Billy Hargrove Leather Jacket Novels & Stories

When Adrian and I broke up, he knelt outside my door all night. When I finally agreed to get back together, he lit a bonfire in the main hall, invited the elders to witness it, and swore I would become his Luna. Then, right at the finish line of a racetrack, he hauled a trembling, sobbing blonde girl out of the “trophy,” draped his jacket over her shoulders, and turned gentle like he’d become a different man. He looked back at me and said, “Ann, don’t make a scene. She ended up like this because of us.” The next day, he said I should atone by pack law, kneel inside a vow circle drawn with salt and silver powder, and endure my wolf soul’s backlash under the moonlight. Later, he threw me into the basement she used to live in, forced me to survive the way she did, forced me to lower my head and apologize. What he didn’t know was that there was a little pup in my belly. And I wasn’t going to tell him. I’d wait until he was most off guard, slide the divorce papers in front of him, let him sign them with his own hand, then vanish cleanly and absolutely, with my child.

Eva never wanted this life—the roar of engines, the scent of leather and gasoline, the weight of her father's legacy crushing her shoulders. As the only daughter of the Crimson Reapers' president, she's spent years trying to escape the MC world. But when a bloody turf war threatens to destroy both her father's club and the rival Steel Vipers, there's only one way to broker peace: a union sealed in chrome and rebellion. Albert, the ruthless VP of the Steel Vipers, is everything Eva despises—violent, arrogant, and dangerously magnetic. He's got sins tattooed on his knuckles and vengeance carved into his soul. The arranged marriage is a cage for them both, a business deal written in bad blood and broken promises. She's supposed to be his old lady. He's supposed to be her protection. Instead, they're gasoline and matches—combustible, toxic, and one spark away from burning everything down. But as enemies close in and betrayal bleeds through both clubs, Eva and Albert discover that the line between hate and hunger is thinner than they thought.

My mom always said, "I've never played favorites. "You and your brother mean exactly the same to me." She said it so often I almost believed it. Growing up, anything my brother had, I had too. If he got a new pair of sneakers, so did I. If he signed up for coding classes, I was enrolled in the same ones. Even this year, when we came home for the holidays, my mom smiled as she handed each of us a neatly-packaged designer shopping bag. "I picked these out for you two at the store. One for each of you, exactly the same. "These outdoor brands are expensive, you know. A single jacket costs thousands. I'd never buy one for myself, but I don't mind splurging on you two." I took the jacket. It was well-cut, structured, and looked high-quality. A small warmth stirred in my chest. However, when I tried it on, the collar felt oddly irritating against my skin. Frowning, I pulled back the lining to check. There was a ring of yellowed sweat stains around the label, and tiny flakes of dandruff were caught in the Velcro. A faint musty smell lingered on the cloth, mixed with the stale odor of cheap tobacco. It was sour and impossible to ignore.

The day we were meant to be mated, my Alpha, Ford, was ambushed. Silver bullets shredded his car, sending it plunging off a bridge and into the river below. He was pronounced dead. Drowned. I was left pregnant with his heir, shattered by the raw agony of our severed mate bond. Then Ford's twin, Aiden, returned from abroad with his mate, Kyra. His identical face and a scent so similar to my mate's nearly drove me mad. A desperate part of me swore Ford was still alive. I told myself it was just grief. A widow's delusion. Until I overheard a hushed conversation and the horrifying truth slammed into me: the man pretending to be Aiden was Ford. He had faked his death. He'd let his own brother die in his place, all for Kyra—the other woman carrying his child. The grief that had crippled me instantly morphed into a cold, sharp rage. Ford didn't just break our bond; he shattered it. And I would make him pay. I wiped my tears and sent a single message to my brother, Billy, the Alpha of the Winterstone Pack. "Brother, I need a plane crash. He loves faking his death? Fine. Let him feel what it's like to truly lose a mate." Only when the news of my "death" spread did Ford reclaim his name. He knelt for seven days and nights in the ashes of the home we once shared, consumed by a grief of his own making.

My husband, Zeke Larson, rushed to the police station at night because his childhood sweetheart, Snow Lowell, had run over my father-in-law and killed him. Snow clutched Zeke’s jacket and trembled in fear. “Zeke, I’m so scared. I didn’t mean to kill anyone.” Zeke pulled her into his arms at once and glared at me like he wanted to kill me. “You were in the car too. Why didn’t you stop her?” I almost laughed. He was the one who insisted that Snow drive. He said she had just gotten her license and needed more practice, so he pushed her to take his car and give me a ride. “Forget it. He’s already dead. There’s no point arguing now. “We’ll just say your dad ran into the road without looking, and that’s how Snow hit him. “We can settle this privately. Snow has a performance in Vienne next month. She can’t have a stain on her record.” I froze for a moment. When he repeated himself, I finally realized that he thought the person who died was my father. I looked at Zeke and saw how natural it all seemed to him. I could not help but laugh. “This is not a private settlement I have the right to be part of.”

