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CHAPTER 8 - The Devil You Know

Author: Lila Williams
last update Last Updated: 2025-11-04 03:15:22

I woke to the smell of expensive cologne and leather seats.

My head pounded. Nausea rolled through me in waves. I forced my eyes open, immediately regretting it as fluorescent light stabbed through my skull.

"Easy now. The chloroform takes time to wear off."

That voice. I knew that voice.

Richard sat across from me in what I slowly recognized as the back of a luxury car. His perfect hair. His perfect suit. That practiced expression of concern that had fooled me for two years.

"What did you do?" My words slurred. "Damien—I saw him—"

"Shot. Yes. Quite dramatically too." Richard leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Victor has excellent aim. Your biker is likely dead by now."

The words hit like physical blows. Dead. Damien was dead.

"No." Tears burned my eyes. "You are lying."

"Why would I lie? It is over, Flora. This ridiculous rebellion ends now." He reached for my hand. I jerked away. "Come now. We have a wedding to plan."

Rage cut through the grief and drug haze. "You think I will ma
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  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 78 - The Assassination

    Torres chose the meeting location.Abandoned warehouse. Industrial district. Clichéd but practical. Multiple exits. Clear sightlines. Isolated.She was smart. Always had been.Not smart enough.I arrived at midnight. Hope beside me. Both armed. Both programmed. Both—ready.Torres emerged from shadows. Thinner. Harder. Three weeks on the run showing."Flora. Thank god. I was not sure you would come. Not sure if you were—" She stopped. Studied my face. My posture. My—emptiness. "What did he do to you?""He made me better. Stronger. Perfect." My voice. Marcus's words. His programming speaking."No. No no no—" Torres backed up. Saw Hope. Eight years old. Armed. Emotionless. "Hope? Baby what—""I am not baby. I am Ashford. I am weapon. I am here to kill you." Hope raised her gun. Steady. Professional. Eight years old."Flora stop this. Fight it. Whatever drugs—whatever programming—you are stronger than this. I know you are—""You know nothing." I moved. Cutting off her escape. "You abandon

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 77 - The Perfect Puppet

    Three weeks later.I stood on stage in Geneva. Thousand people watching. Cameras broadcasting worldwide. Smile perfect. Posture perfect. Words perfect."The Ashford Foundation is committed to helping children worldwide. Education. Healthcare. Opportunity. My daughter Hope and I are honored to lead this initiative—"Applause. Adoration. They loved me.They had no idea.Marcus watched from backstage. Smiling. Proud. Controlling every word through earpiece. Every gesture. Every breath."Turn left. Wave. Smile wider. Good. Perfect."I obeyed. Automatically. The drugs made disobedience—impossible. Made his voice—law.Hope stood beside me. Eight years old now. Four years of Marcus's "training" showing. Beautiful. Poised. Empty.She spoke next. Flawless speech. Written by Marcus. Performed perfectly."My grandfather taught me that power means responsibility. That Ashfords must give back. Must help others. Must make the world—better."More applause. Hope smiled. Practiced smile. Doll smile. D

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 76 - Descent Into Hell

    Marcus returned three hours later.Not alone.He brought Hope."Surprise." He held her hand. She looked—different. Dressed in expensive clothes. Hair styled. Face—blank. Empty. Wrong."Hope!" I lunged. Marcus pressed button. Damien's heart monitor flatlined. Alarms screaming."Stop or he dies. Permanently this time."I froze. Damien's body seizing. Marcus waited. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.Then restarted the machine. Damien gasped. Alive. Barely."Good. You learn consequences quickly. Now. Sit. Watch. Learn what happens when you defy me."Hope walked to me. Mechanical. Programmed. She hugged me. No warmth. Just motion."Hello, Mama. Grandfather brought me. Said you needed me. Said we are family now.""Baby what did he do to you—""Nothing yet." Marcus smiled. "But I will. Starting now. Hope—show Mama what you learned."Hope pulled out knife. Small. Child-sized. Sharp."Grandfather taught me. Proper grip. Proper angle. Proper—force." She demonstrated on air. Professional. Practiced. P

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 75 - Captive

    Marcus locked the door.Electronic. Biometric. Impossible to breach from inside."Scream if you want. Soundproof. Fight if you want. I have twenty guards outside. Run if you want. Fortieth floor. No exits." He sat beside Damien's bed. Gun casual in his lap. "You are trapped. Completely. Helpfully. Perfectly.""What do you want?""Same thing I always wanted. Legacy. Empire. Dynasty. But—" He gestured at Damien. "But your husband complicated things. Survived when he should have died. Created—attachment. Emotional liability. So now—we fix that."He pressed gun against Damien's temple."No!" I moved. Too slow. Marcus faster.He grabbed my throat. Slammed me against wall. Strength impossible for his age. Enhanced. Augmented. Something."Rule one. You do not move without permission. Understand?"I nodded. No air. No choice.He released. I collapsed. Gasping."Good. Learning already. Faster than expected." He returned to Damien. "Now. Here is situation. Damien lives or dies based on your coo

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 74 - No Safe Haven

    We landed in Virginia at dawn.Federal safe house. Sixth one this year. Torres promised this time was different. This time was secure.I stopped believing promises.Hope fell asleep in the car. Exhausted. Traumatized. Four years old with nightmares older than most adults."She needs therapy," Torres said. Watching Hope through rearview mirror. "Real therapy. Not training. Not survival skills. Actual child psychology—""And tell them what? My daughter killed a man at four? Watched her parents murder dozens? Lived through eight assassination attempts?" I looked at Torres. "What therapist is cleared for that?""We have specialists. Federal—""Federal specialists report to someone. Someone reports to someone else. Eventually—information leaks. Eventually someone decides Hope is liability. Or asset. Either way—she disappears into system. Into programs. Into becoming exactly what Marcus wanted. Weapon."Torres had no answer. Because I was right. We both knew it.The safe house was suburban.

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 73 - The Revelation

    Switzerland was winter incarnate.Snow. Mountains. Catherine's estate perched on cliff like gothic nightmare.No guards. No security. Just open gates. Invitation. Trap.I walked through. Armed. Ready. Expecting death.Found silence.The estate was enormous. Abandoned. Only sound was wind through broken windows.Then—music. Classical. Chopin. Nocturne in E-flat major. Catherine's favorite.I followed it. Through marble halls. Past priceless art. Past everything Catherine claimed to want.The music led to ballroom. Massive. Empty except for single figure.Damien. Standing. Not dying. Not wounded. Perfectly healthy."Hello, Flora."Wrong voice. Wrong cadence. Wrong—everything.He smiled. Pulled off face. Prosthetic mask. Beneath—Marcus.Alive. Impossibly alive."Surprised?" He was older. Scarred. But unmistakably Marcus. "You should be. I have been dead eight years. Quite convincing death too. You watched me burn. Remember?"I could not speak. Could not process. Marcus. Alive. Everythin

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