THE LAWLESS BIKER AND BADASS LAWYER'S REVENGE

PROLOGUE

I have waited. I have plotted. For two long, restless years, every breath I took carried one name—Alexander Stone.

He isn’t just a man; he’s a monster. The ruthless leader of the Xander Motorcycle Club, feared on the streets and untouchable in the eyes of the law. And on that night—the night that changed everything—Alexander and his gang ran my twin sister, Vera, off the road. They left her there, bleeding and broken, unconscious for hours before help arrived.

I still remember the hospital smell, the beeping machines keeping her alive, the pale look on her face. They said there wasn’t enough evidence to charge him. I knew why. Alexander Stone made sure of it. Powerful. Influential. Untouchable. He erased every shred of proof, leaving me with nothing but rage and a sister who hasn’t opened her eyes since that night.

For two years, I’ve nurtured my career, building my skills, climbing every rung of the legal ladder while secretly crafting my revenge. Vera doesn’t deserve to lie lifeless while he roams free, laughing, riding, living like nothing ever happened.

So, I did what I had to do. I went undercover. I infiltrated his world one careful step at a time. I earned whispers of trust, gathered scraps of evidence, and pieced them together like a deadly puzzle. But Alexander Stone is no fool. To get close to him, I had to do the unthinkable—swear loyalty to his club.

And then, I crossed a line I never thought I would.

I let him believe I’d fallen for him. I smiled when I wanted to spit in his face. I touched him when all I wanted was to see him in handcuffs. I even let him into my bed, because every ounce of intimacy brought me closer to his secrets.

Every step I take is calculated. Every move is intentional. I will dismantle him piece by piece, strip him of everything he values, and when he finally realizes who I am and what I’ve done, it will be far too late.

This isn’t just revenge.

This is justice—delivered by the only person he never saw coming.

VALERIE

“Objection, My Lord,” I said, rising from my seat with deliberate precision, my heels clicking softly against the polished courtroom floor. The room, tense and heavy with anticipation, stilled as I adjusted the lapel of my charcoal-gray suit. “According to the evidence in my custody, my client was not in New York, USA, on the 25th of May at 12:45 a.m., when this alleged crime took place.”

The judge’s eyes—cold, discerning—shifted to me as I lifted a sealed folder from the table and held it up for the court to see. “I have here, Your Lordship, the verified travel ticket my client used. He was, at that precise time, aboard Flight 762 to London Heathrow, as confirmed by both the airline’s manifest and immigration records.” I placed the folder on the evidence stand with a crisp, authoritative motion. “I presented it to the court yesterday, and today, I bring additional corroboration: CCTV footage from the airport’s security cameras showing my client boarding that flight. The prosecution’s narrative is not just flawed; it is fabricated.”

I turned my gaze briefly to the opposing counsel, my lips curving in a controlled, professional smile. “My colleague here is attempting to frame my client for a crime committed by none other than the son of the CEO and former governor of Florida, whose influence, while extensive, does not extend beyond the truth this court upholds. With this evidence before you, I trust I have demonstrated that my client, Mr. Evander Black, is innocent of all charges.”

“Objection!” my opposing counsel snapped, his voice loud, almost desperate. “My Lord, this is speculation—”

“Objection overruled,” the judge said firmly, cutting him off without hesitation. The gavel came down with a sharp crack. “Counselor Martinez, you have failed to refute the evidence presented. Proceed to sentencing.”

A murmur rippled through the courtroom, the sound of journalists shifting in their seats, pens scratching feverishly against notepads. I could feel every eye on me—spectators, jury members, even the gallery filled with curious onlookers waiting to see if a woman like me could bring down a dynasty like theirs. I inhaled slowly, controlled, as the judge continued.

“Now, with every piece of evidence submitted and every word spoken in this court,” he said, his deep voice echoing through the chamber, “it is the ruling of this court that Evander Black is hereby acquitted of all charges. Furthermore, due to the deliberate and malicious attempt to frame him, I hereby sentence Charles Donovan, son of CEO and ex-Governor Howard Donovan, to twenty years’ imprisonment for murder and falsification of evidence. In addition, the Donovan family will provide full financial restitution for the damages and inconveniences caused to the accused.”

