All Chapters of The Biker's Rules: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Date = 31 OctoberPlace = San Francisco (Reaper venue)POV - DamionI swing her lightly onto the dance floor, a playful spin that ends with her pressed right in front of me.Face-to-face with the 5-foot-4, heart-stopping, stubborn-as-hell beauty. The kind of woman who could ruin a man with a look and then ask him why he’s bleeding.The music hasn’t even started yet, but the air between us already feels thick — like the room’s holding its breath.You hurt me you did … Several timesIt hurts to admit that we’re no different … I find it hard to commitBut you don’t even tryStill, I’m better with than without youI pull her tight.She hesitates — just a fraction of a second — then closes her eyes and exhales like she’s stepping off a ledge. Her body softens, her breasts brushing my chest, her thighs align with mine. And everything in between finds its match as we sway, slow and deliberate.She smells like vanilla, roses, and champagne, and something sharper underneath — her.“Culture Code

Date = 5 November Same day, different venue.Place = San Francisco (Inferno)POV - MelaenaA neon sign lights up above us.INFERNO.Red light bleeds over the windshield, turning everything a little sinful by default.I circle the building to the back, tires crunching over gravel as we head for the third entrance — the one that doesn’t exist to the public. Inferno has rules. Lots of them. The front door is for anyone with an ID and patience. The side door is for VIPs with egos and special disks.And then there’s this one — family and friends only.The closed-circle disk clicks, the gate slides open, and we descend into the underground parking like we’re being swallowed by the club itself. From here, a narrow staircase leads straight to the VIP section on the second floor — the only place I’m allowed to exist without someone checking my birthdate like it matters.I park.Lucinda just stares.“I’ve … never been here,” she says, eyes wide, voice hushed like we’ve entered a cult. She pushe

Date = 6 NovemberPlace = San Francisco (Mel’s house) I had to go. Obligations.POV - DamionBANG-BANG-BANG!“Go left,” Logan barks through my headset, his voice clipped and sharp. “We’ll hit them from two sides.”I swing my character left, boots crunching over digital gravel.THUD. My screen jolts red.“Fuck.” I duck behind the rusted shell of an abandoned car, heart racing like this is real life and not pixels and caffeine. I spin, scanning rooftops.BOOM. BOOM.“It’s Sean,” I shout. “Roof. Third building.”“Keep him busy. I’m going in.”I pop out, firing blind to draw heat.BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG.“Holy fuck!” Someone touches my shoulder. In real life.I jolt like I’ve been tasered, wrenching my headset off and nearly dislocating my neck in the process.Mel stands there.In HER living room.Alive. Breathing. Radiating fury.My mouth moves into an automatic grin.Because of this planned game date, I was FORCED to leave her with that smug, too-pretty trainer. The one that makes my g

Date = 7 November Waiting for her to arrive on her date.Place = San Francisco (Scoma’s Restaurant)POV - Damion“Are you seriously considering a third dessert? Or are we finally admitting defeat and leaving?” Thalia’s eyes drill into me with that perfect mix of impatience and amusement.She’s got a point. We’ve been parked in this cozy little corner of Scoma’s since just before four o’clock. Because — oh yeah — the cryptic message said … Scoma’s. Pick you up at 4.Now it’s way past five, and there’s no sign of her or the douchebag.“Can you tell me again why we are here exactly?” I stare into Thalia’s teasing face. A wicked little curl tugging at her lips. If she weren’t one of my absolute favorite humans, I’d have already strangled her with a breadstick.Why are we here? I wish I had a neat, inspiring reason. Instead, I’m left with the usual suspects — stupidity, jealousy, and a sprinkle of possessiveness. All wildly inadequate excuses for this torture.Then, like a scene out of a b

Date = 8 NovemberPlace = San Francisco (Damion’s house)POV - Melaena“This whole thing has been coming for a long time,” Uncle John says, his voice roughening, like the words are scraping their way out. “We just never thought it would touch you. Not like this.” He swallows hard. “Turns out … we were wrong.”The room seems to shrink. Even the house — this warm, beautiful dream of a place — feels like it’s holding its breath.Haley stands abruptly and disappears into the kitchen, the soft clink of glass echoing louder than it should.“Who exactly is WE?” Ilkay asks, his brow furrowing. There’s a sharp edge under his calm, the kind that says he already knows he won’t like the answer.Uncle John’s dull gray eyes slide to Jackson. They linger there a beat too long.His jaw tightens, lips pressing into a thin, colorless line like he’s sealing something dangerous inside. The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, crawling over my skin.Haley returns with a bottle of water and presses i