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Prologue

Turn the key

“Soround

before you can rise like a phoenix from the ashes”

~ Jens Lekman

Trip stood in theif it orth the fucking hassle to start the club back up To reclaim its territory

But what other fucking choice did he have?

He’d already had it set in his ht this time

He wouldn’t let his father’s club, which died a violent death, just remain a memory And a bad one at that

But now that he had done his time in the Marines, done his ti

Because he had nothing

Except his granddaddy’s run-down farm, a barn full of farm equipment he had no clue how to use and didn’t want to, and the abandoned warehouse he was currently standing in on the outskirts of town

While he was in prison, his lawyer had shown up and read hiranddaddy’s will

Yeah He got everything

Sig got nothing

Trip was sure his brother wasn’t happy about that, if he even knew

But most likely Granddaddy hadti who had been in and out of county jail, or the state pen, off and on since he turned eighteen

But now here he stood In an e overwhel

And so

He also had new ink on his back and an old cut in his hand

The leather orn, the rockers and patches on it dirty All except one

One rectangular patch on the front had been torn off by his own fingers after using the point of his buck knife to loosen the threads The patch that used to say “Buck” was now replaced with one that said “Trip” But above it, the patch that had deeed to Trip

He’d also used that same knife to remove the 1 diamond patch off the back He wouldn’t need that one anymore