All Chapters of KIDNAPPED BY MY BIKER OBSESSION: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The compound woke slowly under a gray morning sky. Repairs from the latest Viper probe were still ongoing, the metallic clang of tools echoing across the yard like a constant reminder that peace was an illusion.  Hazel moved through the garage with heavy steps, her body betraying her at every turn. The morning sickness had worsened overnight — waves of nausea that left her clammy and dizzy. She had already thrown up twice before anyone else stirred, rinsing her mouth with water from the sink and forcing herself to keep moving. Mikey was already there, half-buried under a bike, singing off-key to some old rock song blasting from a battered speaker. “Morning, boss lady! You look like you fought a bottle of bad whiskey and lost. Need me to fetch you some grease-stained coffee?” Hazel forced a tired smile. Mikey’s dumb humor was one of the few things still grounding her. “Just tired, kid. P

Tiffany stood in the dim warehouse, whiskey still buzzing in her veins. King leaned back in his chair, knife spinning lazily between his fingers. The two Viper guys hung back by the door, watching. Tiffany swallowed. “Hazel’s pregnant. Reaper’s kid. He announced it today. Whole club’s kissing her ass now. She’s carrying the next little Reaper.” King froze mid-scrape. The knife clattered on the table. His face went through it fast—eyes wide, mouth slack for a second, then this dark fury mixed with something hungry. He leaned forward slow, voice low. “Pregnant. With his. She’s carrying that bastard’s child?” “Yeah. Jax is doting like a damn fool.” King’s hand clenched into a fist on the table. He breathed out hard through his nose. “She was supposed to be mine. That fire in her, the way she fights... I wanted her

The compound felt almost normal for once. Sun was up, no fresh bullet holes in the fence, and the garage hummed with regular work instead of panic repairs. Jax stood at the head of the strategy table in the back room, maps spread out, Dagger leaning next to him. A couple senior brothers crowded around.  “We hit King’s warehouse on the east side soon,” Jax said, voice low. “Not tomorrow, but soon. He’s gone quiet too long. Means he’s planning something bigger.”  Dagger nodded, tapping a route. “We need better eyes first. Send a couple prospects on a fake supply run, see if they draw anything out. Hazel’s idea about the thermal cams on the back fence is solid. Already got two installed.”  One of the older brothers grunted. “Still don’t like that her blood’s tied to this mess, but... she’s been right on

The bike kept rolling deeper into the wrong territory. Hazel’s arms tightened around Tiffany’s waist. Her stomach twisted worse than any morning sickness.This isn’t right. Jax said Route 9. Chop shop. Why the fuck are we heading east?“Tiffany,” she said louder, voice cutting over the wind. “Stop the bike. Now.”Tiffany didn’t slow down. The road curved into an old warehouse district. Dilapidated buildings with faded graffiti. A few Viper bikes parked near a chain-link gate. Two guys stepped out, hands near their waists. Hazel’s stomach dropped.The bike stopped. Tiffany killed the engine and swung her leg over.Hazel slid off fast, backing up a couple steps. “What the fuck is this? Tiffany, talk to me.”Tiffany turned, face calm but tired. “It’s done, Hazel. You took my life. My man. My place. Now I take yours.”Hazel swung without thinking. Her fist cracked against Tiffany’s jaw. Pain flared in her knuckles. Tiffany stumbled back but didn’t swing hard in return—just blocked and gra

Hazel’s eyelids felt heavy, like someone had glued them shut. She blinked slowly, the room swimming into focus. White ceiling. Soft lamp light. The bed was too comfortable—real sheets, not the compound’s rough ones. Her head pounded. Her arm ached where the needle had gone in.  She sat up too fast. The room spun. Nausea rolled through her, worse than any morning sickness. She pressed a hand to her stomach, breathing through her mouth.  Where the hell am I? The bike. Tiffany. King...  Memory slammed back hard. The fight. The syringe. Tiffany’s voice telling them to beat her. Hazel’s heart hammered so loud she could hear it in her ears. She looked around wildly.  Photos. Dozens of them. Taped to the walls, framed on the dresser, scattered on the nightstand. Her at Mr. Henderson’s shop, grease on her cheek, laughing