His Unwanted Peace Offering: Claiming Eleanor

Chapter 6

Word Count: 707 | Released on: 22/09/2026

nor

ther draped back over my shoulders, and tucked the hem into my waistband.

gid, his hands resting on the edge of the wood as if phy

I did. He was furious that politics had force

ing misery, I was worse off than he was, wasn't I? If this

y this arrangement," I said, my voice sh

ned around, the empty bourbon glass rest

stance, stopping just outside arm's reach. "You took me to stop a bloodbath on the state

Interstate riots. I pulled you out. You owe me a life, Dexter. That's the only r

rds scattering across the polished floorboards. A tiny bead of cri

hing him lose control. A man who couldn't eve

stepping toward me with terrifying slowness

"I'll stand beside you at Church, I'll wear your bottom rocker, and I'll give the club the illusion of ab

boots. A dark, humorless chuc

ing into mine like twin drill bits. "Did you forget w

away from his intense heat. "We tell the charte

my chin, forcing my face back up to meet his gaze. His touch was firm, inescapable

h rough familiarity. "If you walk out of this room tomorrow morning without my scent on your skin

ath hi

thal, gravelly timber. "And in this world, a woman who isn't under the President's

ike a bucket of ice water. The outlaw

y pride was a useless shield against t

he heavy brass buckle of his tactical belt. The metal clicked open with a sharp, fin

into the fabric of my trousers, real

Chapter End

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His Unwanted Peace Offering: Claiming Eleanor

Wu Xiaoyan Mafia

“To save our bleeding alliance, I was handed over to the rival Iron Bastards MC as a living peace offering. I was forced to become the claimed Old Lady of their ruthless President, Dexter Fulton, a man who ran the northern corridor by putting rival charters in the ground. On my first night in his fortress, he violently ripped my family's colors from my chest. He pinned me to the wall, declaring I belonged to him now, forcing his mark on me just to satisfy his club's barbaric rules. The next morning, he treated me like invisible garbage in front of his men, leaving me to face the humiliation of being a bought-and-paid-for trophy. "He's a butcher, El. You'll be a hostage in a den of rabid dogs." My best friend's warning echoed in my head. I was destined to be broken and buried like the outlaw women before me. But I didn't understand why, behind closed doors, his terrifying dominance masked a desperate, agonizing restraint. He didn't break me. He took cold showers and slept in a chair, refusing to share the bed. Why did he claim me so fiercely, only to ice me out the moment we were alone? I refused to be a passive victim waiting for the slaughter. If I had to survive in his cage, I was going to be the one setting the rules. I walked straight into his office, looked the deadliest man in the valley in the eye, and banned him from his own bed.”