The Biker Alpha's Contract Mate: The Hidden Heiress

I was forced into a ninety-day probationary contract as the Old Lady of Darrell Sexton, the Alpha Prez of the Iron Claw MC.

Hiding my rare White Wolf bloodline under a dead, human-like scent, the entire pack treated me like worthless country trash.

His jealous club girls hated me, and one night, they finally made their move. They tricked me into a condemned, remote warehouse in the freight yard and padlocked the heavy iron doors from the outside.

When the lights suddenly died, plunging me into pitch-blackness, the trauma of being locked in a blood-soaked underground pit ten years ago violently triggered.

Suffocating, trembling, and bleeding from a bad fall in the dark, I pulled out my phone.

With exactly one percent battery left, I texted an "SOS" to the only person on this territory strong enough to tear down those iron doors—Darrell.

But half a mile away in the roaring Clubhouse, Darrell glanced at the message from my unsaved number.

Assuming it was just another desperate club girl playing games for his attention, he let out a cold sneer.

"Looks like another desperate club girl playing stupid games."

He locked the screen and flipped his phone face-down on the bar without a second thought.

As my screen went permanently black and I lay gasping for air on the freezing, oil-slicked concrete floor, the agonizing truth crushed my chest.

He didn't care, and he wasn't coming.

Right before the darkness swallowed my consciousness completely, the last shred of my patience died.

Darrell Sexton, I will never forgive you for this.

When I get out of here, I'm tearing up this contract, and this arrogant pack will learn exactly what kind of monster they just woke up.