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My Five Relentless Bullies
He texted me after ten years like he still owned me. I fled my abvsive ex to stay alive, but the boy who once swore to protect me just found me first. He's a ruthle$$ biker now, and he didn't come to save me. 🔥 The hunt is over. But who gets to destr0y me first? 🖤 ************** I woke up with my hand pressed over the scar on my ribs, my body already bracing for a h!t that wasn't coming. Twenty-five. Divorced. Broke. But finally hidden. I built a ghost life in Nebraska to escape my ex-husband. Cash-paying diner job. No social media. A packed escape bag hidden under my bed. I survived by being invisible. Then my burner phone buzzed. Unknown number. My blood ran cold. “Sweets, I’m back in town. We need to talk. —Adrian” One nickname. Ten years gone. Adrian was my childhood protector. The first boy who ever made me feel safe, before he changed. Before his Motorcycle Club watched me drown and did nothing. Before I ran. No, I whispered, hands shaking. Ghosts don’t text unless they want to drag you back to he1l. I ignored it. I went to my double shift at the diner, telling myself I was untraceable. I had outrun my past. Then the bell above the diner door rang. A man stepped inside. Black leather. A fire patch stitched across his chest—Inferno’s Dem0n Riders. It’s Adrian. Every muscle in my body locked. The diner went dead silent. Men like that take up space on purpose. He looked around the room, calm, dangerous, like a pred@tor with all the time in the world. Then his eyes locked on me. And he smiled. Not curious. Certain. Like he knew exactly who I was. Like the fragile, invisible life I built had just been shattered to pieces. I backed up until my spine hit the coffee counter. I could run from my ex-husband, but I knew the rules of the Dem0n Riders. You don't outrun them. The biker didn't order coffee. He didn't speak to my manager. He walked straight through the tables, backing me into the corner, crowding my space until all I could smell was leather, smoke, and impending ru!n. He leaned down, his voice a gravelly whisper meant only for me. " It's time to come home, Sweets. "