The Biker's Rules의 모든 챕터: 챕터 51 - 챕터 60

Date = 30 November Strange how one can go from top-of-the-world to down-in-the-gutter in just a week.Place = Rome (Terrazze Pedro Penthouse)POV - DamionI stare down at the photo on my phone. The one Chloe sent to me earlier.My girlfriend in the arms of another. Kissing.If I thought it was bad, then … it’s much, much worse now.At least then, I didn’t know the asshole was related to me.“Say something,” Dad pleads from behind me. The words land like a hoof to the gut. I know the feeling — I’ve been kicked by a horse before. Only this is worse.This lingers. This crawls around inside me, looking for organs to bruise.I have nothing.No words. No clever comeback. No script for this particular disaster.What are you supposed to say?Congratulations. Are you fucking kidding me? I’m thrilled. How wonderful. Wow, an older brother — always wanted one of those.None of it even comes close.No, I’m thinking way more elaborate — more in terms of — piss off and fuck me blind.But you don’t s

Date = 7 December Strange how slow time passes when you actually want it to go fast.Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)POV – MelaenaFor the final romantic flourish, I place the vase of fresh flowers dead center on the table.They smell like hope and rose-colored glasses.I step back, hands on my hips, and admire my work with a smile that’s about eighty percent pride and twenty percent please-don’t-let-this-end-in-therapy.The table is set properly — candles, plates, folded napkins that look intentional rather than panicked. Alejandro helped me light the fireplace earlier, which felt oddly symbolic, like the universe winking at me or setting me up for a spectacular emotional ambush. The food is tucked away in the oven, warm and waiting, much more stable than I am.I’m showered — freshly perfumed — and dressed. Well. I’m wearing Damion’s shirt — oversized, soft, smelling faintly of him and Dior — and jeans rolled at the ankles. No shoes.Wicked sexy lacy underwear underneath. The

Date = 18 December Seconds, minutes, hours, days are all blurred into a motionless standstill of life. I’m not dead, neither am I alive.Place = Montana (Big Sky) As far away from everyone as possible.POV - DamionI sit slouched, off-center, at the top of the ski slope, my snowboard haphazardly stuck into the snow, helmet abandoned next to it.I stare contemplatively out at the mountains, the snow-cloaked peaks coiled around me in a dizzying, impossible circle — sharp, majestic, merciless.It’s breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking. Like someone took a postcard from heaven, shook it violently, and plopped me right in the middle.It’s like being on top of the world — in sharp contrast to the bottom-of-the-earth, zero-altitude despair, I’m feeling.I suck in a lungful of pine-scented air, sharp enough to sting my lungs and wake me up a little, and yet it doesn’t reach the ache hammering in my chest.I remember my first time out here. Logan and I were wide-eyed freshmen, all teeth and

Date = 25 December I need a fucking X-mas miracle.Place = San Francisco (Uncle John’s house)POV – DamionMy brother smacks me between the shoulder blades the moment we enter Uncle John’s place, the sound sharp in the cold air.“Go get her, man,” he says, nodding toward the house. “I mean — look at you. What’ve you got to lose?”He’s right. Without her, I’ve already lost everything. And when you’re standing at zero, there’s nothing left to protect.“I just hope she listens.”Jackson snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that. That’s my bullheaded sister you’re talking about.”He claps my back anyway, a quiet show of faith. And he’s right too. She is stubborn. But so am I.And if she won’t listen, I’ll make her — because she’s worth the fight, every last round of it.“She’s in there,” Enrique murmurs, tipping his chin toward the small bathroom under the stairs.I step up to the door, suddenly jittery, like a feral cat trapped in a dog pound. Water runs inside. My pulse pounds in my ears. Then

Date = 26 December In just 24 hours the earth has shifted again. Right side up this time.Place = San Francisco (on the road)POV – DamionWARNING – sex scene!!!Uncle John is already in the kitchen when we come down, the old kettle rattling like it’s clearing its throat before a sermon. Morning light slants through the lace curtains, turning the floating dust into gold glitter. The house smells like roasted coffee beans and fried bacon and something warm and safe — the kind of smell that makes you want to stay forever.“Are you sure you don’t want to spend another day?” he asks, not looking at me, but handing me a mug heavy with dark coffee and too much cream.The cup warms my palms. The guilt warms my chest.Here, there’s no privacy … I share a room … and a bed … with Logan.“I think we need a little alone time,” I say carefully, but honestly. “To talk everything out properly.” I clear my throat. “And I’m leaving again tonight.”The words hang there, awkward and sharp-edged.Before