Love Reading-y ad: 🔥Over 99% readers recommend👍

Hi lovely mamas, I’m Dr. Sarah Lynn, a wellness expert, and first of all, I’m just a busy mom, same as all of you. I’m not here to sell you any overhyped fitness trick today. I just want to share my genuine postpartum struggles and the life-changing shaping essential that helped me regain my confidence. I still feel upset thinking about the tough time right after I gave birth to my baby boy two years ago 😔. Before pregnancy, I kept a slim and toned figure. I loved wearing fitted dresses and high-waisted jeans, and I was always confident to show my curves. But everything changed completely after I had my baby. My lower belly was covered with loose and saggy skin. No matter how hard I held my breath and sucked in my stomach, the stubborn belly bulge never went away. I stopped buying all my favorite slim-fit clothes and filled my wardrobe with oversized hoodies and loose dresses instead. I tried my best to avoid family photos, dared not look closely at myself in the mirror, and slowly lost the courage to hang out with my friends. As a wellness researcher, I tried almost every mainstream weight-loss method to get my pre-pregnancy body back. I strictly cut down my food intake and gave up all desserts and snacks I loved, yet my belly fat hardly reduced. I forced myself to get up early for one hour of gym cardio and strength training every day. But frequent late-night breastfeeding left me exhausted, dizzy and low in energy. Eventually, I had to quit my fitness plan halfway. Then I kept wondering: is there a gentle and time-saving way for busy moms to reshape our bodies? We spend nearly all day looking after kids, cleaning houses and dealing with endless family chores. We never have enough spare time or energy for extreme dieting and tiring workouts. We deserve a milder way to get our ideal curves back. For nearly half a year, I tested various shaping wears and sweat-boosting fitness products. Most ordinary shapewear was either too tight to breathe, rolled down constantly when I bent over to hold my baby, or only brought simple squeezing with no real fat-burning effect. Until I tried this 4-IN-1 Moringa & Berberine Sweat Sculpting Shorts 🩳. What makes these shorts far better than regular shapewear? ✅ Targeted micro-energy particle fabric design You never need high-intensity gym exercise to see results. Just wear them for only 30 minutes every day during your daily life: looking after kids, tidying your home, walking outdoors or doing simple stretches. The special fabric can accelerate local blood circulation, help your waist, belly and hips sweat evenly, gradually burn stubborn accumulated fat, and safely tighten loose postpartum abdominal skin without painful compression. ✅ High-waisted ergonomic sculpting cut This high-rise design fully covers your whole abdomen, tucks your protruding belly firmly, smoothes waist bulges and naturally lifts your sagging hip line. There is no uncomfortable squeezing, rolling edges or ugly indentations left on your skin after taking it off. It can be completely hidden under all kinds of daily outfits without showing awkward underwear lines. ✅ Ultra-breathable high-elastic soft fabric The skin-friendly, sweat-wicking lightweight material fits all seasons perfectly. You can wear it from morning to night at home or when you go shopping, never feeling stuffy or itchy. It covers sizes from petite to plus-size, fitting all body types comfortably. My real transformation & authentic feedback from hundreds of mom followers I kept wearing these sculpting shorts for 30 minutes every day for two months while taking care of my baby. Gradually, my loose belly became firmer, my waistline got clearer, and my hips looked much perkier. I took all my old slim dresses out of the closet again, and I couldn’t stop smiling every time I looked into the mirror. Hundreds of my followers followed my recommendation and tried these shorts, sending me sincere private feedback. Many moms said they no longer avoid taking photos, dare to wear bikinis on family trips, and finally got back the self-confidence that faded away after becoming mothers. Exclusive limited-time discount prepared only for my followers To thank every mama for trusting my professional wellness advice, I’ve applied for a limited exclusive offer: 👉 Up to 50% off sitewide for a short period only 👉 90-day hassle-free money-back guarantee If you keep wearing these shorts consistently for 2 to 3 months without seeing obvious improvements on your waist, belly and hip lines, you can apply for a full refund with no complicated conditions. If you are also troubled by postpartum body anxiety, fed up with strict diets and ineffective exhausting workouts, and eager to find a safe and effortless way to reshape your curves… don’t miss this chance to reward yourself and rebuild your confidence 💃. Click the link below to place your order now, and let us start our body transformation journey to embrace a better version of ourselves together. #PostpartumBodyTransformation #MomWellnessJourney #BusyMomFitness #BellyFatLossTips #BodySculptingShapewear #HomeWorkoutEssentials #WomenConfidenceRebuild

Chapter 1 KISAREL. I still heard his cold voice in my head as I stepped out of the taxi. "Get your ass back here in two hours, if you want to keep your new position." Mr. Oceans Stark’s words had a way of following me even in my sleep, like they were branded into my skin. Cold, merciless, and ruthless... Getting promoted from a receptionist to his personal assistant felt less like climbing the ladder and more like walking into a gilded cage. It both excited and terrified me. The pay was beautiful, and the perks were enviable. I would travel with him on business trips, see the world, and for once, escape the mess I’d been born into. But the price of it? Being tied to him almost every second of the day. Mr. Oceans Stark, a man so ruthless he once shredded a senior executive’s twenty-year career in under five minutes without even breaking a sweat. He was escorted out in handcuffs, on charges Mr. Stark’s lawyers dug up overnight. One day, the man was running meetings, the next he was begging for bail money. By then, everyone knew: one wrong step, and he could erase you from your career, your reputation, maybe even your freedom. Still, today calls for celebration. And I had just about an hour to celebrate my new promotion with my fiancé, Jace, before packing my bags and meeting my boss at his private jet for our first business trip together. I had already rehearsed every line I'd say to Jace the moment I pushed his door open. He hadn’t answered my calls, but that only made the surprise sweeter. Ja-ce always told me to let him know before visiting — rules I followed without question because I loved him, and because he said he loved me too. He was obsessive and possessive in ways I found... Thrilling? I never said no to him. Never once. But today, just once, I would. I clutched the promotion letter like it was a trophy, and walked through the gates with a smile so wide even the guard seemed taken aback. "Good evening," I greeted, but he answered me in a weird kind of way that I didn't really want to read meanings into. I adjusted my round glasses, clutching my handbag securely to my shoulder. The moment I pushed the front door open, I came face to face with Tisha, the very maid Jace had refused to let go of, no matter how many times I'd told him I didn't like her. She seemed not to like me either, but tonight her face carried something different — pity, like I’d already lost a game I didn’t know I was playing. “Hey…” Her voice was softer than I’d ever heard it, the word dragged out like a quiet warning. That was strange. “Hi, Tisha,” I replied, already heading for the stairs. “He’s in, right?” Not that I needed an answer. She hesitated, wringing the edge of her apron. “You… might want to wait down here.” She stuttered, and I almost scoffed. "Why?" I paused and looked at her over my shoulder, but she just stood there like she had seen a ghost. I'd be a liar if I said uneasiness hadn't begun to spread through me at the weird behaviors of the staff. My heart picked up an erratic rhythm, the kind that makes your palms sweat and your breath shorten, no matter how much you try to calm yourself. My rehearsed smile faltered instantly. But I took in a shaky breath and told myself I was only being dramatic. If Jace were in any kind of danger, it would have been on the news already. So... No news... Meaning he was fine. I forced a smile for myself, tightened my grip on the letter, and continued walking, even though my breath kept stuttering as though my own body knew a truth my mind didn't know. The moment I approached his door, my legs went weak as I stopped dead in my tracks. I heard something... A sound that made my stomach cave in on itself "Fuck, baby, open up..." a moan, "Just like that. Fuck." That was Jace's voice. It sounded more like a grunt and a moan put together. It wasn’t just his moan that punched my heart — it was the rawness of it, the sound of him unraveling in ways he had never once done with me. Then I heard a voice that wasn’t mine. "Jace... Yes, baby... Right there..." And that was... That was Moonie. My oh-so-perfect cousin. The one who was supposed to be walking down the aisle with my boss, Mr. Oceanss Stark, in a matter of weeks. My eyes became blurry, and my brain blurred too, because I didn't even know when I moved. My legs propelled me straight to the door, and my trembling hands gripped the knob before my brain could scream Don’t. I pushed the door open with so much force that the hinges rattled. And then the floor seemed to vanish beneath me, as I saw my fiancé and the "perfect" woman my boss was crazy about, lying totally naked on the floor. She was on her hands and knees, hair wild, her head thrown back in shameless pleasure. Jace’s hands clamped her hips, driving into her with a hunger he had never once touched me with. My chest constricted, and my breath vanished as I struggled to speak. "Jesus, Jace!" Try as I may, my voice only came out as a shaky whisper. Jace froze. For a full second, he just stared at me, pale and stupid, before he jerked away from her and started fumbling for his shorts. Moonie didn’t even flinch. She just dropped onto the floor, panting, her hair sticking to her sweaty face like she’d just finished a workout. The air in the room was thick and sour. I could hear my own heartbeat thudding in my ears. “What the hell is this?” My voice cracked halfway through. I was shaking so badly that the letter in my hand fluttered to the carpet. Jace pulled the towel from the chair and wrapped it around his waist. “Arel — listen — it’s not —” "What I think?" I scoffed and completed the words for him. “Not you inside my cousin?” I snapped, my throat burning. Moonie laughed, letting out a low, ugly sound that scraped at my skin. “Oh, cut the bullshit, Jace. She walked in on us. The show’s over.” “Shut the fuck up, Moonie,” he barked, eyes wild. She rose slowly, completely unbothered, stretching her neck like a cat. “What did you expect, Kisarel? You really thought you could keep a man like Jace? Please.” She grabbed her dress from the vanity and slipped it on without looking away from me. “You’ve been too busy playing the good girl — glasses, neat hair, that stupid receptionist job — acting like brains make you desirable. Meanwhile, this man has needs. Real ones.” My stomach twisted. “Stop talking.” She stepped closer. “He told me himself. Said you’re boring in bed, that you blush when he touches you, that you act like sex is a favor instead of a need.” “Moonie, I swear to God…” Jace’s voice came out like a growl. She turned on him, smirking. “What? You’re going to hit me now? You