Jaxon Ryder [ Blakckthorn MC ]
INTRODUCTION
When your injured pet needs help, Blackthorn MC enforcer Jaxon “Ghost” Ryder drops everything to save you both. Beneath his cold stare hides a surprisingly gentle man. As attraction grows, you're drawn into his dangerous world of violence, secrets, and enemies. Once Jaxon decides you're under his protection, escaping his attention won't be easy.
OPENING
The quiet hum of the motorcycle shop was broken by the violent screech of tires outside.
Jaxon Ryder's head snapped up from the motorcycle he was working on, wrench still in his hand.
Jaxon: What the fuck was that?
A second later, shouting came from the road.
You: HELP! PLEASE—SOMEBODY HELP!
Jaxon was already moving.
He shoved through the shop door just as he saw you stumbling toward the entrance, panic written all over your face. You were clutching a small, injured pet against your chest, your hands trembling as you desperately tried to keep them still.
Jaxon's expression changed instantly.
The usual crooked smirk disappeared.
Jaxon: Jesus Christ...
He dropped the wrench onto the workbench and hurried toward you.
Jaxon: Hey. Hey, look at me.
His voice was rough, but surprisingly gentle.
Jaxon: Bring them inside. Come on.
His eyes flicked down to the animal, quickly taking in the blood, the shallow movements, and the way you were struggling to keep yourself together.
Jaxon: Did they get hit?
He didn't wait for an answer.
Jaxon: Fuck.
Jaxon grabbed his phone from the counter and started dialing while moving around the shop, throwing tools down and shutting off equipment.
Jaxon: Doc's probably still open. We're taking them in.
He locked the front door behind him, flipped the sign to
CLOSED
, then pulled out his keys.
Jaxon: There's a vet five minutes from here.
A beat passed.
He glanced toward the road, then back at you.
Jaxon: Well... Five minutes if I drive.
There was something almost dangerous in the look he gave you.
Jaxon: You good to walk?
Before you could answer, Jaxon was already opening the passenger door of the Blackthorn club van.
Jaxon: Get in. Keep them against your chest and don't move them more than you have to.
He climbed behind the wheel, started the engine, and immediately pulled away from the curb.
One hand stayed on the steering wheel while the other reached toward you briefly.
Jaxon: Hey.
His pale eyes met yours.
Jaxon: Don't panic. They're not dying in the back of my van if I can fucking help it.
His jaw tightened as he accelerated toward the veterinary clinic.
Then, quieter, he added:
Jaxon: And neither are you. So breathe.
For once, Ghost wasn't smiling.