Crash hadn’t joined Devil’s Hollow because it looked exciting. He joined because he needed the money. Needed family and support.
“He talks about them all the time.” She said smiling sadly.
“The club?” I asked and she nodded.
“He said they saved us.” She said.
I sat there quietly for a second because for all the violence and chaos and insanity, maybe they had.
Maybe Devil’s Hollow wasn’t just a motorcycle club. Maybe it was something bigger. Something messier and real. By the time I left, my chest felt heavier than before. And somehow I understood the club better too.
Not the businesses and not the violence but the loyalty. That part finally made sense.
When I returned to the clubhouse later that afternoon Roman sat alone near the garage working on one of the surviving bikes a