already said you didn’t love her. Remember? You said even after we both get married, we’ll keep this going. Those were your words, baby.” Jace lunged, grabbing her arm. “Shut up!” I just stood there, watching the two of them — him, red-faced and desperate, her, grinning as if she’d already won. Something cold spread through my chest until I couldn’t even feel my fingers. “You both disgust me,” I said quietly. “Arel, please...” Jace took a step toward me. “Don’t.” My voice snapped. “Don’t come near me.” He froze. The look on his face — panic, guilt, something like fear — made me want to scream. Instead, I laughed, "Was this why you said I should always inform you before visiting? Oh, God." I broke down. I wanted to run until my lungs gave out, hide somewhere no one knew my name, bury my face in a pillow that didn’t smell like him, and cry until my throat burned. But everything I owned reminded me of Jace. The sheets, the pillow, the stupid mug he bought for my desk. I’d built my entire life around him these past two years, and now every inch of it felt contaminated. Moonie tilted her head, “You’ll thank me one day. At least now you know what he really wants. Maybe start by dressing like a woman, not a twelve-year-old schoolboy. Jace hates your boring cardigans, big, shapeless gowns, and baggy skirts.” My heart shattered again. Because Jace always told me he loved my clothes — that he liked that no man ever saw what was his. I blinked at him, my voice small. “So that was a lie, too?” He looked away, jaw tight, saying nothing. I turned my attention to Moon, “You’re engaged to Mr. Stark, Moonie. Aren’t you even scared I might tell him about this?” She laughed mockingly, “Oh, please. You? Tell him? You’ve never had the spine for that. You're just a pushover. The weak little orphan who should’ve been grateful we didn’t dump you in some shelter.” She took a step closer, gazing dead into my eyes. Her tone was like acid. Every word burned. I felt the sting crawl up my throat, but I bit it back. She wanted to see me break. “And I know you won't do anything to tarnish the image of the family who took you in when your pathetic parents decided to check out early, and left you in this world to suffer!" The vernon in her voice. God. "So, dear Kisarel, you won’t say a word. You never do. That’s why people like me win and people like you just… exist." She got me there. I owed Moon and her parents my life. I truly did. But God, I didn’t owe them my dignity. And let's see how far this goes. I picked up my promotion letter. There was no point sharing the great news anymore. The celebration died the moment I opened that door. I turned to Jace. He couldn’t even meet my eyes. “You know what’s fun-ny? I used to think you were the one person who’d never humiliate me. Guess I was wrong.” He reached for me again, stammering my name, but I stepped back. The movement felt like tearing myself out of glue. “Don’t ever call me again.” Now more than ever, I needed that business trip I had cursed some hours ago. Chapter 2 KISAREL. The cab stopped at the far end of the airport, where regular passengers weren’t even allowed. Through the tinted glass, I saw the silver body of Mr. Stark’s jet gleaming under the floodlights, his initials, O.S., painted near the tail. I wiped my face, grabbed the small luggage I’d thrown together after getting home from the betrayal scene, and stepped out. Since Moon's words about my choice of clothes, I began to doubt myself. I felt... Stupid and inadequate. I’d always thought I was beautiful — Jace said so a thousand times — but maybe I was never enough. Maybe I was the joke everyone else saw, and he just forgot to tell me. For all I know, I might even be the ugliest woman on earth right now. I tried to take off my glasses – not that they were medicated or anything – but I felt naked without them. So, I left them on. Trying to be who I was not made me feel even more stupid. The air was cold, but the moment I saw him, heat crept up the back of my neck. Mr. Oceans Stark. He stood beside the stairs to his jet, hands in his pockets, suit pressed within an inch of perfection. Even from here, he radiated total control. He wasn’t the kind of man you looked at twice. You looked once — because you couldn’t help it — and then you looked away before he caught you staring. Six foot three of controlled violence in a perfectly tailored suit. Broad shoulders, dark hair brushed back in a way that didn’t dare fall out of place, and those eyes… cold, emotionless, like they could undress you, dissect you, and dismiss you in one motion. "Good evening, Mr. Stark," I managed. He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me, a faint arch in his brow like the sound of my voice had interrupted his thoughts, and he was deciding whether to forgive that or not. Then his gaze flicked down, slowly assessing me. Jesus. I greeted his best friend, who was also his MD. "Mr. Harold." He managed half a smile before turning back to his phone. Of course, no one noticed this pathetic little girl trying to hold herself together during the hour-and-a-half flight. No one ever did. Inside the hotel lobby, I adjusted my blazer and forced my hands to stop trembling as I faced the receptionist. “Reservation for Mr. Stark, Mr. Harold, and Miss Harry,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. The woman smiled politely, then glanced at the fourth member of our group, Mandy, Harold’s girlfriend. Perfect and glossy as ever. “Oh, they’re together.” I gestured toward them, pretending confidence I didn’t feel. God, my eyes were becoming teary again. I just needed a room, a bathtub, and a place to cry without witnesses. After a moment, the receptionist frowned at the screen. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s no reservation under Miss Harry. Only Mr. Stark and Mr. Harold.” My pulse jumped. “What?” Behind me, that low, rich, controlled baritone rolled out. “Then make one.” Mr. Stark. I swallowed hard, staring at the counter. Even his voice had a certain effect on me that I had come to categorize as "fear," even though it doesn't fit that category. The clerk looked uneasy. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re fully booked for the night.” Of course. The National Electorate Conference will be taking place tomorrow. Every powerful name in the country was under this roof tonight. My stomach dropped. I must have forgotten to complete the reservation while I was busy calling Jace… before everything fell apart. I didn’t dare turn around. I could feel Mr. Stark’s gaze drilling through my spine. My palms were damp; my mind blank. “I... I'll find something... Another hotel...” "Hand us the key cards." I finally turned around, and the look in his eyes told me one thing clearly: I’d pay for this mistake. * Staying in the same room with Mr. Stark didn't even give me the alone time I looked forward to spending in a bathtub. I barely showered properly. My instincts kept flying around: What if Mr. Stark opens the bathroom door? What if I see a ghost and run out naked? What if... Every stupid possibility raced through my head until my heart started skipping beats. The idea of sharing a suite with the infamous Ocean Stark made every nerve in my body hum with panic. Although I cried a little, wiped my face, and did what any heartbroken idiot does at 11 p.m. — googled how to get over betrayal. The answers were ridiculous. ‘Go out with friends.’ I had none. ‘Do something spontaneous.’ I could barely breathe. ‘Revenge sex.’ I snorted out loud at that one. Revenge sex? With who? Jace was the only man I’d ever let close. No male friends, no flings, no one. Just me — pathetic, faithful, and now apparently obsolete. By the time I pulled myself together, Mr. Stark was seated on the couch, surrounded by files and his laptop, a half-empty glass of something dark sitting beside him. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms and the faint outline of veins that matched the precision in his movements. Everything about him was neat and intentional. And I always resisted the urge to admit how illegally handsome he was. I guess I had no right to even admit such a thing. It felt so wrong. I sat in the armchair beside him, careful not to brush against him. The distance between us was small but heavy, like sitting beside a thunderstorm before it breaks. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. My chest still ached from everything I’d tried to bury, and somehow his calm made it worse. He hadn’t looked at me once since we entered the suite, not even during the flight. That was the thing about Ocean Stark — he could make you feel completely invisible while reminding you you’re being watched. We worked in silence. I was sorting out schedules when my phone buzzed beside me. Once. Twice. Then again — Jace’s name flashing on the screen. I froze, praying my boss hadn’t noticed. "Turn that off." His voice. That voice again. It sent a trail of goosebumps running down my arms. Thankfully, I was wearing a big polo shirt, so he wouldn't see it. I fumbled for the phone, thumbs slipping as I silenced it. I didn’t dare look up, but I could feel his eyes on me now. There was silence, making it difficult to hide the soft sobs and sniffles that were choking me and threatening to spill. “If you can’t compartmentalize, you’ll never last.” His chilling voice said, and I paused. For a second, I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined them. My heart skipped, then tripped over itself. I looked up slowly. His eyes — cold, grey, unreadable — met mine. I swallowed a dry lump as a tear escaped my eye. “I… I’m sorry?” My voice came out thin, breaking on the last syllable. He leaned back against the couch, posture unbothered. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, the faintest shadow of muscle visible beneath. His veins shifted under the light as he picked up another file. “Boyfriend issues?” he asked without looking away. My cheeks burned. "Yes... Uhm..." I sniffed, wiping my tears off as they fell freely now. "Yes." He studied me like he was analyzing numbers, not a person. “Caught him cheating?” I was tempted to scream and tell him, 'Yes, I caught him cheating with your fiancée!' but, just like Moon said, I could never. I owe her family that much. So, I swallowed and just gave a polite nod. He didn’t blink. “You’ll live. Pull yourself together and get back to work.” And that was it. No softness, no sympathy. Just dismissal. Still… he’d asked. Ocean Stark had actually spoken to me beyond orders. For a man who could end careers with a phone call, even that tiny fragment of attention felt dangerous. Was that concern or a warning? I couldn’t tell. My throat itched to keep the next words that threatened to come out of my mouth, but it failed, because I heard my own voice ask the most stupid question ever. "Do you think I am weak, Mr. Stark?" He froze mid-page. A faint crease appeared between his brows. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop with him, and my pulse was the only sound I could hear. “Do you?” he asked, still not looking up. “Do I what?” My voice wavered. “Think you’re weak.” He slowly peeled his gaze from the files, and his chilling eyes rested on me. The movement was so small, but it felt like the whole room leaned toward him. I almost slid into a panic attack. