Chapter 5

Ariana’s POV

Days bled into weeks. Weeks bled into months. My life became a never-ending cycle of torment and humiliation.

Once I was the Valenti-moon club princess, the old ladies kissed my cheek and the patched brothers bowed their heads when I walked past.


Now I’m the clubhouse rat.

I scrub the bar until my knuckles split, cook for hang-arounds who spit in my food, haul cases of beer while they laugh and call me “Prez-killer.” If I slow down, a prospect’s belt finds my back. If I talk back, Victoire  signs off worse.

Every night I fall onto a cot in the storage room that smells like oil and old cum, and every morning I wake up to the sound of Liam’s bike roaring in with Elena on the back, her arms around his waist, her lips on his neck, the whole club cheering like they’re already King and Queen.

Elena, with her sweet smile and pretentious charming ways, had won them over. She would soon be crowned, and I would be left with nothing.

They announced it last week: Elena will be crowned First Lady at the next full-moon run. My crown. My club. My everything.

I’m on my knees in the club kitchen, scrubbing blood and beer off the tile with a brush that’s more rust than bristles. Sweat drips into my eyes, mixing with the sting of bleach.

“Funny how life works,” one of the sweet-butts sneers, kicking the bucket so filthy water splashes across my cut-offs. “From daddy’s little princess to clubhouse piss-mop.”

I glanced at her briefly and continued with my work, I knew she was trying to make me lose it but I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

"What? Do you want to talk back to me or do you want to kill me as you killed your  father?" She raged and viciously shoved me.

I hit my head on the floor, I grunted, and I felt a liquid gush down my face from my temple. Blood.

The maids in the kitchen all faced me, their eyes flashing, they were hyenas ready to pounce on their target.

I knew they were hungry to attack me, but I continued my work nonetheless.

Another one grabs my hair, yanks my head back. “What, murderer? Got nothing to say? Or are you planning to poison us like you did the old man?”

A boot slams into my ribs. Another cracks against my shoulder. I bite my tongue so hard I taste copper, because if I shift,if I let my wolf out,they’ll chain me in silver and call it proof I’m feral.

"She thinks she will become President and rule over us after killing our president, she's evil," another one hissed beside me, and she kicked my rib.

I moaned painfully, trying to hold back my tears, but their ridicule and kicks were relentless.

"Murderer! You're nothing but a slave, fit only for cleaning and cooking," someone hissed as she yanked my hair tauntingly.

I whimpered, and when I was not able to take it anymore I dashed out of the kitchen into the pouring rain.

"Come back here, slave!"

I heard them shout, but I didn't look back as I kept on running with tears trickling down my cheeks. I didn’t care that the rain was falling heavily.

I couldn’t bear the feeling of anger anymore as I ran angrily, I wanted to end it all at this point.

What if I don’t get to the root of all these? Or even get banished?

That was another nightmare I didn’t want to experience, I just wanted to scream my lungs out and cry out to my dad who is now gone.

I ran aimlessly as far as my legs could go not knowing where to but I knew one thing for sure: I wanted to end it all.

Cold water soaks me to the bone, washes the blood off my face, and still doesn’t wash away the rage.

Boots pounding wet asphalt, rain lashing sideways, I don’t stop until I hit the old iron bridge that marks neutral ground between Valenti-moon club territory and rogue land. Lightning cracks the sky open. Below me, the ravine is nothing but black water and sharp rocks.

One step. That’s all it would take.

I climb the railing, toes curled over the edge, wind ripping my hair loose.

A hand clamps around my wrist,hard, warm, alive,and yanks me backward. I hit a solid chest. Leather and storm and wild wolf.

Darkness swallows me before I can scream.

When I wake, I’m wrapped in a blanket that smells like pine and gunpowder. Strange room. Strange bed. Rogue scent everywhere.

“You’re awake.”

