Awakening My Vicious Underground Biker Husband

vra

owed Brinley's franti

w, measured cadence-an i

like a discarded rag, alongside the heavy brass Harley keys she had so desperately fla

ght. The memory of her trachea collapsing beneath my grip lingered on my

into Evelyn's lap, running to Darrell wi

soon find out I had already clawed my way out of hell-and I was

room, walked over to the floor ven

eath, I lifted out a heavy, matte-black steel lockbox. It was the only thing my mother,

-vehicle collision on Route 9. The police called i

it was

ain tucked beneath my collar and slid it into the

a stack of worn financial ledgers, corporate deeds, a

mpire. North Street wasn't just a bankrupt warehouse; it held the specialized federal

heavy rigs welded with ballistic plating and built to cut through the desert without stopping, you couldn't even deliver a shipment of medical morp

My mother's elegant, cursive hand flowed across

connections into building Darrell Daugherty from a penniless law clerk into a state senator. But the moment he secured his seat, he grew ashamed of the woman w

am already gone. Do not trust your father. Do not trust anyone wearing a

past my lash line, hitting the

alone on a dark stretch of highway. But I w

f a lifetime where power wasn't dictated by bloodlines

wo lif

lessly blinded by love for Kingston Marshall, she had broken down completely when Darrell forced her to surrender her futu

iverse took pity on her broken spirit,

lator, my soul lived out an entire lifetime in another world-a hars

ttered bodies on frontlines and in black-site compounds, mastering human anatomy, nerve regeneration, and the darkest corners of biochemical toxicology. My surgical precision reached a level that comma

last time in that world, I tho

k here, trapped once more in the fragile, twe

fires of another life. What remained was the cold, calculatin

o balance every ledger. Everything they stole from me, everyth

ed the hands of a healer. But that merc

o the steel box, and clicked the lock shut.

ity mirror and look

s lived the soul of an apex trauma surgeon who had stared

hed through my mind: Darrell

ieced together from rumors: Erik "Grim" M

death sentence-a convenient way to discard an inconvenien

st calculated move in

w compound. But to an elite combat surgeon, a broken warlo

by my bare hands, would be the deadliest weapon I

y. A transaction seal

nock rattled against t

own and pulled the

oor, dressed in dark combat canvas, a hea

e taking over the mechanical bay at North Street. She was a master with engines, deadly wit

ed her mouth. "The rig is parked in the dead zone behind the eastern stables. Level-three ballistic plating installed in the doors, dual auxilia

ouse?" I asked, pulling my

ing his private security detail," Chloe said, adjusting th

oo

ck, and zipped it tight. I grabbed my reinforced black leather riding jacket from the hook, sl

n't look back at the room I

vice stairs like two shado

the blind spot of the courtyard cameras. We threw the packs into t

the transmissi

rolled past the stone pillars of the Daugherty estate, le

ribbon of Interstate 15, slicing strai

the Iro

ast I was going to