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Old Lady of the Iron Crown

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 1179    |    Released on: 22/09/2026

y P

d spike of pain drag

k my shoulder, wr

leared-I curved my upper body over the t

set man wearing a faded leather c

r's enforce

, slapping a crinkled stack of pape

vocable Surrender of Parental Rights a

mattress, knocking the pap

t o

, crossing tattooed

s chapter property, and you walk with fifty bucks and your skin in

re Viper's arrogant scrawl was a

augh scraped past

t page, brought it to my chest, a

, meeting his ugly stare,

19 from his hip and jammed the cold steel m

inger tightening on the trigger. "Sign the back

up against the barrel, locking m

to look me in the eye w

d drop, the door swung

epped into th

led neatly to his forearms, dark trousers, and

e carried a heavy s

effortless silence of a man

him. "Who the fuck are you? This is

t waste a sin

ed fingers clamping around the thug'

ed through the room as bone

g the Glock as his hand floppe

ished boot, the newcomer kick

o freeze blood. "Or I will sever the radial artery in your

whimpered, scrambled backward out the doorwa

icked shut. Silen

glinting across his gold-rimmed glasses b

aring my teeth like a cornered wolf. "Who sent

stainless tray, popping the

a pre-fill

nd vibrating in the small space. "And Jaxson Vance doesn't hav

s blotting out the harsh fluorescent

apped, lashing out to

torn gown down my left shoulder, b

and froze

mes, his pupils nar

scar etched deep into my shoulder blade-th

his chest in a s

es and yanked the fabric back up, wincing as pai

breath, a muscle ticking vio

ished from his face, replac

to a low, reverent rumble. "I am going to stop your bleedin

ped gently but immovably around my bicep, smo

ns, instantly blunting the r

ds grew heavy as thirty hours of

ncet, prick my ring finger, and press a bead of crimson

portable black diagnostic a

er

ross the analyzer's LCD scr

45%..

against my ribs

ngers dug into the rusted metal table,

e

shed solid, bl

RECT DESCENDANT: 99.98% PATERNAL C

utal seconds, swallowing the

ty y

tate lines from California to Maine, hunting for

ere s

clinic, discarded like roadkill by a two-bit, botto

back to

her arms still locked around her newborn twins with the feroc

ood ran pure

d in asphalt and iron, and these b

of my custom cut and pulled out t

y toggle and slammed t

y, low, and deadlier than a hollow-point round.

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Old Lady of the Iron Crown
Old Lady of the Iron Crown
“I was sweating on a stained cot in a rundown clinic, enduring agonizing labor to deliver my twins. My boyfriend, Viper, the President of the Raven MC, was right next door. But he wasn't there to support me. He was buying the whole clubhouse a round of drinks to celebrate his new girlfriend's birthday. Instead of coming to see his newborn children, he sent a thug with a loaded Glock and a legal contract. The prospect shoved the cold steel against my forehead, demanding I sign my parental rights over to the club and walk away with nothing. If I refused, he promised to dump our bodies in the swamp. In the hallway, the club girls laughed, calling me a worthless charity case. "Sign the paper, or I leave three corpses in this bed." I clutched my fragile babies to my chest, my heart turning to dead ash. I had given that man my youth and loyalty, only to be discarded like trash. I didn't understand how someone could be so ruthlessly cruel to his own flesh and blood. Before the hammer could drop, a mysterious man in a tailored suit calmly walked in and shattered the prospect's wrist. He took one look at the faded scar on my shoulder, ran a rapid blood test, and revealed a truth that shook my world. I wasn't an unpatched stray, but the long-lost daughter of the most feared motorcycle club president in the country. Now, with a two-hundred-bike army at my back, it was my turn to hunt.”