Aftermath

Hazel heard it. She lifted her head from Jax’s shoulder, eyes still red but sharpening again. “What now?” Dagger jerked his chin toward the older Viper who’d patched quick. The guy was slipping his phone back into his pocket, trying to look casual near the bikes. Jax’s arm tightened around Hazel. “Watch him,” he told Dagger low. “Everybody inside. Now.” The yard filled fast. Brothers shouting, engines cutting off, the new “recruits” herded in under gunpoint. The air smelled like exhaust, blood, and victory. But it felt thin. Hazel’s legs still shook as Jax helped her off the bike. She looked around at the familiar compound — her home once, before everything went to shit. It felt smaller now. Or maybe she was just bigger. Harder. Inside the clubhouse it was loud. Guys slamming beers,

New Blood, Old Poison

Hazel froze, fingers tight on the wrench. The garage lights buzzed louder in her ears. “Victor’s coming sooner?”Rico nodded, voice low. “Graves heard whispers. They want payback for King. Your head first. Figured you’d rather hear it straight instead of Jax sugarcoating it.”She set the wrench down slow. Metal clinked on concrete. Her palms were slick with grease and leftover blood from Crowe. “How soon?”“Days. Maybe less.” Rico shrugged one shoulder. “I gave Dagger the cache locations I know about. Ammo, cash, couple bikes stashed off Route 9. Proving I’m not full of shit.”Hazel wiped her hands on her jeans. The fabric stuck to her thighs. “Good. Keep proving it. But if you’re playing both sides—”“I’m not.” Rico met her eyes. “King fucked my brother over too. I’m in this now.”She believed him. Mostly. Trust was a thin fucking thing these days.Morning hit the compound like a hangover. Sun too bright. Heads too sore. The new prospects were already on shit duty — scrubbing bikes,

Ghosts in the Mirror

Hazel sat on the back steps of the clubhouse, grease still under her nails from the garage. The sun was low, painting everything orange and long-shadowed. Her knees throbbed from earlier training. Shoulders tight. Every muscle felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry. She rolled a half-empty beer bottle between her palms, the cold glass biting her skin. Rico leaned against the railing a few feet away, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t crowd her. Smart. “You ever get the dreams?” she asked quiet, not looking at him. “Every night,” Rico said. Smoke curled from his mouth. “King standing over my sister’s body, smiling. Wakes me up swinging sometimes.” Hazel nodded. The beer bottle felt heavier. “I see the pills. Feel them going down. Taste them. Then nothing. Just this… hole.” She pressed a hand to her stomach, fingers digging throug

Don’t play hero

Hazel’s boots pounded gravel as they sprinted back to the bikes. The knife from the safe house was still clenched in her fist, blade warm from her grip. Adrenaline surged hot through her veins, making her fingers tingle and her vision sharpen on every shadow between the trees. The radio on Dagger’s hip crackled again — more gunshots, Mikey cursing, glass shattering in the background. Jax swung onto his bike first, movements sharp and sure. No hesitation. President mode locked in. “Mount up! We ride hard. Hazel, you stay behind me. Rico, you’re on point with Dagger. Shoot anything that ain’t wearing our colors.” Hazel climbed on behind him, arms locking tight around his waist. His body felt solid under her hands — muscle and leather and controlled rage. The engine roared to life between her thighs, vibration rattling up her spine and into her teeth. Wind whipped her face as they tore out, tires

The Queen’s Shadow

The next morning the compound smelled like coffee, gun oil, and yesterday’s blood. Hazel stood in their small bathroom after a scalding shower, water still dripping down her back. The mirror was fogged. She wiped it with her towel and stared at the snake tattoo on her shoulder — twisted black ink curling over Jax’s old claim mark like it owned her. Her stomach turned. The skin around it was still raised and angry. She poked it hard with two fingers. Pain flared sharp, but not enough. Not close to what it deserved. “Fuck you,” she whispered to the mark. To King. To everything. She pulled on jeans and a tank top, the fabric sticking to her damp skin, and headed straight for the garage. The sun wasn’t even fully up yet. Her bare feet were cold on the concrete at first, then warmed as she moved. Inside, she found the blowtorch and a thin knife. Heated the blade over th

All Chapters of KIDNAPPED BY MY BIKER OBSESSION: Chapter 61 - Chapter 65

Aftermath

New Blood, Old Poison

Ghosts in the Mirror

Don’t play hero

The Queen’s Shadow