The voice is low, rough velvet. The man leaning in the doorway is tall, inked, built like he eats nails for breakfast. Dark hair, scar that cuts through one brow, and eyes that glow faint silver in the dim light.

I try to sit up. “Who the hell are you?”

“Get your ass moving!” someone barks from the hall. The guy flinches and disappears.

“Don’t be scared. Name’s Fernando. You’re in the Romano-Moon club’s territory now. I pulled you off that bridge,” he smiled, and this made me notice his perfect set of teeth.

I open my mouth to argue, but he’s already pulling the blanket higher. His fingers brush mine and,fuck,lightning shoots straight through my blood. The same jolt I felt at Dad’s grave. Raw and undeniable.

My wolf whines, pawing at my ribs.

“Thank you”, I was not ready to explain to anyone what had happened in the pack “I will leave now”, I attempted to get up.

“No, not until the doctor confirms that,” Fernando folds his arms. 

What was that feeling? It was similar to the feeling I felt when I was at my dad’s grave. 

Could he be my mate? Or was he stalking me?

I just could not get my head to focus on a thing and I got interrupted when the doctor walked in.

“She’s fine, she just needs some rest,” he confirmed to Fernando. 

“Okay, you can leave,” Fernando said, referring to the doctor who in turn left the room. 

“You see? I’m fine now. Can I go?”

“No, not until afternoon”, he ordered and walked away. 

Shortly after, two rogue girls in property cuts bring in a tray, real food, steak and potatoes, not the scraps I’ve been living on. I almost cry at the smell. When was the last time I was actually treated like this ever since my father died?

Later, I wander out into the courtyard. Music thumps, bonfires roar, wolves in cuts laughing and drinking under the storm-clearing sky. Eyes track me; curious, wary, hungry.

“Who is she?” a lady whispered to her friend, and of course I could hear her clearly.

“I don’t know,” her friend whispered back.

A massive biker corners me, hand sliding down my hip. “Lost little wolf, huh? I can show you how rogues party”

“Back the fuck off, Tini.” Fernando’s voice cuts like a blade. The guy practically trips over himself scrambling away.

I exhale shakily. “Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t be out here.” He studies me like he already knows too much. “When you’re ready, my guys will ride you to the edge of Valenti-moon club land. Safe passage.”

He turns to leave.

He never asked my name.

“You can come back anytime, Ariana,” he says without looking back.

My heart stops.


He knows exactly who I am.

Before I can ask how, his enforcers surrounded me, engines growl, and I’m on the back of a bike headed home. 

As I got down from the bike, the biker whose face I didn’t see handed over to me a small box, “I was instructed by Boss to give it to you,” he said, before speeding off before I could say anything.

I stared at it, wondering what it was, I got distracted and just hid it in my pocket, determined to open it when I got in. 

Maybe it was just a little gift. Nothing more. I nodded my head after trying to figure out what it was.

The second I roll through the Valenti-moon club gates, Elena’s hand cracks across my face so hard my ears ring.

“Where the fuck have you been, murderer?” she hisses. “Out spreading your legs for rogues?”

I taste blood. “Not everyone’s a whore, Elena. Some of us have standards.”

“What did you say?” her eyes widened and she dug her nails into my hair, yanking hard enough to tear. I bite back a scream.

“What’s going on here?” Harold ’s voice booms. 

Suddenly the whole council, Victoire, Liam, half the damn club is watching.

Elena instantly bursts into crocodile tears and throws herself into Liam’s arms. “She threatened to kill me!”

Liam’s hand settles on her waist like it belongs there. “You’re safe, baby.”

I laughed, actual laughter, because the absurdity is fucking hilarious.

Harold glares at me. “You’re confined to the clubhouse. No leaving the compound. Try it again and we will chain you in the pit.”

What? Were they joking? 

The prospects grabbed my arms and dragged me away while Elena smirked over Liam’s shoulder.

I met Liam’s eyes one last time. Nothing there. Not even hate. Just indifference.

The storage-room door slams behind me.