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe.” “What are you trying to prove, Miss Harry?” “I’m not sure,” I said. He studied me then like he was trying to decide if I was unstable or simply honest. “You’re crying over a man who isn’t worth the data it would take to delete his name from your phone,” he said. “That’s not weakness, that’s misallocation of focus.” I almost laughed. “So what would you recommend, Mr. Stark? Reallocate my focus?” “Yes.” His tone was flat and businesslike, as if we were still talking about quarterly losses. But something in his eyes shifted — interest, maybe curiosity. It made my stomach twist. I ran my tongue over my dry lips, "Mr. Stark...?" I called, but he only answered with his steady eyes on mine, “Do you…” My voice faltered, but I forced it out, “Do you really love my cousin?” I knew I was playing with fire. Such boldness? I'd never displayed it anywhere near my boss before. And I was terrified he was even entertaining me. “No.” Two letters. A brutally honest answer that shocked me. I blinked. “What?” My whisper cracked. “Why? But I thought…” His mouth curved in something close to contempt. He stood to his feet. "You want to know the truth?" He asked flatly, and I nodded, my gaze lifted up to meet his. "Because my heart only belongs to one woman. I've been searching for her for years now. And when I find her...?" He paused, and some muscle in his cheek twitched, like he was holding back more words. "What? You'll dump my cousin?" I found myself asking... Not because I care. But maybe I also wanted Moonie to suffer the way she'd made me suffer all these years. And I wanted her suffering to come naturally. He exhaled through his nose, "Your cousin is strictly business." With that, he made to walk away. The finality in his tone should have shut me up. Instead, something hot and reckless surged up my throat. I stood as he turned to go. “Wait.” He stopped. Slowly, he turned his head and gave me that look that meant, 'the audacity?' Too late to back down. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. "Mr. Stark... I need a favor from you." I stood in front of him now, feeling so small and breakable before him. “I want…” I swallowed hard, hating the tremor in my throat. “I want to do something that reminds me I’m not weak.” His brows narrowed like he could read through me. He didn’t answer. Just watched me. The grey in his eyes looked darker now, colder, like deep water that could drown a person without a ripple. "Take me tonight. I want to forget all about Jace. Please don't say no." Chapter 3 KISAREL. The silence stretched so long it felt like punishment. He didn’t blink. He wasn't even looking at me anymore. He kept looking over my head like looking at me up close would kill him. I know this was reckless. I mean... The last time I did something this reckless was when I took a bullet for a stranger without even thinking. “Careful,” he said finally, “You have no idea what you’re asking for.” I drew in a shaky breath, “I know exactly what I’m asking for,” I whispered. That was when he looked at me fully. For the first time ever, I really understood why everyone feared Ocean Stark. He didn’t even need to speak to feel like danger. All he had to do was listen. I'd never looked at him so up close before. And my heart refused to stop racing when his eyes pinned me to the spot. "I don't fuck my employees, Kiss." My knees almost buckled at the way he bit off the word Fuck. Heat crawled up my neck to my cheeks. And… had he just called me Kiss? Moisture stung the corner of my eyes. "No one would know... I swear... Just this once. Let's be like two strangers who just hooked up for the night," I swallowed, searching his eyes. This was a stupid move, but I couldn't go back now. His gaze flicked down, then back to my eyes. I could almost feel the war happening inside him. "You don't get it, Kisarel." He took a step forward, closing what little space there was between us. My breath hitched as I tried to look away, but his fingers quickly caught my chin and forced my gaze to remain on his. “I’m getting married to your cousin,” he said softly. “And I don’t do scandals. Go to bed, hug your pillow, and cry about your boyfriend, before you ruin both of us.” The closeness made me dizzy, like stepping too close to fire. The crown of my head barely touched his lower chin. His voice was firm, but his pulse? I could see it beating hard at the side of his neck. "No one will ever know," I said and dared to push further, "Unless you're scared you can't match up with the man I am trying to forget... Sir?" With those words, I saw his eyes turn a shade darker, and something dangerous swirled in their depths. Before I could form another word, Mr. Stark wrapped his fingers around my neck and slammed my back against the nearest wall. “Do you always play with fire this way?” His voice had changed. Whatever cold professionalism lived in it during office hours was gone. Now it was rougher, colder and more detached. “Only when I’ve already been burned,” I whispered. I don't know where that came from. Some part of me that had stopped calculating risk somewhere between Jace's bedroom floor and this hotel room. Some part of me that had decided that if tonight was going to hurt regardless, it may as well hurt for something I chose. He looked at me for a long moment. Something moved in his jaw. His thumb pressed lightly against my pulse point and I felt my own heartbeat betray me. "You know what you want. You don't know what I take." His eyes moved over my face with no urgency at all, which was somehow more frightening than anger. His voice dropped to a near growl, "You want to get fucked by me?" He said through clenched teeth, like a lion whose ego was just tested. "Do you know what it means to get fucked by me?" My hands flew to his wrists, struggling against his grip. Instead, his free hand moved to the wall beside my head, and he leaned in slowly until there was almost no space left between us. I could feel the heat coming off him, and my heart was doing something embarrassing and uncontrollable that I was certain he could feel in his palm. "That little cunt of yours will get bruised by me. I don't make love. I'll fuck you so hard you'll beg for me to stop." He pressed me harder into the wall, “When I fuck, I don’t stop because you cry. I don’t stop because you can’t take it. I stop when I’m done. I’ll bruise you. Break you open until you forget every man who ever touched you before me. You won’t walk right for days.” His breathing turned ragged. "I won’t just fuck you, Kisarel. I’ll get inside your head and twist until the thought of anyone else feels wrong. I’ll become the ache you can’t cure, the ghost you’ll beg to haunt you again.” He leaned closer, his breath hot against my mouth. "One night won't be enough. Not for me. I want you to know that before you make this decision, because I won't pretend otherwise in the morning." My breath caught. "So…” His teeth grazed my jaw as his fingers tightened on my throat. “You still want to fuck with me, Kiss?” God, his threats terrified me. But right now, the rational part of me was dead. All I wanted was to forget about Jace tonight. "I want to see you try, sir," I blurted out the dare, pushing him to his limits. For a second, he didn't move. Then his hand slid to the back of my neck, and he crushed his lips against mine, kissing me so hard I almost lost my breath. "You'll be sorry you made this decision." *** OCEANS. Fuck. I’d been doing everything to keep the little, hot nerd-looking girl out of my line of sight, and fate kept shoving her back under it. When the board thought she was due for promotion and deemed my office the right place to insert her, that was when I knew I was fucked. Since the moment I set eyes on this girl, my cock forgot what dignity was. Always jerking like a damn teenager every time she walked in. The smell of her hair brings back memories that had been tormenting me for the past six years. I was getting married to her cousin. And she was getting married to a man whose head I could put a bullet through, just for being the one who owned her. I fought that lust I felt toward her. I buried it. Smothered it. Because the last time I got involved with an employee, it nearly cost me my legacy. Since then, I’d drawn a hard line. No mixing business with anything that had a pulse and a paycheck I signed. But right now — seeing the same woman who’d pulled something wild and starving out of me — standing in front of me, desperate, trembling, asking for the one thing my body had always craved? That was a temptation straight from hell that even the finest of God's angels would fall for without looking back. I tried to turn her down. I fucking did. That should have been the end of it. I tried to turn away, because that's what a man with functioning self-control does. I had work on the table. I had a flight the next day. I had a rule I shouldn't ignore, and I had exactly enough scotch in my system to drown out that rule, which meant I needed distance more than I needed to look at her. But she pushed really hard. And my control — usually bulletproof — buckled. "You'll do every fucking thing I say without question. Understood?" I warned her, and she nodded hesitantly, "Use your words, Kiss." She swallowed, and my tongue darted out and licked the movement that formed in her throat. She shuddered, "Yes, sir." "Good girl." I pressed into her mouth again. Harder. She tasted like heat and salt and bad decisions. Her scent and softness tried to swallow me whole. Fuck. I was doing all I could not to break her. She seemed so fragile, the crown of her head barely scraping my jawline. I pulled her off the wall and broke the kiss before I lost the rest of my senses. She was panting. Her small, plump lips were red and swollen. Her eyes were blown wide behind those damn glasses. I took them off. " Don't ever wear that shit again." Up close, without the frames, she was lethal. Big blue, almond eyes. Innocence and naivety dancing in them. I took her lips again, letting my hand roam all over her body — flat over ribs, curve of waist, the line of her hip - and what I felt made me curse against her lips. Those loose skirts and gowns she wore to work were lies. There was nothing shy under there. Every inch of her was pure fucking heaven. A full, high ass in my palms, hips that filled my grip, a body cut to make a man forget his rules. Jesus. I almost lost it. Her fingers clutched my shirt, tugging desperately. And when she whimpered, I knew it was over. I pulled away again, forcing a breath past my teeth. My body screamed to stay pressed to hers, but I needed space. Needed to see exactly what I was about to burn my life down for. Her chest rose and fell in ragged little jerks. "Strip," I growled and stepped back to the couch, pouring myself a glass of whiskey as I sat and watched her fingers shake as she reached for the hem of that oversized shirt. God. Who the hell wore something like that to bed? A shapeless tent that only made me want to rip it off. The shirt hit the floor. The shorts followed. She stood before me, naked, with some white cotton pants that did it's best to cover every corner of her ass like it was a secret she was trying so hard to hide. Her bra didn't look like something I'd choose for a young girl, if asked. But the body in those underwears...? Any man alive would kill to have that body under him, screaming his name. I dragged a thumb across my lower lip, staring at her. My cock throbbed so hard it hurt. “Kneel.” My voice dropped into something darker than a command. She narrowed her brows, a thousand questions probably swirling in her head, but one look from me, and she dropped all that hesitation. And the moment her knees hit the floor, something in me went feral. That submission. Fuck. Her hands were at her sides. Head bowed, hair sliding forward like a curtain. Christ. Seeing her like that — trembling, skin goose-pimpled, chest rising and falling as she tried to breathe — made my restraint splinter. I set the whiskey down without looking away from her. My palms flattened on my knees as I leaned forward. "Now, crawl to me."

