The Disgraced Biker Princess as His Mafia Pet

Today was one of those shittiest days as I walked up to the garage about to start my work for the day.

I massaged my back a bit where my brother had kicked me so hard in the back after breakfast.

I was bleeding all under my shirt.

But it's something I'm used to now because that's how it goes in this club for years now.

Alexei had been hurting me since I was seven. First was usually his fist, then other things I don't even like to name.

Turning eighteen didn't change a damn thing. He still hits me and makes me keep my mouth shut because I know a secret he once told me when he was all drunk.

I spent the entire morning underneath a Harley Davidson. I've been trying to figure out why the transmission kept grinding third gear.

My hair was all greasy and the garage stank of gas, sweat, and everything mechanical.

Dmitri, almost the only worker left in Night Wolves' garage, my father's biker club, walked up to me.

"Here," he said, handing me the wrenches.

I didn't say a word. It was much safer to be under a bike than anywhere else on this shithole.

I was just doing my work hoping for a smooth day forward when I heard the loud and close first shot.

At first I thought it was some idiot popping off rounds at beer cans, but I heard it right. That sound was ugly. A heavy, mean thing.

I jerked up and slammed my head against the bike frame. "What the fuck was that?

Dmitri had already dropped the wrenches while they clattered on the concrete floor. He stood close to the garage door. "That came from the lot," he said with a high voice. "Sounded like a damn cannon."

I shoved the creeper out from under the bike while I stood up. My back hurt and my head was throbbing so bad, but hiding never did me any good anyway, so I wiped my hands on my jeans while I walked outside to go figure out what the fuck that was.

I walked farther into the lot. The whole place was smelling like blood.

I turned and saw Pavel was facedown in the middle of the parking lot.

He was our father's enforcer. I bent down to check his face. He was soaking into the asphalt.

Sticking out of his back, right between his shoulder blades, was a knife with a little silver wolf stamp on the handle.

That was very much the Volkov family stamp.

I stared at the knife for a long second before my stomach turned over. "What the hell were they here for?"

I left dead Pavel there and walked into the inner clubhouse. My father was sitting behind the bar, drowning in some whiskey like a man with all the time in the world and nothing left to feel.

"You're finally here. You came at the right moment."

"What do you mean, father? Pavel is dead," I said. "He had a Volkov knife in his chest."

He nodded. "I know."

"You know? Really? For someone that took a bullet for you in '09. He's been your shadow for fifteen fucking years, and you're just gonna stand there drinking?"

"He's also dead, Lena." Father finally lifted up his head, looking at me with empty eyes. "Dead men don't need crying over. They need revenge, and I can't afford that right now."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

He poured another drink. "It's quite impressive that you're concerned, Lena. While that has been settled, so go pack your bag. The Volkov king needs peace and we're offering you as a bride. Killing Pavel was a warning to fulfill this."

"Wha... what?" The words were still processing in my brain while I waited for him to laugh or say he was kidding, but father just stood there with a glass.

My already hurting head was starting to spin.

"No." The word came out with much more authority than I thought.

"Absolutely not. You have to find someone else or something. You can't hand over your daughter to some dangerous biker club like she's a piece of trash or cattle to be sold."

"There is no other girl, and definitely not your sister. She's already in school and almost reaching where she wants to be."

"Right. She gets to follow her dream and I do all the dirty work for you in that stinking garage all day just to keep the club going. And now you want to throw me away like nothing. If there is no other girl, then the king of Volkov should go fuck himself."

My father moved faster across me than I thought he could. His hand cracked across my cheek and my head immediately snapped to the side so hard I bit my tongue. I tasted my own blood, touching my face as I stared at him.

"Do you think I want this too, Lena?" he said, looking at me. "Do you think I want to hand over my daughter to those animals?" He touched my jaw, forcing me to look up. "We're bleeding out, Lena. Those cowards took three of our garages last month. Four of our men are in the hospital and two are in the fucking ground. How else do you want us to stop this?" He yelled at my face.

"But..." I tried to speak, already sobbing on my words. "Why does it have to be me?"

He went back to his desk to finish his drink. "Alexei volunteered your name."

Of course he did, I thought immediately.

It has to be him.

I didn't say any word to my father as I walked through the clubhouse past the stained couches.

Alexei stood at the weapon table cleaning a Glock.

He looked up at me when I came in and a smile spread across his face.

He was handsome in the way a broken bottle is handsome, with sharp edges but a promise to cut you.

"Let me guess," he said, adding a smirk to it. "You heard the news, little sister," he said with a light friendly voice.

"Go to hell," I spat at him.

He set the Glock down and walked toward me slowly while wiping his hands on a rag. "That's not very nice. I just found you a husband."

I wanted to punch him in the face. Grab a fucking gun off the table and paint the walls with his stupid face.

But I've always wanted things like that since I was seven, and wanting never got me anything except bruises and more nights to spend crying on my pillow.

Alexei is a psycho, but he's also fucking smart around me.

He stood right in front of me. He reached into his waistband and pulled out a small black pistol.

Before I could move, he pressed the barrel under my chin.

"You're the only thing of value we've got. The club's broken and our men are scared. But look at you, little sister," he said. "You're still pretty and young. Still useful." He pushed the gun up just a little, making me lift my chin until I was staring at the ceiling.

My hands were shaking and he saw it, which made him happy. He was always satisfied seeing me scared of him.

"Here's how it works, Lena." His voice was soft now. "You're going to marry Nikolai Volkov. You're going to smile while you do it and spread your legs and play nice little wife. And if you don't..." He pressed the barrel harder against the soft spot under my jaw.

"I will bury you right next to Mom. You remember where we put her, don't you? Under the oak tree, and it still has plenty of space for one more."

I closed my eyes and the tears dropped from one side as I remembered watching them lower her into the ground when I was twelve.

Alexei was standing over the grave with no tears in his eyes because he had gotten what he wanted. Her life insurance and her half of the club.

"What do you say?" Alexei tilted his head like a curious dog. "You want to be a bride, or you want to be fertilizer?"

I swallowed hard, hating the next word I was about to say. "Fine!"

"Fine what?"

"Fine, I'll marry your fucking monster."

He pulled the gun back and patted my cheek with his free hand. "There she is. That's my good little sister."

I walked outside of the armory with my knees shaking and a lump in my throat without looking back.