Page 5 of Fear

When they finally slowed, the bike rumbled onto a long dirt road, the scent of pine and motor oil thick in the air. She lifted her head slightly, blinking through the dust as the clubhouse came into view. It was larger than she had expected, built from dark, aged wood with reinforced steel along the sides. The building itself was surrounded by garages and smaller cabins, and several motorcycles were parked in uneven rows along the gravel lot. A large iron gate stood open, a symbol of security but also warning.

Her stomach twisted as she took in the people standing outside. Men with leather cuts emblazoned with the Wolverine MC insignia stood in groups, some smoking, some talking in low voices. Their eyes flicked toward her as Dash’s bike rolled in, curiosity flashing in their expressions. The women stood near the entrance, just as intimidating in their own right, their expressions sharp, assessing.

Sofia’s hands tightened around the seat. Everything about this place screamed danger, dominance, a world she didn’t belong to. But she had no choice. Alaska had promised her safety, and this was the only place she could find it.

As the bike came to a stop, Sofia hesitated before swinging her leg over, her body stiff from exhaustion and tension. She could feel the weight of their stares as she pulled off the helmet, her fingers trembling slightly. She hated this feeling—being watched, being judged.

Alaska was already there, stepping forward before Sofia could fully gather herself.

"Jesus, Sof," Alaska murmured, pulling her into a tight hug. "You look like hell."

Sofia let herself melt into the embrace, the familiar scent of leather and vanilla grounding her. "I feel like hell."

Alaska pulled back, her sharp gaze scanning Sofia’s face, taking in the exhaustion, the bruises that still lingered faintly along her jaw. "You’re safe now. I promise."

Before Sofia could respond, another voice broke through the moment. "Alaska, are you bringing strays home now?"

Sofia turned to see a man approaching—tall, broad, with a confident stride that said he owned the space around him. His vest read Dixon, and his sharp green eyes studied her with mild interest, but not in a way that made her feel uneasy. If anything, he looked more amused than anything.

"She’s not a stray," Alaska shot back. "She’s family."

Dixon lifted a brow before nodding. "Then she’s under club protection. That’s all that matters."

Sofia shifted uncomfortably as more people gathered around, faces she didn’t know, names she didn’t recognize. A womanwith striking dark hair and soft brown eyes stepped forward—Dakota, if she remembered the name Alaska had mentioned. Beside her was Siena, blonde, tall, her expression softer but still cautious. Sofia had spent hours on the phone with Alaska, even though she didn’t know these people personally she felt like she knew who they were from Alaska’s description of them.

"We’ll get you cleaned up," Dakota said gently, as if sensing Sofia’s unease. "Come inside, away from all the testosterone."

But Sofia wasn’t listening anymore. Because the moment she turned, the moment she looked beyond the crowd, she saw him.

A massive figure stood at the far end of the lot, his stance rigid, his gaze locked onto her like a predator scenting its prey. He was broader than any man she had ever seen, his arms thick with muscle, his dark hair slightly tousled, giving him a rugged, dangerous look. His eyes—golden, intense—burned into her with an emotion so raw it made her stomach twist.

Sofia’s breath caught. The world around her blurred, fading into the background as his gaze held her captive. There was something there, something primal and overwhelming, something that made her body react before her mind could process it.

He must be Goliath, Alaska had mentioned how he suited his name.

He hadn’t moved, but she could feel the energy radiating off of him, something almost electric. She didn’t understand it, but deep down, something told her she had just stepped into something far more dangerous than she could ever comprehend.

***

The second she stepped off the bike, he knew.

His wolf snarled inside him, clawing, demanding, claiming. His vision tunnelled, locking onto the fragile woman standing in the lot, her scent reaching him even from a distance. It was intoxicating—something sweet, something warm, something his.

Mate.

The word slammed into him like a freight train. He had spent years watching as his brothers found their mates, had told himself he didn’t need one, that he was fine without that kind of bond. But now, looking at her, he knew he had been lying to himself all along.

The wolf’s possessiveness was immediate, intense. Protect her. Claim her. Kill for her.

She was scared. He could see it in the way her hands trembled, the way she scanned the people around her like a caged animal looking for an escape. His gut tightened. No one was ever going to make her feel that way again. Not while he was breathing.

His body moved before his mind could stop it, his boots crunching against the gravel as he closed the distance. He barely registered the way the other men stiffened, sensing the shift in the air. They weren’t stupid. They knew what was happening.

"Goliath," Dixon called warily. "Brother—"

He ignored him, his focus solely on her. When he stopped just a few feet away, she looked up at him, those stunning blue eyes wide with uncertainty, with something else he couldn’t place.

He opened his mouth, but when she spoke first, it hit him like a punch to the chest.

---