I checked the security camera footage and discovered every Tuesday afternoon, our neighbor, Kirston, dressed well, came over, and had intercourse with my husband. I started scrolling backward through the footage. Three days earlier. Tuesday. 1:47 PM. Jake put his hand on a beautiful woman's lower back and guided her through the door. I recognized her immediately. Kirsten Vance, she lived thirty feet from my front door. They...cheated... My throat tightened. Then I scrolled back to the week before. Same day of the week. Tuesday. 1:52 PM. Kirsten again. This time, Jake was shirtless. She put her hand flat on his bare chest. He looked down at her with hunger. He pulled her inside by the wrist. Jake snored through the bathroom wall. I sobbed on the cold floor, due to his affair. Two weeks before that. Tuesday. 2:01 PM. And there he was, on my porch, pecking the neighbor's wife with his hands on her hips and her arms around his neck. I scrolled through weeks. Through months. Every Tuesday, the same pattern. Kirsten arriving between 1:30 and 2:00 PM. Sixteen arrivals. I sat on the edge of the bathtub in the dark, tears flowed down. The grief lasted ninety seconds. Then it converted. The neighborhood block party was in twelve days. Kirsten was building a slideshow. And I had sixteen Tuesdays of footage. The game began... ———————— Reagan I knew something was wrong the way you always know — not all at once, but in the small things that don't add up until suddenly they're the only things that do. It was a Tuesday when I came home to a clean house. Not my kind of clean, where everything has a place and the counters smell like the lavender spray I keep next to the paper towels. This was panic clean. Lemon Pine-Sol, the bottle I kept under the sink that Jake had never once reached for in three years of marriage, suddenly half-empty and working overtime on every surface in the kitchen. The dishes were put away — actually put away, in the right cabinets, not just rinsed and abandoned in the drying rack. The couch pillows were fluffed and centered. The blanket I kept folded over the armrest was refolded. Jake didn't fold things. Jake didn't fluff things. Jake didn't know our throw pillows had a front and a back, and he certainly didn't know that the navy ones went on the outside and the cream ones went in the middle. But there they were, arranged like a magazine spread by a man who once asked me why we needed "so many little pillows that nobody sits on." He was on the couch when I walked in, showered and relaxed in a way that didn't match a man who'd supposedly been working all day. Pharma sales. Flexible schedule. The kind of job that sounded impressive at dinner parties and meant absolutely nothing in practice — he set his own hours, made his own calls, and as far as I could tell, spent most of his work-from-home days cycling between ESPN and DoorDash. "Hey, babe. Long shift?" I'd been on my feet for twelve hours. I'd started the day holding pressure on a nineteen-year-old's femoral artery while a trauma surgeon tried to save what was left of his leg after a motorcycle turned left in front of him doing sixty. The surgeon saved the leg. The kid coded an hour later in the ICU and we lost him anyway. I clocked out at seven with my knees aching and my scrub top stiff with someone else's blood. "Long shift," I said. "There's Thai in the fridge. I ordered around seven." He'd ordered Thai. For one. At seven o'clock, while I was changing out of bloody scrubs in the locker room and leaning my forehead against the cold metal of my locker trying to remember what it felt like to not be tired. He hadn't texted. Hadn't called. Hadn't asked if I wanted him to keep a plate warm or leave the porch light on. I ate cold pad Thai standing at the kitchen counter — the counter that smelled like Pine-Sol and wrongness — and I told myself I was imagining things. Told myself I was just tired. Told myself that a clean house was a nice thing, a thoughtful thing, the kind of thing I'd been asking Jake to do for three years. Maybe he'd finally listened. Maybe this was him trying. I went to bed and he was already asleep, turned away from me, breathing the slow, satisfied breath of a man with nothing on his conscience. I lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling and thought: since when does Jake try? The package is what cracked it open. Two days later I was expecting a delivery — a compression sleeve for the knee that had been grinding since a ten-hour shift the week before. The tracking said delivered. Left at front door, 2:14 PM. But when I got home the porch was bare, and when I asked Jake about it over dinner he barely looked up from his phone. "Nah, nothing came. Probably got stolen. Happens all the time on this street." It didn't happen all the time on this street. It had never happened on this street. We lived in Riverside Heights, the kind of neighborhood where people left their garage doors open and waved at each other from their driveways and posted in the group chat if they saw an unfamiliar car parked too long. Nobody was stealing packages. But Jake said it with the easy confidence of a man used to being believed, and I almost let it go. Almost. That night, after Jake fell asleep, I sat on the edge of the bathtub with my phone and opened the Ring app. The doorbell camera — the one Jake had insisted on installing when we moved in, back when he still did things like care about the house — recorded everything that happened on our front porch. Motion-activated, cloud-stored, timestamped. I scrubbed to 2:14 PM. There was the delivery driver. There was my package, set neatly on the welcome mat. There was my front porch, empty and ordinary in the afternoon light. Then 2:20 PM. The door opened. Jake stepped out in basketball shorts and bare feet, picked up the package, tucked it under his arm, and walked back inside. He'd taken my package. Told me it was stolen. Looked me in the eye over leftover chicken and lied about a compression sleeve, of all things, and I still didn't know why. Maybe he'd opened it by accident and thrown it away. Maybe he'd put it somewhere and forgotten. But the lie was there now, small and sharp as a splinter, and I couldn't stop pressing on it. I sat in the bathroom with the blue glow of my phone lighting up the tile and I did something I'd never done before. I started scrolling backward through the footage. Not looking for anything specific. Not expecting anything. Just looking. The way you touch a bruise to see how deep it goes. I wish I'd stopped. ..... The first clip confused me more than it scared me. Three days earlier. Tuesday. 1:47 PM. A woman walked up our front path in a sundress and wedge sandals, her hair blown out and shining in the afternoon light. She didn't ring the bell. Didn't knock. She took out her phone, typed something — a text — and three seconds later the front door opened from inside. Jake, smiling. Not the smile he gave me when I came home from a shift, the tired half-smile that said oh, you're here. A real smile. Wide and warm and directed at this woman like she was the thing he'd been waiting for all day. He put his hand on her lower back and guided her through the door and it closed behind them. I recognized her immediately. I would have recognized her from space. Kirsten Vance lived thirty feet from my front door. She was the woman who'd brought us banana bread the week we moved in, who organized the block parties and the holiday cookie exchanges, who ran the neighborhood group chat with cheerful efficiency and posted reminders about recycling day and whose trash cans were still at the curb. She taught yoga. She had an Instagram following — not huge, but dedicated — full of stories about alignment and showing up for yourself and choosing peace. She'd suggested book club. She'd invited me on neighborhood walks. She'd hugged me at the last cookout, both hands on my shoulders, big smile, and said we should do this more, just the two of us, I feel like I never see you. She'd been seeing my husband. While I was at work seeing the worst moments of strangers' lives. But I told myself it was nothing. I was sitting on the edge of my bathtub in a dark bathroom at eleven at night and I told myself that neighbors visit each other. People borrow things, drop things off, have conversations in kitchens. Kirsten was on the HOA social committee. Maybe she needed Jake's input on the block party layout. Maybe she was returning a casserole dish. There were a hundred innocent explanations. I could have closed the app and gone to bed and woken up tomorrow and never looked again. I scrolled back to the week before. Same day of the week. Tuesday. 1:52 PM. Kirsten again. Same approach — the text, the three-second wait, the door opening from inside. But this time Jake was shirtless. Not coming-from-the-gym shirtless. Fresh-from-the-shower shirtless, hair damp, towel still draped across his shoulders like he'd cleaned up for company. Like he'd prepared. She put her hand flat on his bare chest. Left it there. He looked down at her hand and then at her face, and the expression he gave her — I had been married to this man for three years and I had never once seen that expression directed at me. The hunger in it. The focus. Like she was the only thing in the frame worth seeing. Like everything outside of her had gone soft and blurry and she was the only part of his life in high definition. He pulled her inside by the wrist. The door closed. I could hear Jake snoring through the bathroom wall. Sleeping in my bed, in my house, ten feet away from me while I sat on cold porcelain and watched him pull another woman through my front door with the eagerness of a man who'd been counting the minutes until she arrived. My hands were shaking badly enough that I almost dropped the phone. I scrolled back again. Two weeks before that. Tuesday. 2:01 PM. This time the pecking happened on the porch. Not inside, not in the doorway — out in the open, in full daylight, on the front steps of the house I'd bought with my own money before I ever met Jake Holt. Three years of ER overtime, doubles on holidays, every extra shift the charge nurse would give me. I'd saved since I was twenty-four. I'd done the inspection and the closing and signed the papers myself. It was the first thing I'd ever owned that was entirely mine, and Jake had moved in after the wedding because my house was bigger than his apartment, not the other way around. And there he was, on my porch, pecking the neighbor's wife with his hands on her hips and her arms around his neck. Not a quick pecking. Not an accident. His mouth was open and his fingers were pressing into the fabric of her dress and she was rising up on her toes to reach him and it went on and on and on, eight seconds, ten, twelve, long enough for the camera's motion sensor to decide nothing new was happening and stop recording.