The final strike of the gavel reverberated like a victory drum.

Evander exhaled beside me, his relief palpable but restrained, as I had advised him. Never celebrate too soon. Never lower your guard. I allowed myself only the smallest nod before collecting my papers, sliding them into my briefcase with the same efficiency I had maintained throughout this entire ordeal.

The prosecution’s table sat in stunned silence. Opposing counsel stared at me with a mixture of frustration and unwilling respect. “You think you’ve won, Quinn,” he muttered under his breath as I walked past.

I paused just enough to tilt my head toward him, my voice calm but laced with steel. “I don’t think so, Counselor. I win. That’s why I’m here and you’re walking out empty-handed.”

His jaw tightened, but I didn’t wait for a reply. I walked straight toward Evander, who stood tall now, his cufflinks glinting under the chandelier’s light. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice rough with suppressed emotion.

I met his gaze, unwavering. “Don’t thank me, Mr. Black. Thank the law—and remember, it doesn’t protect the careless. So stay clean.”

He gave a curt nod, understanding the warning beneath my words. My job was done here.

As I strode out of the courtroom, my heels striking the marble floor like a metronome of dominance, the reporters surged forward, their voices clamoring for a statement. “Miss Lawson! Valerie Quinn! How did you manage to dismantle the Donovan case? What’s next for you?”

I raised a single hand, silencing them without a word. The corridor hushed, cameras flashing as I walked past. Control. Always control. The law was my weapon, and I wielded it without apology.

Outside, the air was crisp, the city skyline stretching like a promise ahead of me. Another victory secured, another powerful man brought down. But I knew better than anyone that victories like these painted targets on your back. The Donovans would not forget, and neither would I.

And that was exactly how I liked it.

One man down.

But one more to go and I will not stop until you’re destroyed.

I tightened my grip on the briefcase, feeling the weight of the evidence I’d yet to unleash. My lips curved, not in satisfaction, but in bitter resolve.

Alexander Stone …

The name itself tasted like iron on my tongue.

You have no idea what I have in store for you. No idea how carefully I’ve been planning. You think you’re untouchable, hidden behind your army of leather and chrome, ruling the streets like a king. But kings fall, and when you do, I’ll be the one standing over the ashes of your empire.

I left the courthouse with my head held high, every step deliberate, every movement a declaration of victory. The air outside felt different—lighter, almost—yet beneath that fleeting sense of triumph burned something far heavier, far darker. This case, the one I’d just won, had dragged on for nearly a month. Endless nights, relentless pressure, but I had crushed it. And while the world might see me as the brilliant lawyer who dismantled criminal minded people, I knew better. This was nothing compared to what lay ahead.

I would be back.

Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but soon enough. For the case I’ve been preparing for four long, grueling years.

A case drenched in blood and betrayal.

A case that’s personal.

Because this isn’t about justice—it’s about vengeance.

I will bring those bikers to their knees. Every last one of them. And when I say bikers, I mean him.

Alexander Stone.

The name alone ignited a storm inside me. The Lawless King of the Xander MC. Ruthless. Untouchable. Feared by men twice his size and worshipped by a legion of criminals. To the world, he’s power incarnate, an enigma cloaked in leather and sin. To me, he’s the man who turned my life into a wasteland.

Two years ago, I lost everything because of him. My reputation was dragged through mud, my career almost destroyed before it began, and worst of all—my twin sister, Vera. Sweet, stubborn Vera who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I remember the phone call that shattered me. I remember the silence that followed. And I remember the promise I made that night as I stared at her empty room: I will find him. I will end him. And I will make him watch as everything he’s built crumbles to dust.

So, let them celebrate my victory today. Let them print my name across headlines and call me brilliant, unstoppable, untouchable. They have no idea what’s coming.

Because this? This was just practice.

The real war hasn’t even begun.

And when it does, Alexander Stone will fall.

I will see to it with my own hands.

For Vera. For every restless night. For every wound that never healed.

I had an empire to burn.

I took one last look at the courthouse steps before walking away, my mind already mapping the war ahead.