LOGINI never imagined I’d be kidnapped by a biker gang and dragged into a world of leather, engines, and blood debts. But when Cassius Draven, the ruthless president of the Iron Serpents MC, takes me, I discover danger isn’t just outside, it’s in his eyes. Defiant and unbroken, I refuse to be his captive until I realize I might already be his. And maybe, against all reason, I don’t want to escape. Secrets from his past and my father’s debts collide in ways I could never predict. Every choice I make could cost me my freedom or my heart. Read to find out if I can survive a world ruled by danger, desire, and betrayal or if falling for him will be the ultimate risk.
View MoreSelene’s POV
The night smelled like rain and gasoline. I locked the café door and pulled my jacket tighter as the desert wind slid across my skin, sharp enough to make me flinch.
It had been a long shift. Too many customers, too many stories I didn’t care to hear, God, I was exhausted.
I stepped onto the gravel road. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that made you hear your own heartbeat and wonder if something was listening back.
My boots crunched softly as I walked. Arizona nights usually felt safe but not tonight. Something felt off, like the air was watching me.
One engine growled behind me, then another. The sound thickened until the air vibrated, like it was warning me.
I stopped walking without meaning to. “Not tonight,” I whispered to nobody.
Headlights exploded across the road. Bright white swallowed me whole, like a punch of light straight to my chest.
My throat tightened. My legs refused to move.
Six motorcycles slowed to a circle around me. Leather, chrome, and rumbling engines trapped me in place like a cage closing in.
Every jacket carried the same emblem. A serpent coiled around an iron blade “Iron Serpents MC.” The sight hit harder than I expected.
My heart dropped hard into my stomach. I’d seen that emblem once before, hidden inside a shoebox my father thought I’d never find.
The leader dismounted. Tall, and broad-shouldered, moving like someone who expected obedience the way other people expected air.
He took off his helmet. His dark eyes pinned me instantly, too sharp, and too knowing.
“Selene Carter?” he asked. His voice was rough, deep, and dangerously calm.
“Who’s asking?” I said. My voice tense. A small smirk lifted one corner of his mouth.
“Cassius Draven. President of the Iron Serpents.”
The name hit me like a punch to the ribs, hard, and at the same time leaving a sting that refused to fade.
Cassius Draven was the reason my father ran. The reason he disappeared six years ago. The reason my childhood ended overnight.
My pulse jumped. “What do you want from me?” I asked.
Cassius stepped closer, every move precise, and deliberate, as if he’d planned each one.
“Your father owes me,” he said.
“Owes you what?” I whispered.
“More than money,” he said. “He owes blood.”
My breath shook. “I don’t know where he is.”
“I think you do,” Cassius said.
“I don’t,” I insisted. “I haven’t seen him since I was sixteen.”
He studied my face, as if he was searching for the truth, and looking for something I didn’t even know I had. He didn’t look convinced at all.
“You might know something,” he said.
“You’ve got the wrong girl.”
“You’re wrong,” he said.
One of the bikers snorted. “She’s terrified.”
“I’m not,” I said. My voice betrayed me anyway.
Cassius didn’t look away from me. If anything, his gaze sharpened like a blade being pulled free.
Then he nodded once. “Bag her.”
I barely breathed before hands yanked me backward, and a cloth was used to cover my vision instantly.
I kicked, clawed, and yelled. My voice drowned under roaring engines, swallowed whole by noise and fear.
They threw me into a van, and the door slammed shut hard enough to rattle my bones.
Darkness swallowed me whole, too quickly. I woke to the van rattling across uneven ground.
My wrists were tied. A dim bulb flickered above me, swinging with every bump, casting shaky shadows that crawled across the metal walls.
“You’re awake,” Cassius said from the front seat. He didn’t turn around.
“Let me go,” I said, my voice shaking even though I hated that it did.
“If I wanted to hurt you,” he said calmly, “I’d have done it already.”
“Kidnapping counts as hurting,” I shot back, even though the words trembled out from my mouth.
He chuckled softly. “You’ve got a mouth.”
“Don’t talk about my father,” I snapped.
“I’ll talk about the man who stole from me,” he said. “And got two of my brothers killed.”
My breath caught painfully, like it snagged somewhere in my chest. “You’re blaming me?”
“I’m looking for answers,” he said. “And you’re the only thing he left behind.”
The van slowed, and my stomach lurched, twisting with fear. We drove through a gate, the roar of engines echoing all around.
When the doors opened, cold night air hit my skin suddenly, and I shivered. They untied my wrists but gripped my arms tightly.
We were inside a fenced compound full of motorcycles. Men watched from every corner, their eyes sharp, hungry, and evaluating.
Cassius stood beside me, jaw tight. “You try to run,” he said, “and you won’t make it ten feet.”
He pulled me across the yard. All eyes following us, hungry, suspicious, amused and way too interested.
“What do you want from me?” I asked again. My voice cracked this time, and I hated that too.
Cassius didn’t answer until he dragged me into a hallway. The noise of the clubhouse faded behind the door.
He opened a smaller room. An office with maps, a desk, and a photo of a younger Cassius beside a row of bikes.
“Sit,” he said.
“No.”