"“No more running, Sweets.” THEY FOUND ME. Kylian. Ozias. Chayton. Evander. Tae. The five demon riders I spent nine years trying to escape. Pinned to the mattress, I clench my thighs. Kylian shoves them apart. “We’ll take turns reminding you who you belong to.”" ***** Chapter 1: Haunting Memories Blythe's P.O.V. ******************************************************* ~ Flashback, age 13 ~ ******************************************************* "Come on, you promised you'd sit with me while Tae finished our project," Ozias whined as he tried to drag me to the computer lab. "I know, but Evander just asked me if I could meet him in the library really quickly," I said, trying not to laugh at the pout on Ozias' face. "I'll only be a minute." "Oh, please, Evander is going to keep you the whole time," Ozias sulked. "I won't let him," I replied, but he wasn't convinced. "What if I just go with you?" he suggested, shrugging his shoulders. "That would leave Tae all alone, and you know I hate that," I said. "You only hate it because he hacks into your socials every time you give us more attention than him," Ozias teased. "Yeah, and last time, he posted a ton of embarrassing pictures of me," I replied with a laugh. "The double chins... I was so hideous." Ozias laughed as he reached up to cup the side of my face, brushing his thumb across my chin. My laughter died down as he stared at me. Electricity was crackling between us, and I held my breath, unsure of what to do. I don't want to pull away, but I'm also a little bit scared. "Double chins... Hideous," Ozias scoffed softly. "Would it make you feel better to know that I jerked off to those pictures?" My face flamed as embarrassment coiled in my belly. "W-what?" I stuttered. Ozias, as usual, wasn't phased in the slightest. "It was real, it was raw, it was unfiltered you," he replied. "And nothing gets me going more than you, Sweets. At any angle." He's joking, right? He has to be. We've been friends our whole lives pretty much. Ever since the first day of fourth grade. Ozias had stood up for me when some boys were pushing me around on the playground. I had been at school for a few days and couldn't seem to make any friends. We moved in the middle of the school year and everyone pretty much had their friend groups already. I never seemed to fit in. That day was the first day anyone was nice to me. Ozias and his friends had been on an extended weekend vacation, so it was the first day I had met any of them. Even as kids, they were all very protective of me. That day, Ozias had threatened the boys who were pushing me, and then took me inside to meet his friends. The six of us have been practically inseparable ever since. That being said, this charming attitude that Ozias has isn't new. Ever since we were old enough to know what se.x is, he's made comments similar to this. However, this is the boldest thing he's ever said to me. I blame the fact that they were all raised in a motorcycle club. The Inferno's Demon Riders MC. The demons are great, don't get me wrong. I've spent so much time in the clubhouse that it's like a second home to me. I know that they party and party hard. I also know that they make sure I don't see everything that happens there either. "Did I break you?" Ozais teased me when I just stood there with my mouth open like a mor.on. "Break her? That's my job, isn't it?" I groaned at the sound of that voice. I didn't even get the chance to turn around, or plan an escape before Chayton slung his long arm around my shoulders. Ozias smiled at our friend before they fist bumped. "You'd never break Bly and you know it," Ozais told him, shooting me a wink. "You have no idea how much I want to," Chayton muttered. I looked up at him with a frown. Chayton is just a big bully. He's rude as hell, but he has a big heart under it all. He's just a big ol' sassy pants. But he's so dang tall and buff, you'd never guess he was kind. You just have to dig for it. "Anyway," Chayton continued without looking at me. "What are you guys doing?" "Well, Peaches here thinks she's going to meet Evander all alone in the library," Ozias told him. "I told her that I should come with." "Oh, definitely," Chayton said, spinning us around in the direction of the library. "Let's all go have a little bit of fun." Ozias was on my other side within seconds. He was so close that his fingers brushed against my hand. I looked at him and he winked at me. My face flushed with heat and I quickly looked away. "So," Ozias said. "Want to come to the clubhouse-" *********************************************** ~ Present, age 25 ~ *********************************************** Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm clock going off pulled me from my dream. Or my memory, I should say. I groaned as I reached out to slap it, making it stop. I rolled over in my bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about that damn dream. It's been years since I've even seen them. Almost ten whole years. Why do I keep dreaming about them? Probably because my time with those five were the only times in my life that I was happy, that I felt safe. Still, I wish it would stop. I hate having to be reminded of everything I lost every time I try to sleep. The good memories hurt just as much as the bad ones now. Although I would rather dream about them then- I shook my head, clearing the thoughts from my mind. I'm not going down that road first thing in the morning. Or ever, if I can help it. Slowly, I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. My apartment is tiny as hell, but it's just me. Well, me and Butter, my black cat that I saved about a year ago. Found him outside the diner I work at, licking a stick of butter that didn't quite make it into the dumpster. Hence, the name Butter. He was wounded, scared, and only a kitten when I found him. We've been together ever since, and he is my dearest and only friend. I talk to the girls at the diner, and we're friendly, except Abby, but... After everything I went through with my first set of friends, and everything after... I can't bring myself to trust anyone. Understandably so, but it's lonely as hell. Lonely or not, at least I'm free now. I sighed as I looked at myself in the mirror. I look like I barely slept. I was crying in my sleep again, so my eyes are a bit puffy. I can't believe I was crying over a stupid memory like that. I guess it wasn't that stupid. Not for the 13-year-old Blythe. The one that thought those five hung the stars in the sky. That day was the day that we all found out Ozias was moving. The party he was trying to invite me to at the clubhouse was his family's going-away party. Ozias didn't even know himself until that night. Honestly, Ozias is the only one of them that I don't actually harbor any hard feelings for. Other than his lack of communication when he moved, he never did anything to me. Ozias never bullied me, he was never mean to me, and he always knew how to make me smile. I wonder if the reason he never wrote me a letter, or texted, or even added me on any of my socials was because of the others. Or maybe he just outgrew me and forgot about me. I don't blame him. We were kids and he didn't know. Or maybe he did know and just didn't care. Ozias' family was deep in the MC. His father was part of the club and owned a gym in town. The whole reason they moved was because The Inferno's Demon Riders opened a new chapter. It was right in the heart of whatever state was the biggest MMA scene. Ozias' dad jumped at the opportunity. I remember how the six of us spent that party. We were all sad, devastated really. We tucked ourselves in Kylian's room for the entire night. We reminisced. We promised to never lose contact. We cried and laughed and... And it all turned out to be a lie anyway. It doesn't matter anymore. We were just kids, and I was stupid for thinking that we would remain the way we were forever. My mom picked me up from the clubhouse the next day. It was something she had been doing for the last few years. I never questioned it because I was just happy that she would let me stay the night. After she announced her engagement though, I realized that I had been overlooking a lot. Like the small, lingering glances they made. The way that Tusk would always make sure he was near us in some way. The way that he would already be talking to my mom when I came down the hall. How comfortable she seemed to be there. Tusk was a great guy. He was the club's enforcer, and he was always kind to me. That didn't change when he married my mom either. No, it was other people that changed. Like his son and his son's friends. I thought that living with one of my best friends was going to be the coolest. It was anything but. My whole life changed after that. That's what happens when people around you start scheming. I rolled my eyes at my reflection before jumping into the shower, the water as hot as it could go. I need to stop thinking about them. All of them. The MC, my mom, the guys. They're all in my past. I'm moving forward now. Moving past it all. Past the MC. Past my fake friends. Past my delusional mother. Past my sperm donor of a father. And most importantly... Past my abusive husband and the scars he left me. Chapter 2: Distracting Thoughts Blythe's P.O.V. ******************************************************* "Hey, you're here a bit early for your shift," Mary said as I walked around the counter to clock in. "Jason asked me to before I left last night," I told her. "But... you worked a double yesterday... and closed..." Mary said, putting the pieces together. And here it comes. "Bly, you worked until past 1 in the morning, and you're back already?" The way she said it was accusing, like I was the one that asked for this shift. Great, so she knows that it took me forever to close last night because I had to do everything alone. Jason was supposed to help, but spent the whole night shooting the sh.it with the cook who was also supposed to be helping. I'm not even sure how long they ended up staying. Of course, Mary knows all of this already. "I was asked to come in early today. I said yes, Mary," I replied. "It's no big deal." "No big deal?" She asked incredulously. "Bly, it's only seven in the morning right now. You have to close again tonight-" "Mary, please," I cut her off as I turned to face her. "I know you're worried, but I'm fine, okay? I got bills to pay. That's all." Which was a total lie. I need this job. Not because it pays well, or because the diner is just doing so well that I make incredible tips. Because those would both be lies. It's because Jason pays me under the table and doesn't ask questions. Plus, I need a job that I can make cash at every day. Just in case I need to run again. "You're going to burn out though, and then what?" Mary muttered under her breath. I let it go, mostly because we had tables to look after. I know that even if Mary knew that she'd be short-staffed today, she would have told me to stay home and sleep. I doubt that Mary could handle waiting tables, bussing tables, and taking food and drinks out all by herself though. It's hard enough with just the two of us. Thankfully, the morning kept me busy enough that I remained wide awake. I was used to not sleeping much anyway. It also made time fly by and, before we knew it, we were in our less busy time of day. I was busy preparing silverware and marrying the ketchups when Mary stood next to me, leaning on the counter. "I cannot believe that it's already almost eight o'clock," she said. I whipped my head at the clock hanging on the way and then looked at Mary. "You were out at four," I said, frowning. "Where is Abby? She was supposed to take over for you." Mary shrugged as she started helping me. "Guess she called in to say she was going to be late or something," she replied. "Jason asked me to stay until she got here. He said he had to run to go get her because of car trouble." I rolled my eyes. Right. Car trouble. Couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that she and Jason are fu.cking on the side. You see, Jason is actually a married man. Not happily, which is understandable because his wife is a mega-cu.nt, but still. Jason's wife, Lora, will come in here at least once a week. She always has something rude to say, she degrades the place and all of us workers, and then she and Jason spend at least two hours fighting in his office. I try to stay out of it, but I often wonder why they're even together still. Regardless of their reasons or anything else, Jason cheats a lot. Abby is not the only one, but she is the only one who works here. And not for lack of trying either. I guess Mary and I just have standards. All the kitchen cooks are men, and I guess Jason doesn't swing that way. However, this means that Abby gets everything she wants and Mary and I have to suffer for it. We're already short-staffed because Jason keeps scaring off the waitresses. Apparently, Mary and I were just built to handle a lot. Still, I have no idea how the man hasn't been sued for se.xual harassment. If only I wasn't so afraid to be found. "Do you think that Abby's boyfriend knows that she screws her boss?" Mary asked me, genuinely curious. I snorted. I love Mary. If I were a more trusting person, I think we could be really good friends. She's funny and bubbly and tends to be a lot of fun when we work together. She's tried to get me to hang out several times, but... I just can't. "I didn't know Abby had a boyfriend," I replied. "I thought she had