The Biker Alpha's Contract Mate: The Hidden Heiress

Chapter 3

Word Count: 748 | Released on: Today at 15:04

hne

itimate trucking and custom-bike front that funded the club's weapons and m

screen: "Fifty million wired to your black card. Starline fleets are on standby. Find out

k into my pocket and pushed o

f the club girls who poured drinks and warmed beds without ever earning a permanent claim or a line in the

ed a stack of greasy clipboards onto the metal desk. "Surviving one night at the h

ment?" I asked, i

a red skull and slapped it against my chest. "Bay Two. You're prepping an

e wall and speak only when spoken to-sucked in collective breaths. One whispered that Emmanuel was a hot-headed Patched Member,

rvation deck, I caught the faint scent of cedar and whiskey. Darrell wa

ss the grease-stained concrete, and sho

arley painted with silver-white flames. A muscular young man covered in ink stood shirtl

touches my carburetor gets his neck snapped!" Emm

oil into the light, the heavy wrench slipped

s ambush had left him with shattered ribs and a punctured lung. I had stitched him up and rebuilt his wrecked eng

throat bobbed, his knee

c. "Mr. Hurley, I'm the new dispatch assistant assigne

ike a drilled recruit, his chest heav

seconds flat. The high-speed engine resonance that had stumped the club's mechanics was coming from an uneven

ared to life with a s

. Down on the floor, the club's most violent star rider was trotting behind me li

the gloves onto the bench. "Try not to

d loud enough for the whole shop to hear, "Miss Daphne, you're riding

Chapter End

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The Biker Alpha's Contract Mate: The Hidden Heiress

Kattie Eaton Werewolf

“I was forced into a ninety-day probationary contract as the Old Lady of Darrell Sexton, the Alpha Prez of the Iron Claw MC. Hiding my rare White Wolf bloodline under a dead, human-like scent, the entire pack treated me like worthless country trash. His jealous club girls hated me, and one night, they finally made their move. They tricked me into a condemned, remote warehouse in the freight yard and padlocked the heavy iron doors from the outside. When the lights suddenly died, plunging me into pitch-blackness, the trauma of being locked in a blood-soaked underground pit ten years ago violently triggered. Suffocating, trembling, and bleeding from a bad fall in the dark, I pulled out my phone. With exactly one percent battery left, I texted an "SOS" to the only person on this territory strong enough to tear down those iron doors-Darrell. But half a mile away in the roaring Clubhouse, Darrell glanced at the message from my unsaved number. Assuming it was just another desperate club girl playing games for his attention, he let out a cold sneer. "Looks like another desperate club girl playing stupid games." He locked the screen and flipped his phone face-down on the bar without a second thought. As my screen went permanently black and I lay gasping for air on the freezing, oil-slicked concrete floor, the agonizing truth crushed my chest. He didn't care, and he wasn't coming. Right before the darkness swallowed my consciousness completely, the last shred of my patience died. Darrell Sexton, I will never forgive you for this. When I get out of here, I'm tearing up this contract, and this arrogant pack will learn exactly what kind of monster they just woke up.”