke. These guys became my brothers and sisters for real. Not just Hawk.
All of them. Razer spoke up from the corner. Hawk was the best of us. Never started fights, but never backed down from one either. Would give you his last dollar if you needed it.
Would ride through hell for any member of this club. He did ride through hell, Diesel added quietly. Tonight, that storm was hell, and he rode right into it with the rest of us. He just didn't make it out. But he would have wanted us to, Reaper said.
He would have wanted us to survive. And Mr. Hail, he would have wanted us to thank you properly, to make sure you knew what your sacrifice meant. It wasn't a sacrifice, Arthur protested. It was just It was everything, Silas said, his voice hard with emotion.
Mr. Hail, I've been riding for 23 years. I've seen men die. I've seen brothers go down in crashes, in fights from overdoses, and cancer, and just plain bad luck. And every single time, it tears a piece out of me.
Tonight, we lost Hawk. That piece is gone. But we didn't lose 18 others. We didn't lose Reaper or Jax or Diesel or any of these people I die for. That's because of you.
Silus is right. A new voice said one of the bikers Arthur hadn't talked to much. A woman with silver hair and a scarred cheek. I'm Snake been riding for 16 years. Got two kids at home in Billings, 10 and 12.
They're going to have a mom come home because you wouldn't quit. You know what that's worth? You know what you gave them. Arthur didn't trust himself to speak. And I got a fiance.
Jax added, "We're supposed to get married in June. She's going to have a husband because you dragged my frozen ass out of the snow. " That's not nothing, Mr. Hail. That's everything. One by one, they went around the room.
Each biker told Arthur what he'd saved tonight, who was waiting for them at home, what they'd have missed if they died in his driveway. Diesel had three grandkids he was teaching to ride. Razer had a mom in a nursing home who he visited every Sunday. A biker named Ghost was two weeks away from getting his 5-year sobriety chip. A woman called Tiny had just started nursing school.
Another man Torch was coaching little league baseball. They weren't just bikers. They were fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, people with lives and futures and people who love them. And Arthur had saved all of it. By the time they finished, the sun was starting to come up.
Gray light filtered through the windows, showing a world buried in white. The storm had finally passed. "We should get the bikes," Silas said, standing and stretching. "His movements were still stiff, still showing the effects of last night, but he was alive. They were all alive. " "I'll help," Arthur said.
"No," Silas said firmly. "You're going to rest. You almost died last night, Mr. Hail, multiple times. You're going to sit in this chair and drink coffee and let us handle this. " But no butts, Reaper said.
You saved us. Now let us take care of you for a change. Arthur wanted to argue, but his body was screaming at him to stay put. His chest hurt. His legs hurt.
Everything hurt. He was 80 years old, and he'd pulled 19 people through a blizzard. Maybe sitting down wasn't the worst idea. The bikers bundled up and headed out into the snow. Through the window, Arthur watched them dig out their motorcycles, work together to ride the fallen bikes, check for damage.
They moved like a welloiled machine, everyone knowing their role, working in sync. Jack stayed behind. Someone should keep you company, the kid said. Make sure you don't keel over while we're gone. I'm not going to keel over.
That's what you said before your heart stopped last night, Jax pointed out. So, forgive me if I don't take your word for it. Arthur had to smile at that. Fair enough. They sat in comfortable silence for a while.
Arthur drank coffee. Jax kept glancing at Hawk's covered body on the couch, his face troubled. First time you've seen someone die? Arthur asked gently. "Yeah," Jax admitted.
"I mean, my grandpa died when I was little, but that was different. That was expected. This? " He trailed off. Hawk was laughing yesterday, making jokes about the weather, and now he's just gone. "Deaths like that sometimes," Arthur said.
"It doesn't make a payments, doesn't give you time to prepare. It just comes. " How do you deal with it? After your wife, after Sarah, how did you keep going? Arthur thought about that. Thought about the 3 years since Sarah died.
The long empty nights, the mornings when he couldn't remember why he should get out of bed. Honestly, some days I didn't want to keep going. Some days it felt easier to just stop. But I made her a promise. And I'm a man who keeps his promises.
He looked at Jax. You find something to hold on to, something bigger than your grief. For me, it was that promise for you. Maybe it's your fiance. Maybe it's the club.
Maybe it's just waking up every morning and choosing to be here one more day. That sounds hard. It is hard, but nothing worth doing is easy. Outside, someone shouted. Arthur and Jax both jumped up.
Well, Jax jumped up. Arthur levered himself out of his chair with a groan and looked out the window. The bikers had gotten all 19 motorcycles upright and were checking them over. But they weren't alone anymore. Three pickup trucks were coming up Arthur's long driveway, pushing through the snow, their headlights cutting through the morning gray.
"Who's that? " Jax asked, his hand automatically going to his belt where his knife wasn't anymore. "Don't know," Arthur said. "But something in his gut twisted. The trucks looked official. The kind of official that came with bad news. " Silas was already walking toward the trucks, his posture tense.
The other bikers formed up behind him, not threatening exactly, but not welcoming either. A wall of leather and loyalty between Arthur's farm and whoever was coming. The lead truck stopped. A man got out. 50-ish wearing an expensive coat over an expensive suit, the kind of clothes that said money and power in equal measure.
He looked at the bikers at the motorcycles at Arthur's farmhouse. Then he smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made Arthur's blood run cold. The kind of smile that said, "I'm about to ruin your day, and there's nothing you can do about it. " "Arthur Hail," the man called out. Arthur opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. The cold hit him like a slap, but he didn't retreat.
"This was his land, his home. He'd be damned if he'd hide inside. " "I'm Arthur Hail, Thomas Beckman," the man said, walking closer. "I represent Horizon Development Corporation. I believe you received our foreclosure notice. I did, Arthur said carefully.
Got 90 days to pay. Actually, Beckman said his smile widening. That's what I'm here about. There's been a change in timeline. Arthur's heart did that skip thing again.
What kind of change? We're accelerating the foreclosure. You now have 72 hours to vacate the property. The words hung in the cold morning air like knives. You can't do that, Arthur said, but he heard the uncertainty in his own voice.
The notice said 90 days. The notice was contingent on certain conditions. Conditions you violated. Beckman pulled out a folder made a show of flipping through papers. Unauthorized occupancy of the property by Mario.
He looked at the bikers. Let's call them questionable individuals. Use of the property for potentially illegal activity. Failure to maintain adequate insurance. I could go on.