Return Of The Lethal Unwanted Heiress

Chapter 5

Word Count: 863 | Released on: Today at 16:33

l music vibrated through t

t through the thick clouds of exhaust fumes and dust. Hundreds of people screa

akes hard, throwing the bike into a vicious tailwhip. The rear tire

ane, Graham held a pair of military-grade binoculars to his

the crowd. He was a massive wall of muscle, chewing on

ront tire. He blew a cloud of

oice booming over the engine noise. "A hick trying to ta

er hands on the handlebars. She slowly lifted

owd we

reached into his leather vest and slam

a turf bet. Whoever loses, their crew i

t rate remained perfectly steady. She need

ified supercar rigged with a massive nitrous oxide sys

looked like a

f the track. She raised a red flag high above he

pped th

o the dirt, launching the heavy vehicle forward like a m

e smoothly rolled the throttle. The bike launched forwa

gripped the railing. "Sh

he binoculars. "She's not choking. She's testin

g into the 'Reaper's Scythe'-a brutal hairpin turn with a solid

rd into the inside lane to block he

didn't

locked. The motorcycle let out a

their eyes. She was going too fast.

ed horizontally, the footpegs sparking violently against the asphalt. She

exhaust pipe scraped against the metal guardrail. A massive shower of

ike practically defying gravity. Panic seized his chest. He jerked

past him li

ahead of him. The digital timer on the o

nt. Then, the crowd erupt

His breathing stopped. His hands gripped the m

lane overtake. He had seen it before. Fo

d. The ghost he had b

helmet, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She walked straight o

dow and snatched the two-million

The Azure Syndicate is do

oved the check into her jacket,

est heaved. He twisted his pinky ring, a

you," he

Chapter End

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Return Of The Lethal Unwanted Heiress

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“Allison was hiding in a dusty small-town garage, working as a mechanic to suppress the lethal, experimental serum freezing her veins. But a call from her estranged, wealthy father shattered her peace. He threatened to permanently freeze her dead mother's trust fund if she didn't return to the family estate immediately. That trust fund held the only key to the truth behind her past and her survival. When she stepped into the sprawling mansion in her faded hoodie, her family treated her like a stray dog. Her stepmother mocked her cheap clothes, and her half-brother called her a piece of trash. Her father tossed a vocational school enrollment form at her, telling her to learn to sew so they could marry her off to anyone desperate enough. Her perfect, porcelain-doll stepsister Gwyneth even deliberately smashed a glass of boiling milk against her own leg. "Why did you push me?!" Gwyneth screamed, crying tears of fake terror to frame Allison. "You vicious bitch! You're just as sick as your mother!" her father roared, raising his hand to strike her. They looked at her with absolute disgust, thinking she was just a stupid, uncultured hick they could easily manipulate and destroy. They had no idea that the girl standing before them was a lethal operative who already possessed all their offshore tax ledgers and darkest secrets. Allison easily caught her father's wrist mid-air, her grip like a steel vice. "I'm not going to a trade school," she whispered coldly, ripping the form into pieces. "I am going to Crestwood Academy." It was time to take back everything that belonged to her, with interest.”