His Unwanted Peace Offering: Claiming Eleanor

“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.”