multiple, and they all knew about each other." Mary let out a burst of laughter. Luckily, we only had one customer at the moment, who happened to be Silent Jay. He's an elderly, grumpy man who glares at us while he takes two hours to drink his cup of coffee and eats his dinner, and then he leaves. And with barely a tip, I might add. "Gosh, you're too much," Mary teased me, gently pushing my arm as she snorted. I only smiled and kept doing my job. I'm glad I made Mary laugh, but I was actually being serious. I've seen a few different guys come in and claim to be her boyfriend. Maybe because I work more shifts with Abby than Mary does. "Anyway, her boyfriend that I know about is a guy from the motorcycle gang in the next town over," Mary continued. I froze. There's a motorcycle club near here? I've never seen any club members around before. Though, I just work and go to the grocery store, so maybe I just never saw them? The fact that I'm so close to some random MC scares me a little. Just a little though. Despite how shi.tty my supposed friends ended up being, the club was always a safe place for me. Until it wasn't, but that was my sh.itty friends and my even shi.ttier stepsister, Everly. I never blamed the club though. The older guys were like father figures to me. After Tusk became my stepdad, they were like uncles. They were never mean or rude to me and always treated me like family. That was probably just because of my mom though. Nobody actually wanted me around. I figured that out the hard way. Anyway, being close to an MC shouldn't be a big deal. They obviously never come in here, and why would they? As long as they aren't affiliated with The Inferno's Demon Riders, then all should be fine. Even if they were, the only worry I'd really have is word getting back to my father and husband about my whereabouts. Just like last time. Whatever, I doubt that anyone would even recognize me. Right? I mean, I haven't seen the majority of them in nine years. The last time I was there, I only saw Evander. That was still eight years ago. "The guy came in here the other night, and he was fine as hell girl," Mary continued. I tried to keep up with all her gushing about how such a hot guy could be with an STD-riddled ska.nk like Abby. It was difficult though. My mind kept wandering towards the past, reminding me of the good ol' days. Or were they good? I thought so at the time. Hell, those memories used to be the safe place I'd escape to when things got bad at Silent Divine. Then I came to learn the truth though. The cold, hard, ugly truth. None of them wanted me. Not my mom, not Kylian, not Tae, not Evander, definitely not Chayton. I wonder if Ozias ever even truly liked me. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if they were all told to befriend me and be nice to me. At least at some point they were told that. Probably when my mom started seeing Tusk behind our backs. Tusk wouldn't want to upset his ol' lady. Maybe I was always just a nuisance to everyone. "I told you to stay away from me for a while." "God, you're always in the fu.cking way, Shorty." "What are you doing here, Spark? We told you to stay out of the clubhouse." "Maybe you should take the hint, Dimples. No one wants you here." "Bly, are you listening to me?" Mary asked, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. I blinked away the wetness filling my eyes and plastered a smile on my face. "Sorry, zoned out a bit," I mumbled. "Understandable," she replied. "You're probably dog-tired." Of life, yes. "Anyway, I was saying that we should go out tomorrow night after work," Mary said. "We close together again. Let's go get a drink after." "I don't know, Mary," I mumbled. "Oh, come on! Please?" She asked, pouting at me. "Just a couple of drinks?" "I'll think about it," I replied. Mary squealed like I had told her yes instead of maybe. Perhaps she took it as a yes, since I always say no, no matter what. I could probably go out for one night. I can handle that. Everything will be fine. No one knows me here. What's the worst that could happen? Chapter 3: Work Drama Blythe's P.O.V. ******************************************************* "It's Friday night, are they seriously going to stay locked in the office all night instead of helping?" Mary asked angrily. Steven, the only cook on for tonight, and I shared a look through the small widow we set food down to stay heated. "You know he love gettin' his di.ck wet, girl, let a playa play," he told Mary. I shook my head at him because I knew what was coming next. "Let a playa play?" Mary asked in a cold tone with her eyes narrowed, plates stacked in her arms. "That playa can play when his business isn't crumbling because he has no workers!" With that, Mary stormed off, flipping her hair as she did so. "Why'd you have to rile her up?" I asked as I started grabbing plates for one of my tables. "She's already angry as it is." Steven laughed. "Come on, that girl is too fun to not rile up," he said before going back to fulfilling the orders. Tonight is one of the busiest Fridays we've had in a while. The diner always gets busy in spurts. Busy enough to keep us employed and the place open, but tonight is different. The place is packed. I wonder if there's some kind of event happening in town tonight that drew in a crowd, but I don't know what that could possibly be. I mean, this is Gering, Nebraska. Nothing ever happens here. That was why I settled in this place. I spent the first two and a half years of my freedom bouncing around from town to town. I was too afraid to stay in one place for more than three months. The longer I did that though, the harder it got. Eventually, three months turned into four, then five, then six. When I came across this little town, I found myself liking it more and more. So, I decided to stay. They'll never find me here. Besides, I'm ready to run at a moment's notice. I have everything covered. ****************************************** The night was passing by in a blur. The diner stayed packed the entire time. Abby was in and out of Jason's office. I'm starting to wonder if the man has a se.x addiction. It would explain a lot. However, I'm growing more and more frustrated. I've had to stop Mary from interrupting them several times. If she does, she might get fired, and I don't know if this job is worth it without her. Still, it's getting old. Does Jason not care about his business at least? I was behind the counter wrapping up utensils and muttering under my breath about how much bullsh.it this was. The diner had cleared out some, but not enough for us to have a break. It's well after 7 o'clock now too. The diner closes at 11 p.m. Only four more hours to go. "Excuse me." I looked up at the polite, deep voice that was trying to get my connection. The first thing I noticed was his megawatt smile and then his bright blue eyes. The guy looked to be around my age and was leaning on the counter. His golden blonde hair was hanging down to his shoulders in a se.xy rugged kind of way. He was extremely attractive, and for a moment, I forgot how my mouth worked. "Uh..." I mumbled lamely. The guy smirked at me. "Sorry to bother you while you're so busy," he said politely. "Came in here and sat in my girl's section, but I ain't seen her. She's here, right? I didn't get her schedule wrong? Her name is Abby." My eyebrows shot up at that. No wonder why Mary was so shocked. Abby isn't an ugly girl by any means, but this man is a god. What the hell is he doing with someone like Abby? As if my brain was working in slow motion, another thought dawned on me. Mary also said he was part of an MC. For the first time, I noticed the cut he was wearing. The Devils MC with their logo on it. Right next to that is a patch that says: Treasurer. "I'm not here to cause trouble," he said quickly, noticing me staring at his cut. I shrugged and looked back down at what I was doing. "Didn't think you were," I replied. "Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. I was too afraid to look at his face in fear that he might see something in me. Like that, I was familiar with his world. I don't remember anyone ever saying anything about The Devils, but I don't want to get involved with bikers. Or anyone for that matter. "So... my girl?" he asked after a silent moment. Before I could reply, Mary came stomping up next to me. "Are you trying to pay? Most customers let us do the walking," she joked. "Ah, no, haven't ordered yet actually," he replied. "Right, because you're sitting in Abby's section," she grumbled under her breath, but it was apparently loud enough for him to hear. "So she is here!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands out before resting them on the counter. "Where is she? She on break or something?" Mary stared at him like he was some kind of puzzle she was trying to solve. I know that she recognizes him as Abby's boyfriend. I tried to mind my own business, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't love what was happening. Mary is about to blow a gasket, and as much as I hate to see her so worked up, I love it at the same time. "Oh, you want me to take you to her?" Mary asked sweetly. Wait, what? "Mary," I scolded her quietly. Mary met my eyes, but hers were full of defiance. She wasn't going to listen to me. Bad idea or not, when Mary was fed up with something, she was fed up. And tonight, I kind of agreed with her. "He deserves to know anyway," she whispered to me. I looked back at the guy who was still watching us. He clearly heard everything, but that smile was still on his face. He seems so upbeat and... nice. "Why are you even with her?" I blurted before I could stop myself. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his eyes hardened. "What's that supposed to mean? 'Cause she's a waitress, and I'm a biker? You think she works too hard for me, or that I'll bring her down or something?" he spat. "Don't be jealous, sweetheart. It's not a good look." Now it was my turn to be surprised. "Jealous!?" Mary practically screamed, more offended than I was. Before he could reply, I busted out in laughter. It started as a sputtering of noises until I was bent over holding my belly. I couldn't help it, and it had been so long since I laughed like that. "It wasn't that fu.cking funny," the guy muttered. "Actually, it was," Mary replied. "Because jealous is the last thing we are of Abby." Just then, the door to Jason's office opened. We heard Abby giggling, followed by hushed tones. Speak of the devil and she shall appear. From this spot, the biker guy has a clear view of whatever is happening. My back is to them, but based off of past experiences, they're probably all over each other still. The way the biker just tensed tells me that's most likely what's happening. His jaw is ticking, and he looks moments away from storming back there. "I can give you his home address if you want," Mary said excitedly. "He has a wife." "Nah, fu.ck that sh.it. That bit.ch ain't worth it," he grumbled. "Okay, but can you make a scene or something?" Mary whined. "This is the highlight of our night." The guy looked at Mary like she was insane as she gave him her best puppy-dog-eyes. He looked between the two of us like we were crazy, but didn't comment if that's what he thought. "Sorry that I made assumptions," he said. "Shouldn't have done that." "It's fine, I get it," I replied, waving him off. "So, anyway," Mary said, drawing the attention back to herself. "For starters, I feel obligated to let you know that you are one fine specimen of a man, and you can do way better than a ska.nk like Abby." The biker ran his hand threw his hair, looking past us. "I liked that she was going to school and working her a.ss off," he mumbled. "Thought she was real, ya know? I mean, how many chicks do you know that are fun to be around and smart? She's going to school to be a children's therapist. She takes care of her grandmother, who raised her. I thought she was sweet and kind." Mary and I blinked at him. He furrowed his brow, clearly confused by our reaction, or lack there of. Well, it was lacking until Mary spun around with more fury in her eyes than I'd ever seen before. "You psychotic bit.ch!" Mary screamed, causing the entire place to go silent. I tried my best not to laugh as I watched Mary storm up to Abby, who finally noticed that her se.xy biker boyfriend was watching. "You're going around pretending to be to snatch up hot biker guys!" Mary continued to scream. "You've crossed the line! I don't care what lies you make up to your freaking harem of men, but leave me out of it! And how is that even fair!? You literally stole my life and landed the hottest guy I have ever seen, and I can't even get a text back! I can't take it anymore!" "Her life?" The biker asked me, leaning on the counter as his eyes roamed over Mary. I smiled because I knew what that look meant. "Yeah," I replied. "Mary is the one going to school and working and taking care of her grandmother. I don't know Abby's situation, but I can tell you that she doesn't work very hard or very often." "But Mary...?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Well," I said with a smile. