All Chapters of The Biker King's Black Widow : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Zara's POV Family dinner. Two words that should mean warmth, laughter, and people who give a damn about each other. In the Devereaux household, however, family dinner means manipulation dressed up as manners, cruelty served on expensive plates, and my father reminding everyone that he owns the room. I would rather stick my hand into a blender. Unfortunately, Theo will be there. And that changes everything. I stand in front of the mirror, studying the faint bruise on my cheek. The fight from last night left its mark, but I refuse to cover it with makeup. Let them look. Let them wonder. My black dress hugs my curves, the hem falling just above my knees. I leave my long hair loose around my shoulders and add a pair of black heels. If I'm going to endure an evening with my family, I might as well look like the last person anyone should underestimate. A knock sounds against the bedroom door. "Are you ready, Little Dove?" I turn. Damon leans against the doorframe, dressed in bl

Zara's POV By the time Damon pulls into the driveway, Theo is asleep in the back seat, his little head tilted against the side of his car seat and one hand curled around the wooden car he refused to leave behind.I turn to look at him, and the anger that has been simmering inside me since dinner settles into something heavier.How the hell does a child that small already know what it feels like to be unwanted?I reach back carefully and brush a strand of hair away from his forehead. He stirs but doesn't wake, and I let out a quiet breath before turning toward Damon."Thank you."He glances at me, one eyebrow lifting. "For what?""For not making tonight worse.""Your father managed that all by himself."Despite everything, a small laugh escapes me. "You have no idea.""Actually, Little Dove, I'm beginning to get a pretty good idea."His voice is calm, but his eyes remain on me for a moment longer than necessary before he opens his door and gets out.I climb out too, and together we ca

Zara's POV I don't remember much about the drive away from that hotel, but I remember what happened afterward.The crash.For four years, I've blamed the man on that motorcycle for one of the worst mornings of my life, and if anyone asked me whether I'd do things differently, I'd tell them to go to hell. He was arrogant, aggressive, and had the nerve to act as though I had deliberately ruined his day.I can still remember wanting to punch him.Actually, I did something considerably more satisfying.I slapped him.Hard.But I'm getting ahead of myself.I pull into my driveway and switch off the engine, staring at the house while the memory settles over me. It's strange how some moments stay sharp while everything around them fades. I can't remember the stranger's face from the hotel, and I still don't know what happened during those missing hours, but I remember that motorcycle, the sound of metal scraping, and the furious man who climbed off it.I'd been driving without thinking, des

Zara's POV I should have known my day was going too well.The moment I step out of the boutique and spot Victor Black leaning against his car across the street, every pleasant thought I have entertained since breakfast disappears. He looks exactly as I remember him, dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit, his expensive watch catching the afternoon sunlight, his dark hair perfectly styled, and that handsome face wearing an expression of wounded regret that would probably fool anyone who didn't know what an excellent liar he could be.Unfortunately for him, I know.I know what he looks like when he lies, how his voice softens when he wants something, and how quickly he can turn himself into the injured party when his own actions threaten to expose him. I used to find those little mannerisms endearing. I used to believe they meant he trusted me enough to let me see the vulnerable man beneath his polished exterior.Apparently, I was an idiot."Zara," he calls when I start towards my car.

Zara's POV I barely sleep.Every time I close my eyes, I see the photograph.Me standing outside the warehouse, dressed in my black hoodie, my hands wrapped after the fight. The angle is clear enough to show that whoever took it wasn't simply passing by. They were watching me.Watching the Black Widow.My stomach twists at the thought.For years, I've kept my underground life separate from everything else. My family knows nothing about it. Victor knows nothing about it. And Damon certainly doesn't know that his supposedly troublesome wife spends her nights fighting strangers for money and a reputation that makes men twice her size think twice before stepping into a ring with her.The underground world is the one place where my surname means nothing. Nobody cares who my father is, who my sister sleeps with, or which billionaire I was supposed to marry. They care about whether I can fight.And I can.But if my identity becomes public, that freedom disappears. People will start asking q