Page 32 of Arch
A few days have passed since we took down the Vipers, since Jinx’s betrayal cut us deep and Arch’s arms around me stitched something new together inside me.
I’m still bruised, my cheek sporting a cut that’s starting to scar, but the pain’s a reminder of what I’ve earned.
I went into that warehouse a reckless kid, half-ready to bolt, and came out with Arch’s trust, his love, and a place in this family.
I’m not patched yet—Clay says that takes time, proving yourself over months, not days—but I’m no longer on the outside looking in…
I’m here, and I’mstaying.
Arch is across the room, talking low with Clay, his hair catching the light, his leather jacket hugging his broad, strong shoulders.
Arch is every inch a leader of men, the strategist who kept us alive against the Vipers, but when his eyes find mine, there’s something softer there, something just for me.
My pulse kicks up, same as it did that first night at The Ring when I called him Daddy to mess with him, not knowing it’d spark something real. I’m not fighting it anymore, that pull between us.
I’m not running. Not tonight. Not any night from here on out.
I sip my beer, letting my mind wander back over the last week. I came to Willow Creek lost, kicked out of the Army with a dishonorable discharge burning a hole in my pride.
Two years of thinking I’d found my place… only to lose it with one bad punch, one wrong move.
I was twenty-two, aimless, with nothing but a bike and a temper. Willow Creek was just a pitstop, a place to crash before I tore off to nowhere.
Then Arch happened.
He saw through my bullshit, saw the potential I didn’t even believe in, and instead of writing me off, he challenged me. Pushed me. Made me want to be more than the screw-up I thought I was.
That night at The Ring, I was all bravado, throwing punches and smirking like I owned the world.
But Arch’s voice—“You’re in my town, Keegan”—cut through me like a blade, and his presence woke something up I didn’t know was sleeping.
I fought it, sure.
Kept mouthing off, kept pushing, because that’s what I do.
But every time he pinned me with those eyes, every time he growled “boy” like it was a promise, I felt it—the chance to belong, to behis.
The Wolf Riders aren’t just a club… they’re a family, bound by blood and trust, and Arch’s offering me a place in it.
That spanking outside the clubhouse, my ass red and stinging while the crew watched, should’ve broken me. Instead, it grounded me, made me see I could take his rules, his discipline, and come out stronger.
And when I went into that warehouse, got the intel, got out alive, I proved it—to him, to myself.
I’m not the same Keegan who rolled into Willow Creek. I’m still reckless, still mouthy, but I’ve got purpose now. Arch gave me that, and I’ll spend every damn day proving I’m worth it.
Back in the here and now, the music dips, and Clay’s voice booms over the crowd, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Alright, you bastards, listen up!” He’s standing on a chair, his grin wide, Dylan beaming beside him. “We’ve got something to celebrate tonight. The Vipers are gone, their operation burned to the ground, thanks in no small part to our boy Keegan and his ballsy recon work.”
The room erupts in cheers, fists pounding tables, and I feel my face heat, not used to this kind of attention.
Tank raises his beer, shouting, “To Keegan, the crazy sonofabitch who took on Rico and lived!”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and I grin, raising my bottle in return.
But it’s Arch’s movement that catches my eye. He steps forward, his presence commanding the room without effort, and the noise quiets, every eye on him.
My heart thuds, because I know that look—he’s got something to say, and it’s big…