“Sit,” he repeated. “Or I’ll make you.”
My legs gave out faster than I liked. I sank into the chair.
Cassius leaned on the desk across from me. His eyes were sharp enough to cut through bone.
“You expect me to believe you don’t know where he is?” he asked.
“I don’t,” I whispered. “I haven’t heard from him in years.”
Cassius tilted his head. “And you never wondered why he ran?” he asked. “Why he left you behind?”
My throat tightened painfully. “Of course I wondered.”
Something flickered in his eyes, a brief softness,and almost human before it vanished again.
“You stay here,” he said. “In the clubhouse, under my watch.”
“How long?” I asked.
“Until I find him.”
“You can’t keep me here.”
“I already am.”
He opened the door to leave. I stood quickly.
“You can’t do this!” I shouted. “You don’t get to control my life!”
Cassius stopped in the doorway and turned slowly, his stare steady, heavy, and almost too intense.
“No,” he said quietly. “But you’re in it now.”
He stepped out and locked the door. The click echoed like a sentence being handed down.
I pressed my back to the wall. My hands shook uncontrollably, like they no longer belonged to me.
Outside, I heard footsteps. Low voices. The hum of engines idling.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
I sank onto the thin mattress in the corner. A long breath fell out of me, shaky and useless.
But before I could gather my thoughts, a crash shook the hallway, and a shout followed.
Boots thundered toward the office.
Someone pounded on the door. “Boss! We’ve got a problem!”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I stood instantly, every nerve on fire.
The knob twisted violently. The lock rattled.
“Cassius!” someone yelled. “She’s not the only one we found tonight!”
My blood turned cold. My feet froze.
Before I could move, the door burst open.
A man I’d never seen before stumbled inside. His eyes were wild, frantic, and he pointed a gun straight at me.
Selene’s POVTrust is a fragile construct. I’ve built mine on observation, leverage, and patterns—but even the strongest architecture can collapse when the foundation betrays you.It began with a simple anomaly. A report flagged on the operations screen, buried beneath routine logs. I almost dismissed it. Almost. But I’ve learned the cost of “almost” in this life.A supply manifest had been altered. Just slightly. A missing shipment. A wrong entry. Nothing obvious. But enough for the ledger to hum in warning. My gut reacted before my mind fully understood the implications.“Cassius,” I said sharply, eyes on the screen. “Check the west wing inventory logs for the last twelve hours. Every entry. Every movement. No exceptions.”He leaned over the console, running the cross-check. His jaw tightened as the first discrepancies surfaced. “Selene… this is deliberate. Someone manipulated the logs, then tried to cover it up.”I pressed my fingertips to my temple. Patterns, anomalies, timing. So
Selene’s POVThe moment you think you’ve gained control, reality reminds you how fragile perception is.Kane’s response didn’t come through a message. It came as a ripple across the compound—small at first, almost imperceptible, like the vibrations of a predator walking over sand. The guards I’d relied on, the networks I’d calibrated, the alliances I’d carefully nudged into alignment—everything shifted subtly, almost surgically, in ways that screamed his signature.Cassius and I were in the operations room when it started. The screens flickered, not due to a technical glitch but because the network was being re-routed. Every sensor, every camera, every communication line was being accessed, scanned, and overwritten. That was Kane’s style—direct, but invisible until the consequences hit.“Not subtle,” Cassius muttered, leaning over my shoulder as the first anomalies popped up on the screens.“I never expected subtle,” I replied. My fingers flew across the console, tracing access points
Selene’s POVChoices have weight.And some weights never lift.The morning after Jonah’s death, the compound felt smaller, denser, alive with suspicion. Even the walls seemed to hold their breath. Men and women moved with caution, recalibrating silently. Every glance measured. Every whisper a potential threat. Alignment was no longer a subtle undertone—it was now a battlefield.Cassius walked beside me as we made our way to the command room. He didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. Jonah’s blood still lingered in my thoughts, but not in grief. In calculation. In understanding the cost of leadership.“We need to make a move,” I said finally.Cassius didn’t respond immediately. He knew the tone that preceded it. The command that followed would force choices, fracture allegiances, and define outcomes. He’d seen it before. He’d seen me decide, and he’d survived it.“What’s the play?” he asked.I stopped in the hall, turning to him. “We make the first irreversible call.”Cassius’ brow fu
Selene’s POVBetrayal doesn’t feel like a knife.It feels like recognition arriving a second too late.The compound held its breath after the non-purge. That was the tell. When violence is expected and doesn’t come, people don’t relax—they wait for the correction. Men slept with boots on. Guns stayed within reach. Conversations were clipped, careful, stripped of anything that could be replayed later as evidence of alignment.I spent the morning doing nothing extraordinary.That was deliberate.Power that moves too fast invites desperation. I needed to see who couldn’t tolerate the pause.Cassius shadowed me without hovering, a balance he’d learned quickly. We crossed the west wing together, exchanging quiet updates with people who now looked at me directly when they spoke instead of checking who stood behind me.That shift was still dangerous.“Jonah hasn’t checked in,” Cassius said under his breath.“How long?” I asked.“Six hours.”That was too long.Jonah had been precise. Predicta












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