Page 2 of Rogue’s Reckoning

Curiosity gets the better of me and I flip it open. Inside, I find class schedules, lesson plans, and notes about child development. But it's the name scrawled on the inside cover that catches my attention: Willow Bennett.

Willow... Even her name is soft and delicate.

I should leave it here. Let the bartender deal with it. But before I know it, I'm pocketing the notebook, already forming a plan to return it to its owner.

As I head out into the dark night, I can't help but feel like I'm crossing a line. But for the first time in years, I find myself not giving a damn about the consequences.

Little do I know, this small act is about to set in motion a chain of events that will change everything. The war with the Hawks, the delicate balance of power in our little corner of the world, and my own carefully constructed life—it's all about to be turned upside down. And it all starts with a shy smile and a forgotten notebook.

The ride back to the clubhouse is a blur, my mind caught between thoughts of the impending conflict with the Shadow Hawks and the mysterious Willow. The leather-bound notebook feels like it's burning a hole in my cut—a tangible reminder of the line I'm about to cross.

As I pull into the compound, the familiar sight of bikes lined up and the raucous laughter spilling from the clubhouse should set me at ease. But tonight, it all feels different. Off-kilter.

I park my Harley and make my way inside, nodding to the prospects manning the bar. The main room is alive with activity—brothers drinking and laughing; a few crow eaters vying for attention. It's a scene I've been a part of countless times, but tonight, I feel like an outsider looking in.

"Rogue!" Hades calls out, raising his beer in greeting. "Come join us, brother. We're celebrating Savage's birthday."

I force a grin and make my way over to the group. "Happy birthday, man," I say, clapping Savage on the back. "Let me grab a beer, and I'll be right with you."

As I head to the bar, I feel someone’s eyes on me. Turning, I see Ghost by the door, watching me. I’m not surprised he followed me home. I ignore his stare and grab a beer from theprospect and take a long pull, trying to shake off this strange feeling.

"You good?" Ghost asks, sidling up next to me.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The notebook in my cut feels heavier by the second.

Ghost leans in, his voice low. "Look, I know that girl got under your skin, but you gotta focus, brother. This thing with the Hawks... it's gonna get ugly. We need you sharp."

"I know," I growl, frustration seeping into my tone. "I've got my head in the game. Don't worry about me."

Ghost holds my gaze a moment longer, his blue eyes gleaming with the will to challenge me, to question my state of mind, but he thinks better of it and looks away, nodding.. "Alright. Just remember who you are, Rogue. What this cut means."

As he walks away, his words echo in my head. Who am I? For as long as I can remember, I've been Rogue—the enforcer, the protector, the brother who can be counted on when things get rough. Now, for the first time in years, I'm questioning if that's all there is to me.

I excuse myself from the party, claiming a headache. In the privacy of my room, I pull out Willow's notebook. My fingers trace over her name, and I find myself wondering about her. What's her story? What kind of life does she lead, so far removed from the chaos of my world?

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pull out my burner phone and dial a number. "Yeah?" a gruff voice on the other end says.

"Bones, it's Rogue. I need you to run a name for me. Off the books."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. Bones is our tech guy, capable of digging up dirt on anyone. But he knows a request like this, especially off the books, is unusual.

"Alright," he says finally. "What's the name?"

"Willow Bennett," I reply, my voice low even though I'm alone in my room.

I hear the clacking of the keyboard as Bones gets to work. "It’s gonna take a bit of time. I'll call you back when I've got something."

"Thanks, brother," I say, and end the call.

I toss the phone on my bed and run a hand through my hair. What the hell am I doing? This girl, this Willow, she's nothing to me; just a pretty face in a bar. Yet, something about her has gotten under my skin in a way I can't explain.

I try to distract myself by cleaning my guns. It’s a task that usually calms my mind, but tonight it does little to quiet my storm of thoughts. By the time my phone buzzes, an hour later, I'm wound tight as a spring.

"Talk to me," I growl into the phone.

"Willow Bennett," Bones starts, his voice all business. "Nineteen years old. Student at Oakridge University, majoring in Education. Works part-time at a local daycare. Clean record, not so much as a parking ticket."

I absorb the information, trying to piece together a picture of her life. It's as far from my world as you can get.

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