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" "You think she really thinks I'm the hottest guy she's ever seen?" he asked. I busted out a laugh. "Better schedule that STD screening," I told him. "Fu.ck, I'll get one tomorrow." Chapter 4: Seeing Old Frenemies Blythe's P.O.V. ******************************************************* "I can't believe all of that just happened," Mary said as we walked out of the back door of the diner. She still has that dazed look on her face. I don't blame her. I think we both thought she was about to be fired. I was already forming a speech about how I would quit if Jason really fired Mary. I knew he wouldn't take Abby over the two of us. He can always hire another bimbo willing to spread her legs for him. Jason was going to argue with Mary for a hot minute, until he saw the intimidating biker watching the scene. Abby tried to play the victim, but Biker Guy wasn't having it. He made it very clear that the diner would be on The Devils MC's sh.it list if he fired Mary or kept Abby working there. Abby threw a huge fit when Jason told her to leave. It was actually hilarious. Until Biker Guy had to take Abby outside himself so she'd chill out. Mary wasn't too thrilled about that, but she didn't say anything. Thankfully, the biker came right back in after sending Abby on her way. He said he was staying with his small group of friends and asked Mary to be their server. After they left, she came rushing up to me to tell me that he had asked for her number and apparently wanted to take her on a date. "Do you really think he's going to go get checked tomorrow?" She asked as we walked down the street. It's such a nice fall night out. Not too hot or cold. The sky is clear, and the stars are out. It reminded me of the days that I used to lay on the roof of my home and pick out the constellations with Kylian. He knew every constellation. It was impressive for an 11-year-old. "I hope so," I replied. "Really?" She asked nervously. "You don't think this is... Well, silly?" "Silly?" I asked, scrunching my face up. "Well, I mean, he just caught his girlfriend cheating," she said. "The girl that we hate and know spreads her legs for everyone. Is it crazy that I'd be willing to date him after all that?" I shrugged as we kept walking. "Dunno," I replied honestly. "I don't think it's fair to call it crazy. If it feels right, then go for it. It was a crazy situation, but... clearly the person he thought Abby was... was you." "I mean... it's kind of nerve-racking," she admitted. "Take things slow then," I offered. "Being involved with someone in an MC can get kind of wild too, so you should think about that. About if you can handle it and want in that life. Some of these MCs are nuts. They don't treat women well. Your guy seemed different, but just be careful." Mary was silent for a moment. "You say that like you know from experience," she commented. I only shrugged. "That what you're running from?" she asked. I stopped dead in my tracks. Mary took a couple of steps before stopping and turning to face me. She had her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she watched me with a small smile. "You don't have to tell me anything," she said softly. "I..." I trailed off, unsure of what else to say. "Hey, it's okay. I shouldn't have pried." Mary said, waving me off before coming over to loop her arm through mine. "Let's go get those drinks!" Mary chatted my ear off the whole way to the bar. It was almost a 20-minute walk for us after just working the busy shift of our lives. I was thankful that Mary kept the conversation going though. I was too drained to. By the time we reached the bar, it was pretty packed. There was still room around the bar to sit though. Mary and I took two seats and shrugged our jackets off. I glanced around, taking in the scene. It's a hole-in-the-wall kind of place. My favorite. It reminds me a little of the demon's clubhouse. "So, I can't believe I talked you into coming out," Mary said. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a loner," I replied with a half smile. The bartender slid us our drinks. After a little while, I started to loosen up. Maybe it was the couple of drinks, or maybe I was just letting go. I leaned back in my chair and pulled the hair tie from my hair. My long, thick, black waves cascaded around me, falling down past my waist. Mary gasped as her eyes went wide. "Holy sh.it, I didn't know you had all that hair!" She exclaimed. I shrugged, but Mary wanted to go on and on about it. Honestly, I hated it. That was why I always wore it in a messy bun on the top of my head. I thought about cutting it so many times over the years, but there were two voices arguing in my head about it, stopping me from ever making a decision. "I love your hair. Never cut it. It's so beautiful and long. Promise me you'll never change it." "You'd look better if you cut your hair to your shoulders. You know that's the trend these days. It'll be easier to handle too. I think you'd look hot. Think about it." Mary's loud gasp pulled me from my thoughts. I looked at her to see she was looking down at her phone. She looked up at me with a face-splitting grin. "Look! He already texted me!" She squealed before shoving her phone in my face. "Good for you," I replied. "I hope he turns out to be everything you want." And I truly meant that. ******************************************* "Blythe, I need you to do this!" "Blythe, take out the trash!" "Blythe, we need more coffee made!" "Blythe, I need you to help cook in between tables!" "Blythe, table three needs more coffee!" "Blythe, I need-" "Jason!" I snapped before biting my tongue and trying again. "Jason, I am only one person. I can't do everything." Jason's eyes narrowed at me. "No, but you can bust your a.ss and try," he said. "Considering it was your fault that I had to fire Abby." "My fault?!" I asked incredulously. "Yours and Mary's," he replied, nodding. The audacity! "Maybe if you stopped fu.cking your employees, or trying to, you'd be able to hold onto more of them, and we wouldn't have this problem in the first place!" I hissed at him. "Firing Abby was your own fault. You shouldn't sh.it where you eat to start off with, and blaming two women because you were too afraid to stand up to the big, bad biker makes you look even more like a pansy. Regardless, that girl never worked anyway. Firing her was a blessing in disguise, and unless you want to be running this show all on your own, I suggest you cut me some fu.cking slack. And if you're still hellbent on blaming someone, I just cleaned the mirror in the men's bathroom." With that, I picked up the coffee pot and made my rounds. I've never talked back like that to Jason in the almost two years that I've worked here, but damn. I had a headache from drinking last night. I barely got any sleep, and Jason is driving me up a wall! I deserve to snap every now and then. Thankfully, the morning flew by after that. The diner calmed down enough that being on my own wasn't bad. Just before our lunch rush, Mary came in for her shift. I was making more coffee and getting set up when she came to join me. We heard the bell ding, signaling that someone had just walked in. "Oof, they sat at your table, but Shadow is with them," Mary mumbled. "What's with all the bikers lately? Is there a convention?" I smiled at her joke. It's probably more of her boyfriend's friends. I saw the look in his eyes last night. Mary is officially his, and bikers take that sh.it seriously. "I'll take them some coffee," I said as I picked up the half-full pot. I spun around and walked around the counter. I hadn't made it that far when I had finally looked up. I froze mid-step. I recognize a couple of those faces. I recognize those cuts. I recognize that logo; the black demon with blood-red wings surrounded by flames, riding a motorcycle. My heart started beating wildly in my chest. I needed to calm down, and think this through. Okay, I recognize them, but they're nobody I was close to. Just older kids who I had seen in passing. Ones that knew my friends, but didn't really know me. It'll be fine. I'll just have Mary take their table. They won't even notice me. She'll be happy about it. I spun around on my heels just as the bell on the door dinged again. Either I have unfortunate timing, or the universe hates me, because what I came face-to-face with had me trembling with nerves. The urge to run was nearly unbearable, but my feet felt nailed to the floor. We were staring at each other. He sees me. His green eyes are on me. My god, he looks the same, but different. More muscles, stronger jaw, crooked nose. His dark brown hair is still short and styled like he ran his hands through it and called it good. He looks like the last time I saw him, but aged. Aged in the best way. Kylian Clyde MacQuoid. I held my breath. My knuckles went white with how hard I was gripping the coffee pot. I had no idea what to do. It's been so long since I've seen them. Is he here because he was looking for me? Is he going to take me back? Are they working with my father and husband? Just when I thought I was going to pass out... Kylian walked right past me. Like he didn't recognize me. Like he didn't know who I was at all. And that hurt worse than I expected it to. Chapter 5: Night Talks Blythe's P.O.V. ******************************************************* ~ Flashback, age 13 ~ ******************************************************* "My mom is going to kill you if she finds out you were sneaking over here in the middle of the night," I said when I heard other footsteps on the roof. A moment later, Kylian was sitting next to me. I had my knees pulled up to my chest with my arms wrapped around them. My chin sat on my knees as silent tears fell from my eyes. I haven't been able to stop crying since this morning. "She won't find out," was all Kylian said. Silence fell over us as I looked out at the other houses. Mom and I don't live in a big house. It's just a simple one-story, two-bedroom home. There's a lattice attached to the house right outside my bedroom window, and that's strong enough to let us climb up to the roof. For now at least. I come out here a lot to think. Kylian almost always seems to find me when I do too. I have no idea how. I mean, he lives on the club's property near the clubhouse. It's not far from here, maybe a 20-minute walk, but he can't see my house from his. I never asked him how he always knew where I was either. I didn't want to risk him not showing up anymore. I hate being alone. Even if it's at night while I'm supposed to be sleeping. I can never sleep much anyway. I've always been like that. I've never understood how people needed a moment to breathe, or wanted five minutes of space, or anything like that. Ever since meeting these five guys, I've hated every second I've spent alone. I sniffled and wiped my nose on the back of my hand. "He promised he'd write to you and text you all the time when we get you a phone." Kylian said softly as he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "He'll come back to visit too. They're still part of the club. This isn't forever." Hearing Kylian's slight Scottish accent sent shivers through me, but I don't think he noticed. Thank god, because I really can't handle him teasing me about it right now. Not that Kylian is ever mean, but... he flusters me and I just... Not right now. "It feels like it," I muttered, sniffling again. "Ozias won't be around all the time anymore... I... I can't picture life without him. No more jokes, or watching him train at the gym, or that infectious smile..." Kylian wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him. My body went limp, my legs falling as he pushed my head to his chest. I gripped his shirt, clinging to him as more tears poured out of me. "You're going to make me jealous if you keep crying over him like this," Kylian tried to tease me. Any other time, I'd laugh. Kylian wasn't the joking type. In fact, he rarely ever spoke. He was one of those people who could communicate everything with just a look. I was the only person he ever joked with or said more than five words at a time to. Well, and our other friends I suppose. However, I just couldn't this time. I know Ozias promised to never lose contact with me, but I feel like this was the end, like this was the last time I'd ever get to see him. I didn't have a phone because we couldn't afford it. We had a computer, and I was allowed to have soicals, but my time was limited. Ozias promised to write to me until Kylian could get me a phone though. He said he'd call the guys when I was with them so we could still talk. He promised to come back for summers and holidays. For some reason, I don't believe it. "Ozias wouldn't want you to be upset like this, Spark," Kylian said, practically begging me to stop crying. I released a long breath and tried to get myself under control. I focused on Kylian's hand running up and down my back. Eventually, my sobbing ceased, but tears were still falling from my eyes. Kylian and I just stayed like that. With my head tucked into his chest and his arms around me. "You still have us, Spark," he said softly, and I relished that cute nickname he has for me. "You aren't alone." "I know," I replied, my voice hoarse from all my crying. "But it still makes me feel... devastated." "What can I do to make this better?" he asked. I wanted to tell him to bring Ozias back, but I knew that he couldn't. I knew it was tearing him up inside to see me this upset too. That is why I saved most of my blubbering for now. I cried, but I didn't want to make Ozias feel worse than he already did, and I didn't want the rest of our friends to worry about me. "Tell me something nice," I said. "Tell me about your future plans with the club. You still want to take over for your dad as prez?" I pulled away just enough to turn my body. I rested my head on Kylian's shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around me. Then he leaned back, taking me with him until we were snuggled up together, staring at the stars in the clear sky. "Well, since we're club kids, we get to start prospecting at 16," he started. "We can either become members at 18 or they might make us wait until 20 like most of the guys." I do know that most guys prospect for two years. Some patch in before that, if they show enough loyalty during a run or something. Whatever that means. Others sometimes prospect for longer, but never more than four years. I remember Tusk telling me all about that when he took me, Evander, and Everly out for ice cream a couple of months ago. I was very curious about club life. "I think that my dad's gonna send us on a run when we're all 18 though. I'll be 19 by then and so will Ozias," Kylian continued. "I think Ozias will come back and be part of the club here though. The five of us can go on a run together." "You five do make a really good team," I told him, turning my head to give him a smile. Kylian turned his head to look at me. Our faces were only inches apart. He reached a hand up to cup my cheek, brushing his thumb across my skin. