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10: Woman Like Me

Penulis: Ms. Anonymous
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2026-01-01 16:39:20

RHEA

Damien does have someone take me home.

It’s a kind-looking elderly man, and to my surprise, he pulls up in a black Mercedes. Maybe all the motorbikes I’ve been on in the last twenty-four hours have finally scrambled my brain, because the sight genuinely throws me.

“Thank you,” I tell him as he opens the back door for me. I slide in, and he waits until I’m settled before smiling, pleased as anything.

“Anything for Prez’s old lady.”

I don’t even get the chance to correct him before he shuts the door gently and walks around to the driver’s seat. Once inside, he gestures to a small button near the armrest.

“You can slide the glass up if you’d like some privacy.”

Grateful, I’m just about to do it when I remember something. “I’ll need to give you directions. My place is…” I hesitate, unable to find a polite word for run-down or dumpster-fire. “Very remote.”

“Nonsense,” the old man—Ernest, I’ve learnt—waves me off. “Prez already told me everything I need to know. You just sit back and m
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  • The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge   12: Let The Monster Claim Me

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  • The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge   11: Stay Away From The Reaper

    RHEAI met Titan a year ago in prison.There were a lot of allegeds attached to her name. Cybercrime. Identity fraud. Even talk that she’d been involved in a jewel heist that disappeared with over fifty million dollars’ worth of diamonds. The kind of rumours that don’t come from nowhere.But the police could never prove any of it.So they settled for what they could—possession of an unregistered firearm.She took the charge without a fuss. Got a year. Never sold out her crew, never gave the cops a single name. Kept her head down, played the part of a model inmate, and earned an early release for good behaviour.Early enough to change my life.Titan built me a new identity from the ground up. Clean records. A believable paper trail. A death certificate convincing enough to fool anyone who went looking.And more importantly—she gave me my first real lead on Camryn.“What’s this?” I ask, pulling a document from the thick brown envelope while Titan crouches nearby, feeding a stray cat can

  • The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge   10: Woman Like Me

    RHEADamien does have someone take me home.It’s a kind-looking elderly man, and to my surprise, he pulls up in a black Mercedes. Maybe all the motorbikes I’ve been on in the last twenty-four hours have finally scrambled my brain, because the sight genuinely throws me.“Thank you,” I tell him as he opens the back door for me. I slide in, and he waits until I’m settled before smiling, pleased as anything.“Anything for Prez’s old lady.”I don’t even get the chance to correct him before he shuts the door gently and walks around to the driver’s seat. Once inside, he gestures to a small button near the armrest.“You can slide the glass up if you’d like some privacy.”Grateful, I’m just about to do it when I remember something. “I’ll need to give you directions. My place is…” I hesitate, unable to find a polite word for run-down or dumpster-fire. “Very remote.”“Nonsense,” the old man—Ernest, I’ve learnt—waves me off. “Prez already told me everything I need to know. You just sit back and m

  • The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge   9: Be My Wife

    RHEA“Marry me, Rhea Ashford. Be my wife.”What?That’s all my brain can manage. I just stare at him, mouth open, frozen.He doesn’t care. He pulls back, like he didn’t just drop a bomb in my chest, and folds his arms.“I answered all three of your questions, Dot,” he says calmly. “You can’t keep pretending you don’t know anything about me now.”I gape at him. Unsure if I believe my ears. He laughs.“Wow,” he says. “Is that all it takes to shut you up? I don’t like it. I much prefer it when you’re pushing every last one of my buttons.”I barely hear him. My ears are still ringing.“You want me to marry you?” I finally manage.“Do I need to get on one knee for it to count?”I bark out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving. “I’m not some innocent maiden from the 1600s. You don’t have to marry me because we slept together.” I gesture wildly between us. “We fucked, Damien. Once. It meant nothing. I don’t know you. You don’t know me—” I cut myself off with another laugh. “Is this a joke?”His ex

  • The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge   8: The Wrong Brother

    RHEAI take my sweet time looking around the mechanic’s shop—anywhere but at my kidnapper, who’s wiping black grime off his still very shirtless body. I’m assuming it’s engine oil. I refuse to care.Jude drops me off and disappears just as suddenly as he showed up. One second he’s there, the next he’s gone. Not even Oldie pays him any mind.Every tool, every bike I look at makes my anger spike higher. It builds. It coils. And eventually, I can’t hold it in anymore.I’ve learned one important thing in life—get things off your chest immediately.It’s that, or end up back in prison for murder.“What am I doing here?” I snap. “Why did you lie to me? And why the hell do you even exist—”“One question at a time, Dot.” Damien smiles, and somehow that makes it worse. “Can you pass me the wrench? The one right next to you.”I hurl it at his head. Not to maim. Just to find an outlet for the throb in my chest.He laughs and catches it easily. “Thanks, Rhea.”I bristle. “So you do know my name. Y

  • The Biker's Bride Wants Revenge   7: I’ve Been Waiting For You

    RHEA When I step out of the building, his motorcycle is nowhere to be found. I scan the street, jaw tight, swallowing the curse threatening to spill out of me. Figures. Of course he’d disappear the second I actually want to confront him. I pull out my phone, it’s Roofus’s old one. A battered flip phone that belongs in a museum. I scroll through the painfully short contact list, thumb hovering over Titan, already rehearsing the verbal massacre I’m about to unleash on her— A hand lands on my shoulder. My body reacts before my brain does. It takes everything in me not to break his wrist and put him face-first into the pavement. Prison fine-tuned my instincts toward violence in ways I don’t like to think about. I flinch instead because the grip is solid. Controlled. Strong. I turn. He’s big. Broad shoulders, thick arms, late thirties maybe. Leather jacket. The same kind Damien wears. Even the tattoo curling up his neck—a snake—looks unsettlingly familiar. “Miss Rhea?” he says.

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