Claimed By My Ex’s Biker Uncle
By the seventh, they stopped seeing me as Draven’s mate, and started seeing me as their advantage.
Dust coated the training track behind the abandoned quarry. The air smelled like burnt rubber and heat. Engines roared in staggered patterns as I stood in the center, arms folded.
“Again!” I shouted.
Jax took the curve too fast, he nearly slid out.
I stepped forward, grabbed his helmet before he could remove it, and tilted it toward the track.
“You reacted,” I said, voice firm. “Don’t react. Anticipate. Feel the shift before it happens.”