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หน้าหลัก / Romance / THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY / CHAPTER 84 - Unlikely Saviors

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CHAPTER 84 - Unlikely Saviors

ผู้เขียน: Lila Williams
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2026-01-14 14:23:19

The facility lights flickered. We were halfway to sub-level three when the first explosion rocked the building.

"They are through the main door," Torres said. "We have maybe three minutes before they reach us."

"Keep moving," Victoria commanded.

We ran down sterile corridors. Everything was white. Clean. Horrifying in its clinical perfection. This was where Marcus had played god. Where he had broken people and rebuilt them into weapons.

Hope led the way, navigating from memory. Nine years old a
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  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 105 - The Question

    Three years passed in the mountains.Hope turned twelve. Damien's hair went gray at the temples. I found wrinkles around my eyes that had not been there before. The garden grew wild and beautiful. Life happened. Ordinary. Quiet. Almost normal.Almost.Because you cannot truly erase what you have been. Cannot pretend the past did not happen. Cannot become someone who never carried the weight.It shows in small ways. In how Hope flinches at sudden noises. In how Damien sleeps with one hand under the pillow where he used to keep a weapon. In how I count exits in every room. In how we all wake at three AM sometimes and cannot explain why.Trauma lives in the body. In the nervous system. In places deeper than memory or choice.But we were learning to live with it. Learning to breathe around it. Learning that healing is not about forgetting. It is about integration. About making peace with what happened. About carrying it without being crushed by it.One evening in late summer, Hope came to

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 104: What We Carry

    The garden bloomed on April third.Hope came running inside. Hair wild. Face glowing. Words tumbling out so fast I could barely understand."Mama! Mama! They bloomed! Sarah's plant bloomed first! Come see! Come see!"We walked outside together. Me. Damien. Hope. Moving like pilgrims toward something sacred.The garden was small. Just twelve plants arranged in a circle. Each one marked with a stone bearing a name. A life. A memory.Sarah's plant was a forget-me-not. Tiny blue flowers. Delicate. Beautiful. Impossibly fragile.Hope knelt beside it. Touched the petals with fingertips that trembled. Not from cold. From something deeper. Something that lived in the space between joy and grief."She would have loved these," Hope whispered. "Blue was her favorite color. She told me. The day before—" She could not finish. Did not need to finish.We all knew what day. What moment. What ending.Damien knelt beside her. His large hand covering her small one. His voice rough with emotion."The pla

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 103 - The Inheritance

    Spring came early that year.The garden Hope planted began showing signs of life before February ended. Small green shoots pushing through frozen earth. Tiny miracles of persistence and growth.Hope checked the garden every morning. Before school. Before breakfast. Before anything else. She knelt in the dirt with bare hands despite the cold and watched the shoots grow."They are coming," she said one morning. Eyes bright with something I had not seen in months. Wonder. Pure, childlike wonder.Damien handed her a mug of hot chocolate. She wrapped her fingers around it and smiled. The kind of smile that makes everything else disappear. The kind that reminds you exactly why you fought so hard to keep someone alive.That morning, Victoria arrived. Unannounced as always. She appeared at our door like a ghost made flesh. Expensive coat. Sharp eyes. Something different about her though. Something softer."We need to talk," she said. Sat at the kitchen table without waiting for invitation."A

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 102 - Grief and Gratitude

    Grief does not arrive all at once.It sneaks in. Quietly. Through small moments. Through ordinary things that suddenly feel unbearable.Three days after the families left, Hope found one of the dead children's drawings in her room. Sarah had given it to her before that terrible night. A simple sketch of two girls holding hands in the snow. Drawn with crayon. Labeled underneath with misspelled words."Hoep and Sarah. Best frends forever."Hope stared at it for ten minutes before I heard her cry.Not loud crying. Not dramatic crying. Just quiet, broken sounds that came from somewhere deep inside her. The kind of crying that comes from losing something you barely had time to treasure.I found her sitting on the floor. Back against her bed. The drawing clutched to her chest like a lifeline. Tears rolling silently down her cheeks.I did not say anything. Did not offer comfort. Did not try to fix anything. I just sat beside her. Close enough to touch. Far enough to give space.Sometimes gri

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 101 - The Final Stand

    But victory never lasts. Not for us. Not for people marked by Marcus Ashford's legacy.Three days later, every child in our house started bleeding from their noses. Simultaneously. At exactly midnight.Hope was first to understand."The modifications. They are activating. Dr. Zhao triggered something before she left. Some kind of—delayed protocol. Genetic time bomb. We are all dying."Her voice was calm. Too calm. The calm of someone who had accepted death."How long?" Damien asked. Already moving. Already planning. Already fighting."Hours. Maybe less. The modifications were designed to be dormant. Safe. But Zhao must have added a kill switch. A way to eliminate us all if she could not capture us. Smart. Efficient. Evil."Thirty-two children. All bleeding. All dying. All looking at us with terrified eyes.Parents were screaming. Crying. Demanding we fix it. Demanding we save their children. Demanding—Everything we could not give."There has to be a way," I said. "A cure. A reversal.

  • THE BIKER'S ACCIDENTAL LADY   CHAPTER 100 - The Threat Returns

    For six beautiful months, we had peace.The children stayed. Not all of them, not all the time. But they came back. Weekends. Holidays. School breaks. Our house in the mountains became a refuge. A place where being different was normal. Where nobody had to hide.Hope bloomed. That is the only word for it. She bloomed like a flower finally getting sunlight. She smiled more. Laughed more. Acted her age more. She was still brilliant, still extraordinary, but now she had friends who matched her. Who challenged her. Who understood her.I started sleeping through the night. For the first time in years. No nightmares. No panic. Just sleep. Real, deep, healing sleep.Damien built a workshop. Spent hours creating things. Beautiful things. Useful things. His hands that had killed so many now only built. Only created. Only made.We were healing. All of us. Together.Then the letter came.Simple envelope. No return address. Just our names written in elegant handwriting.Inside, one sentence."The

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