Claimed by the Mafia Biker
All I saw was him, broken but unbowed, still mine even when the world wanted to tear us apart.
“I’m here,” I whispered fiercely. “And I’m not letting go.”
Blade cleared his throat again, breaking the moment. “Hate to ruin the heart-to-heart, but we’re here.”
He nodded to a dark building ahead—a rundown garage with its shutters pulled halfway down, paint peeling from the walls.
It looked abandoned.
It looked forgotten.
It looked… perfect.
“Inside,” Blade ordered, moving quickly to pry the door open with his shoulder. “Now.”