CHAPTER 41: WEIGHT OF THE CROWN

POV ESMERAYSix months had transformed Blackridge into a city of whispers and steel. The ruins of the Vance Tower had been cleared, leaving a hollowed-out scar in the skyline that served as a constant reminder of the night the Phantoms had reclaimed their throne. But as I stood on the balcony of the clubhouse, the cool March wind whipping my hair, I realized that the city didn't just feel different—I felt different.I was eight months along now. The "little bird" had become a restless, powerful force inside me, a constant reminder of the life Ruan and I had forged in the fire. I moved slower, my center of gravity shifted, and my midnight-blue silk dresses had been replaced by oversized leather vests and soft tunics. But the 9mm was still tucked into the small of my back, and the silver ring on my finger felt heavier than ever."You're out here again, Doc."I didn't need to turn around to know it was Vulture. His boots made a specific, heavy rhythm on the metal grating of the balcony.

CHAPTER 42: CRADLE AND CANNON

POV ESMERAYThe "Vault" wasn't just a name anymore; it was a tomb of cold concrete and fluorescent flickering. Deep beneath the clubhouse, three floors below the roar of the Harleys and the smell of the road, I was trapped in a luxury cage. Ruan had lined the walls with silk and filled the room with the best medical equipment money could buy, but the air still tasted of recycled oxygen and impending doom.I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands white-knuckled as I gripped the railing. A wave of pain, sharper and more rhythmic than anything I’d felt before, rolled through my abdomen. I checked my watch.Four minutes apart."Not now," I whispered, my voice echoing in the sterile silence. "Please, not tonight."The silver rattle sat on the nightstand, its polished surface reflecting the cold light. It felt like a ticking bomb. Evelyn hadn't just sent a gift; she had sent a trigger. She knew my body was reaching its limit. She knew Ruan was at his most distracted.Suddenly, the floor benea

CHAPTER 43: BAPTISM OF IRON

POV ESMERAYThe ruins of The Vault were still smoldering, a blackened ribcage of steel and concrete rising from the industrial dirt of Blackridge. But Ruan Montague wasn't looking at the wreckage of his home. He was standing on the edge of the pier, his back to the flames, watching the fog roll off the Pacific.He wasn't running. He wasn't hiding.I sat in the back of a blacked-out SUV, my son—my little Arthur—wrapped in a bundle of soft cashmere and my own leather vest. He was sleeping, his tiny chest rising and falling with a peaceful rhythm that defied the violence of his birth. I watched Ruan through the window. He looked like a god of the underworld, his silhouette framed by the orange glow of the fire.The Phantoms weren't scattered. They were gathering.From every shadow of the district, Harleys were emerging. Fifty, a hundred, then two hundred bikes pulled into the perimeter, their headlights cutting through the smoke like the eyes of a thousand wolves. They didn't need a sign

All Chapters of Claimed by the Ruthless Biker: Chapter 41 - Chapter 43

CHAPTER 41: WEIGHT OF THE CROWN

CHAPTER 42: CRADLE AND CANNON

CHAPTER 43: BAPTISM OF IRON