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Claimed by the Ruthless Biker
Last Updated : 2026-06-14
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One night. One witness. One life-changing mistake. I was never supposed to be in that alley. I was never supposed to see Ruan "Reaper" Montague, the cold-blooded president of the Iron Skulls MC, execute a traitor. Now, the man with the silver eyes and tattooed skin has a Choice: kill me to protect his club, or keep me to satisfy his darkest desires. I thought I’d be his prisoner, but Reaper has other plans. In his world, there are no laws, only his word. He hasn't just taken my freedom; he has claimed my soul. I’m the girl who saw too much, and he’s the monster who won't let me go. I am no longer a witness... I am his property.
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Claimed by the Ruthless Biker CHAPTER 60: BLOOD LAW
The burning skeleton of *The Leviathan* sank into the Pacific with a low, hissing groan that sounded like the final breath of a dying era. By 0800 hours, the black smoke from the harbor had merged with the gray morning fog, wrapping Blackridge in a heavy, protective shroud. The naval destroyer was gone, its multi-million-dollar hull broken against our concrete reefs, leaving the coast entirely under the unyielding law of the road.I stood in the center of the Iron Cathedral’s main courtyard, my white lab coat splattered with sea salt and the dark, thick grease of field trauma wraps. My fingers were still trembling slightly from the adrenaline of the dockside surgery, but my stance was firm. Beside me, the two hundred Phantoms and the remnants of Kaelen’s Strays stood in silence, their engines idling in a low, synchronized hum that felt like the heartbeat of a new civilization.Arthur was back in my arms, having been brought up from the subterranean vault by Bear. He was wide awake, hi
Last Updated : 2026-06-14Claimed by the Ruthless Biker CHAPTER 59: LEVIATHAN’S GRAVEYARD
The black horizon of the Pacific didn’t just rumble; it bled. Through the dense, wet curtains of the harbor fog, the silhouette of *The Leviathan* materialized like a prehistoric leviathan cut from matte-black steel. The naval destroyer sat three miles out, a ghost ship commissioned by the absolute peak of corporate desperation, its heavy forward cannons slowly rotating toward the coordinates of the free port of Blackridge. They weren't here to negotiate an asset recovery. They were here to execute a scorched-earth liquidation.I stood on the extreme edge of the north pier, the freezing sea spray soaking through my white coat, my boots planted firmly on the cold concrete. Arthur was a mile back, secured in the deepest subterranean vault of the Iron Cathedral under the unblinking, heavy guard of Bear and forty veteran patches. My hands were encased in latex gloves, my heavy canvas trauma kit resting against my thigh, and my 9mm loaded with the jacketed hollow-points Ruan had given me f
Last Updated : 2026-06-14Claimed by the Ruthless Biker CHAPTER 58: THE IRON QUARANTINE OR THE REIGN OF THE OUTLAW GODS
The gates of the Iron Cathedral didn’t just close behind the incoming convoy; they sealed. The massive, reinforced steel panels slammed into the concrete tracks with a concussive boom that echoed through the shipyard, a sound that officially marked the day Blackridge became an island of wolves in a sea of corporate ink. The federal grid had gone entirely dark at the border, the digital signals cut with surgical malice, but the physical weight of Miller’s cargo trucks parked in the center of the dry dock was a tangible, heavy victory that tasted of diesel and raw survival.I stood on the elevated platform of the medical mezzanine, looking down at the unified nation we had forged in the mud of the mountain pass. Below, the division between black leather and tactical nylon had completely melted away under the freezing June rain. Phantoms and Strays worked in silence, their movements synchronized as they unloaded crates of flour, medical saline, and fuel barrels, their flashlights cutting
Last Updated : 2026-06-14Claimed by the Ruthless Biker CHAPTER 57: BLOCKADE EXECUTION OR THE BLOOD-HIGHWAY MASSACRE
The mountain pass didn't feel like a road anymore; it felt like a throat being squeezed by an iron fist.Thirty miles south of Blackridge, where the highway sheared through the jagged granite of the coastal peaks, the cold June rain had turned into a thick, low-clinging soup of mountain fog. I sat in the passenger seat of the vanguard armored transport, the heavy steel chassis shaking violently as Kaelen slammed the vehicle through another deep pothole in the asphalt. Arthur was strapped to my chest, his small, warm heartbeat a stark contrast to the absolute freezing dark that pressed against the reinforced windshield.I had refused to stay behind the stone. When Jax’s long-range radar had picked up three heavily armored, unmarked convoys closing in on Miller’s stolen supply truck, the "Matriarch" had taken her seat at the front. You don't let the man who traded his badge for your family run a gauntlet of executioners alone."They’ve set the kill-zone at the dead man's curve," Kaelen
Last Updated : 2026-06-01
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