THE BIKERS FORBIDDEN CLAIM

LISA'S POVThe bruise on my ribs was three days old, but it still hurt when I breathed.I pressed my hand against my side and kept walking through the Iron Wolves clubhouse, ignoring the stares from the men drinking at the bar. They all knew. They always knew when my father lost his temper. But no one said a word. No one ever did."Lisa, wait up!" Ruby jogged toward me, her face tight with worry. "Where have you been? Your father has been looking everywhere for you.""I was at the storage unit. Someone had to check the inventory.""You should have told someone. He's pissed."Of course he was. My father was always angry about something. I was never good enough, never obedient enough, never quiet enough. My mother used to shield me from his rage, but she had been dead for five years. Now there was no one between me and his fists."Let him be angry," I said quietly. "I am tired of caring."Ruby grabbed my arm, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Lisa, something big is happening. The Steel

Jackson's motorcycle roared into the clubhouse parking lot at exactly noon.I watched from my window as he swung off the bike, all leather and muscle and controlled power. He moved like a predator—smooth, confident, dangerous. Men twice his size stepped out of his way.Ruby helped me zip up the black dress my father had thrown at me that morning. It was too tight, too short, and showed too much. Exactly what he wanted. A reminder that I was property being transferred from one owner to another."You look beautiful," Ruby said quietly.I looked like a sacrifice."If you do not hear from me by tonight—" I started."Do not talk like that." Ruby grabbed my hands. "You will be fine. Jackson said he would not hurt you.""And you believe him?"She hesitated. That was answer enough.I walked downstairs with my heart hammering against my ribs. Every step felt like walking toward my execution. My father waited by the door with his arms crossed."Remember what I said. Be respectful. Be obedient.

I woke to the sound of breaking glass.My eyes flew open. Unfamiliar ceiling. Unfamiliar room. Then I remembered. Jackson's house. My new prison.Another crash came from downstairs. Voices. Angry voices.I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and crept to the door. My heart hammered against my ribs. Through the crack, I could see down the stairs into the living room.Five men stood in Jackson's house. Iron Wolves cuts. My father's men.And Jackson faced them alone."You have thirty seconds to get out of my house," Jackson said. His voice was deadly calm."We are here for the girl," one of them said. Tommy. My cousin. "Marcus wants his daughter back.""She is not his daughter anymore. She is my wife.""That marriage is not legal. We checked."Jackson smiled. It was terrifying. "Check again. Call your lawyer. Call the courthouse. Hell, call God himself. Lisa Wood is now Lisa Kane. Legally. Permanently. And she stays with me.""Marcus will not accept this.""I do not care what Marcus acc

LISA'S POVThe next two weeks were the strangest of my life.By day, Jackson was all business. He took me shopping for new clothes—not trashy club girl outfits, but real clothes. Jeans that fit. Sweaters that were mine. Boots that didn't have holes in them. He handed over a credit card and told me to buy whatever I wanted.I spent two hundred dollars and felt guilty about it."That's it?" he'd asked, looking at my three small bags."I don't need much.""Lisa, I make six figures a year from legitimate businesses alone. Two hundred dollars is nothing. Go back and buy more.""I don't want to owe you.""You don't owe me anything. We're partners, remember?"Partners. That word kept me up at night.Because by night, everything changed.Jackson would come home from club business, tired and tense. We'd eat dinner together—sometimes takeout, sometimes I'd cook with the groceries he kept the house stocked with. We'd talk about nothing and everything. He'd tell me about club politics. I'd tell h

LISA'S POVThe cabin was beautiful.Tucked into the mountains, surrounded by pine trees, with a view of the valley below. Wood and stone and glass. A huge fireplace. A kitchen that looked barely used. And upstairs, a bedroom with a bed big enough for three people."Diesel owns it," Jackson said, setting down our bags. "Uses it for when he needs to disappear. I figured we could use some privacy."Privacy. Right. Because tonight was our wedding night.My stomach fluttered with nerves."I'm going to start a fire," Jackson said, moving toward the fireplace. "You hungry? I can order food—""Jackson." I touched his arm. "Stop."He turned to look at me. "Stop what?""Stop stalling. Stop being nervous. It's just me.""That's the problem. It's you." He touched my face. "I want tonight to be perfect. And I'm terrified I'll mess it up.""You won't.""How do you know?""Because you're you. Because you've been patient and gentle and respectful. Because you've given me more in two weeks than my fat