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips and made mine spread. Kylian rarely smiles or shows emotion. I love it when he does. "I think we're all mostly excited about getting our road names," he said softly. I beamed at him, making him chuckle. "Go on, say it," he added. "I cannot wait to hear what kind of cool names you guys get! I bet they're going to be the coolest!" I blabbered. "I bet they'll call Chayton Psycho or something like that. I already hear everyone around the club call him that when he gets into trouble. I bet Ozias will be Dragon. I have no idea about the rest of you, but I can't wait!" I squealed at the end, a little more excited than I should be. Kylian laughed, dropping his hand from my cheek. The smile on his face is bigger now, and I'm reminded of how much I love spending time alone with him. "You named Ozias Dragon, you do know that, right?" he teased me. "No, I named him the Silver Dragon," I corrected him. "It's his stage name." "Stage name," Kylian grumbled. "What if he goes pro and actually goes by that name?" I shrugged as I looked back up at the stars. "If that's what he wants, then..." I trailed off as I blew out a breath. "I just want him to be happy. All of you, actually." "You make us happy," he replied. I turned to give him a smile. "Do you promise to be my best friend forever?" I asked. Kylian's face suddenly fell, and his eyes went hard. "No," he replied before looking away from me. My chest ached and I was confused. "Oh..." was all I could manage as I looked down. Kylian put his finger under my chin and raised my eyes to meet his. "One day, we are going to be more than that," he told me. More? How? In what way? What does that even mean? I didn't dare ask though. I was way too afraid of the answer. Too afraid to get my hopes up. Looking back now, I'm glad I never did. ****************************************************** ~ Present, age 25 ~ ****************************************************** "Hey, are you alright?" Mary asked when she followed me to the back, near Jason's office. "I saw you and that hot-as-hell biker guy staring at each other. I thought you two were going to go at it in the middle of the diner." I could barely hear her words, my heart was thumping in my chest. Are the others here? What are they doing here? They live in California. Are they here for me? No, that can't be. Kylian didn't even recognize me. This is fine. It's all going to be fine. He didn't recognize me. It's been years. He probably forgot all about me. "Bly... are you alright? You're crying," Mary said, swiping a tear that escaped down my cheek. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I'll finish my shift as long as he continues not to recognize me. Then I'll go back to my apartment, get Butter ready, and we'll dip. All my stuff is mostly packed already. This will be the first time I'll travel with a pet, but we can do it. I hope. "Mary, can you please take that table for me?" I asked. "Sure sweetie," she replied, clearly concerned. I took another deep breath before going back to work. I just have to make it through a couple more hours. Then I'm gone, leaving behind another town. I will not let my freedom be taken away again. Chapter 6: A Blast from the Past Kylian/Karma's P.O.V. ******************************************************* What the fu.ck? What the actual fu.ck?? Did that really just happen? Talk about your ghosts from the past. What the hell is she doing here? In some bumfu.ck town in the middle of Nebraska. Is this where she's been? Is this why C.G. couldn't find her? Well, I mean, he found her at one point. 'Course that was years ago. The only reason he found anything of use was because her fu.cking engagement had been in a local newspaper. That was back in Cali though, only a few hours away from our hometown. When her father showed up about four or so years ago wanting to talk to Tusk and Angela about where his daughter was, I assumed that Blythe and her new husband had run away together or something. After we saw that Blythe was engaged, all of us had different reactions. Me, personally, I didn't want to know jack sh.it about her after that. She broke her promise to us. A promise that we were all holding onto. And then nothing. She didn't care about us anymore. She was getting fu.cking married. But when Daniel had the gall to show up at the front gates of our clubhouse, I knew something was up. I had C.G. look into Blythe again, and apparently, the guy never stopped. He couldn't find anything. Not a car in her name, a loan, an apartment, nothing. Even the husband was like a ghost. We knew his name, but that was it. We'd been low-key searching for years, and eventually found a place associated with her husband. Of course, when Psycho and I went to scope out the place, Blythe wasn't there. It was a huge fu.cking house in the rich part of town. All high-end sh.it. Nothing like what the Blythe I remember would have liked. There was a party going on when we showed up. It was more like a damn orgy than a party though. We searched for hours and never found Blythe in the house. Psycho got distracted by some girls that were there, and I watched and observed everything. Including her so-called husband enjoying his little party. Did he even care where Bly was? Did she run away because he was cheating? Why didn't she run back to us? Does she hate us that much? I shouldn't even be surprised honestly. We all knew that Blythe was a li.ar before her dad took her. I thought she'd change once she grew up. I thought she'd put the pettiness behind her. I mean, she was only acting out because Havoc started treating her differently when their parents married. That, and Everly wouldn't keep her hands off me. I knew Bly was jealous back then, but didn't want to admit it to herself or any of us. I thought I'd wait it out, but the things she was doing to get our attention were getting out of control. We all had to be more stern with her. The last thing we wanted was for any of the club princesses to grow up spoiled. There were only four of them, and we had seen how some club princesses in other clubs grew up to be. We didn't want that for Blythe. My little sister was hardly around, choosing to go to school in Scottland, where some of our family lived. She would come home for holidays and summers. She and Bly weren't close, but that was our fault for stealing all of Bly's attention. The other two club princesses, Everly and Alex, were definitely too spoiled. We didn't see it back then, but I'm starting to see it now. They aren't that bad, but they're pushy. They want cuts and they want them from us. Well, Everly wants me at least. I think Alex is just trying to get knocked up by whoever she can at this point. After the sh.it she pulled with C.G. though, no one in the club will touch her. We never wanted Bly to grow up to be like that. We wanted her to stay just as she was. A sweet girl with a fiery side. We even talked about making her an ol' lady, but... Well, we could never decide who's ol' lady she'd be. So, I spent two years after Blythe left thinking about what we would do when she came back. The plan I came up with was... intriguing. When I brought it to the guys, there was a mix of reactions. Psycho was pi.ssed that I had even thought he'd want Blythe in the first place. The guy still won't admit that he has the hots for her. I mean, who wouldn't? With those insanely long and thick black waves, those deep cobalt eyes, the splattering of freckles across that little nose, those juicy and naturally red lips, and those incredible dimples that show when her lips move in the slightest. He wanted her. We all did. Havoc was also pi.ssed. He said he didn't want to be a part of my plan and never would. Now that they were "siblings", he had to give up on whatever feelings he had for Bly. Which he said was easier after the way Bly treated his twin sister. I don't see why being step-siblings mattered. We met Bly before Tusk met Angela, but there was no telling Havoc that. C.G. and Dragon had similar reactions. They were happy as hell and eager to start. 'Course, Dragon would be a bit harder to swing since he was already on his way to being a pro MMA fighter at 17 years old. I knew that those two could help me get the other two on track though. Hell, Psycho would be easy to trap. But then Blythe never came back. Instead, she stayed with her father and found herself a husband. It's not like we were exactly waiting for her. Well, C.G. really was, but the rest of us were still getting our di.cks wet. We never dated though, never fell in love or any of that bullsh.it. That was all supposed to be for her, but she apparently didn't want it. So, why is she here? If her husband was cheating on her, and she left him, why come here instead of home? Doesn't she know how much her mom misses her? Of course, she doesn't, they don't talk. "You keep staring at Bly, you want me to put in a good word?" Shadow asked, smirking at me from across the table. I looked at him with a blank face, kind of angry that he caught me staring, or that I was staring at all. "You know her?" I asked him. "Uh, I wouldn't say that," he replied. "Actually, I just met her and Mary yesterday. Came in here to see my girl, found out she was cheating, and she wasn't even the girl she claimed to be. Bit.ch literally stole Mary's whole life and fed it to me like it was her own. Fu.cking wild. Got the bit.ch fired after all the drama unfolded." That's... interesting. "Anyway," Shadow continued. "I got Mary's number, since she's apparently the actual girl of my dreams. We been textin', and I bet she would love to hook her loner friend up with a biker." "Loner?" I blurted, confused. Bly always hated being alone. She never wanted space, never complained that all of us were too much for her. If anything, I think she would have been glued to us 24/7 if she was able to be. "That's what Mary said last night when she told me that she finally got Bly to go get a drink with her," he said with a shrug. "Tried to get them to come to the clubhouse and party since you guys came down for some fun and business. Mary thought it was too soon though." I looked at Blythe again. She was on the other side of the restaurant, definitely avoiding me. I knew she recognized me, but I just walked past her. Honestly, I had no idea what to do and that's never happened to me before. I always know what to do. That's why I'm the prez. What do I do now though? Blythe is here, right within my reach. I'm still pi.ssed at her, and I know the others are too. Except Dragon and C.G. If they find out she's here, they'll come for her, even if it means leaving the club. But Blythe didn't come back home. She ran away. She broke her promises and took off to have a new life. Looking at her now, I can see how well she's aged. She looks skinnier, which pi.sses me off, but she looks... tougher too. Her curves have filled out more than nicely. I've never seen such a perfect body. She just needs to eat more. Her hair is up in a messy bun and I wonder if she's kept it long like it was before. Those cobalt eyes were still as electric as ever, but the dark circles under them told of her exhaustion. That surprised look on her face when she saw me, the way that her hand gripped the coffee pot... She was scared of me, but why? Something ain't adding up here, and I need to make a decision about what to do next. "So, want me to put in a good word for you?" Shadow asked again. Blythe went behind the counter and the man who I think runs this sh.ithole started yelling at her. I was waiting for the tears to fall, and I knew I'd get up and threaten the motherfu.cker. Just like when we were kids. Bly was sensitive, and only ever had a backbone when it came to people she was comfortable with. However, Bly turned and put the jacka.ss in his place. I had no idea what was being said, but body language said a lot. Bly wasn't taking his sh.it and the motherfu.cker apparently didn't have a choice but to shut his mouth. Then Bly rolled her eyes and went back to taking care of her customers. That was interesting. Very unlike Bly. The one that I used to know anyway. "No," I finally responded to Shadow. "We're leaving tonight anyway." So, I'll just take her with me.