I’m the Vettori family princess. The only one. It was our fifth anniversary. A big dinner party at the estate. A waiter spilled red wine on my husband Marco, heir to the Rossi family. My best friend, Sofia, slapped the waiter. Hard. Then she was all over Marco, helping him out of his jacket. Her hand lingered on his waist. A second too long. I just stood there, watching. Sofia saw me. "I was just closer, that's all. Helping him clean up. Don't overthink it." I just smiled. Grabbed my glass. I went to make the rounds with the old dons from the other families. I would finish this night with my head held high. Later that night, Marco crawled into my bed, stinking of booze. His hands were on my waist. He wanted sex. I pushed him off. "The alliance is over," I said, my voice dead. "We're finished." Marco sobered up fast. His face went cold. "I'm trying to apologize here. You're divorcing me because Sofia helped me with my jacket?" I laughed. He didn’t get it. Not until I threw the proof of his betrayal in his face. Not until I cut him off from my family. Then he was on his knees, crying, begging me to forgive him.

By the fifth year Dylan Crewe dropped me on a remote island, I finally learned submission. He brought his sugar baby, a college student, along with a Doberman to pick me up. I sank to my knees, wiped the sand off his leather shoes with my sleeve, and bent my back as a step for them. “Your duty from here on out is to take care of Tammy Bates. She and the Doberman are your family now.” I complied with his demand with a smile. Dylan took over my family’s empire, pushed my parents to the depths of despair until they jumped to their deaths, while I was abandoned in the middle of nowhere to break me. He succeeded in his venture. Back in the familiar manor, I couldn’t recognize the place I once called home. My alarm clock rang at 4 o’clock every morning, as my day would start with a special diet for Dobie and its grooming session. At nine o’clock, I would lay out Tammy’s outfit for the day and be her literal punching bag at the gym. I would have the drinks and food ready for Tammy’s friends in the evening, as she kidded around with her friends about how she tamed the once proud, notoriously spoiled heiress of Hedgewood’s high society.

Lyra Cross knew exactly what she was doing when she walked down that aisle. Marrying Killian Maddox wasn’t love, it was strategy. A peace treaty in a leather jacket. The Crimson Fangs’ princess had just one mission: infiltrate the Iron Revenants, spy on the enemy, and burn their empire from the inside out. What she didn’t plan for was Dominic “Grave” Maddox. Her new father-in-law. Forty-two. Billionaire. Biker king. Deadly in every way that mattered. One kiss from him, and the mission started to crumble. Somehow he saw through her lies, stripped her walls bare, and made her forget who she was supposed to be. The way he looked at her wasn’t right… it was sinful. And when he touched her, it felt like a war she didn’t want to win. Back home, her father and her biker-boyfriend Marcus were waiting for the signal. They thought she was still their weapon. But Grave made her something else entirely. His. Now she is trapped between blood and desire, vengeance and addiction because the man she’s falling for isn’t just her enemy… he might be the monster who killed her mother. When that truth comes out, it won’t just break their twisted bond. It will start a war that leaves nothing but ash and sin behind.

When my mother won a million dollars from a lottery ticket, she prepared an envelope for each of her three children. After we opened them, my younger brother and younger sister each found a bank card inside. But from my envelope, two 1-dollar coins clinked onto the floor. Seeing me freeze, a trace of unease flickered across Mother's face. "Cassian," she said hesitantly, "Logan and Sienna suffered a lot growing up because your father passed away so early. So I gave each of them 500 thousand dollars as compensation. "You're the eldest son—like a father to them. Don't fight with them over this, okay?" I glanced down at the faded down jacket I had worn for years, the fabric so worn that it had lost its color. Then, my eyes drifted to my younger brother's limited-edition sneakers and to the designer bag slung over my sister's shoulder. Mother seemed to have forgotten that when Father died, I had only been eight. I smiled faintly. "Alright. I won't fight them for it." Hearing this, Mother let out a long breath of relief. The next second, my voice turned cold. "Then I won't fight for the responsibility of supporting you in your old age either."

On the third year of our anniversary, the cruise ship Louise York—my fiancee—and I were on sank. I gave her the only life jacket we had before getting dragged under the currents and losing contact with the world. Three years later, after I healed from my injuries, I rushed back just in time to see her getting married to my adopted brother. Since she owed me her life, she was forced to marry me instead. That caused her to start hating me, because I had separated her from the man she loved. Even my parents accused me of being immature. They said that I was ruining my brother’s happiness. Their coldness and rejection caused me to become obsessive, and I fell into despair. Then, my family’s enemy came looking for revenge. To save my life, Louise ended up being stabbed right into her heart. Blood gushed out of her as she tried her best to drag me to a safe place. “Nathan, I’m returning the life I owe you. I just hope that you won’t bother me again. I just want… to be with Stanley…” I felt my chest twist in pain as I died full of hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back to the day I crashed their wedding.