All Chapters of Ride Or Ruin The Biker Who Owned My Soul: Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

ARC I: THE TRADEElara's POVI was handed over like a package.No goodbye. No apology. Just the weight of my father’s hand on my shoulder as he pushed me forward and stepped back into the shadows he had created.The Iron Reapers’ compound loomed ahead—steel gates, barbed wire, engines growling like caged animals. The smell hit me first: oil, smoke, leather, and something darker like fear, maybe violence that had soaked into the ground and never left.Men stood everywhere. Big men, scarred men. Their eyes tracked me openly, assessing, uninterested in hiding what they saw—weakness, softness, leverage.I kept my spine straight.I would not beg.A motorcycle engine cut through the air, slow and deliberate. The sound pulled every gaze toward the center of the yard. My breath hitched as a black bike rolled forward, sleek and predatory, its rider wearing darkness like a second skin.He dismounted with unhurried control.Kade Cross.They called him Ruin.I knew his face from whispered rumors

Elara's POVThe proposal didn’t come with a ring.It came with a contract, a loaded gun on the table, and the unmistakable understanding that saying no would get people killed.I stood in Ruin’s office while the compound outside buzzed with night preparations—engines revving, men shouting, metal clanking. Inside, the air was heavy and still, like the moment before lightning struck.Ruin sat behind the desk, broad shoulders filling the chair, hands folded as if he were about to negotiate a business merger instead of my life.I remained standing.“You said this was temporary,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “You said it was a solution.”“It is,” he replied calmly.“That’s not an answer.”His gray eyes lifted to mine. Cold, focused but there was something else there, buried deep—tension, maybe. Or restraint.“The Bratva won’t accept appearances anymore,” he said. “They want permanence.”“And permanence,” I said slowly, “means marriage.”“Yes.”The word echoed in my skull.Marriag

Elara's POV The first night of our marriage began with distance.Ruin laid the blanket on the floor with deliberate care, smoothing it as if order could tame the chaos humming beneath our skin. He didn’t look at me while he worked. I didn’t look away.The room smelled faintly of leather and smoke, of iron and something warm I couldn’t name. His quarters were sparse—no personal photographs, no softness. Just a bed, a desk, a chair, and the weight of a man who knew how to survive without comfort.“You should sleep,” he said quietly.I was already lying on the bed, fully clothed, my hands folded over my stomach like I could hold myself together that way. “So should you.”He paused. “I will.”On the floor.The thought sent a strange ripple through me—not relief, not fear, but something fragile and intimate. The kind that grows in the dark when no one is watching.I turned onto my side, facing him.Ruin removed his boots, then his jacket, movements efficient, controlled. When he lay down

Elara's POVThe shadow landed behind Ruin without a sound.For half a second, my mind refused to understand what my eyes were seeing, how death could move so quietly, how danger could slip into a locked room as it belonged there.Then instinct screamed.“Ruin!”He turned just as the intruder lunged.The room exploded into motion. Ruin slammed into the man mid-strike, driving him hard into the wall. The sound of bone cracking made my stomach twist. A knife clattered to the floor. Ruin didn’t give the man time to recover—his fist came down, brutal and precise.I backed away, heart hammering, every lesson from the last twenty-four hours screaming at me to survive.Rule two: don’t wander alone.Rule four: bleed quietly or scream.I screamed.Axel burst through the door, gun raised. Mara followed, eyes sharp, already assessing exits, angles, and blood.The intruder was young. Barely older than me. Blood streamed from his mouth as Ruin hauled him upright by the collar.“Who sent you?” Ruin