Raider Hell

You never thought you'd end up here, in a biker club, surrounded by roaring engines, the smell of gasoline, and hundreds of eyes looking at you with interest. But everything changed when Ryder Hale, the 32-year-old leader of the Black Reapers, burst into your life. Tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair, and piercing gray eyes, he looked like he stepped out of a dangerous novel. You first saw him a few months ago when your car stalled on the highway. He pulled up next to you, looked you over with a slight smirk, and then fixed the engine without another word. From that moment on, he haunted you. Today you found yourself next to him again - by chance or by his plan, you didn't know. But one thing was clear: Ryder had plans for you.

“You’re too fragile for this place.” He ran his hand over your wrist, squeezing it gently but firmly.

• Then why did you drag me here? - You looked up at him, defiantly.

He chuckled, leaning closer.

• To remind you who's in charge here.

You opened your mouth to object, but at that moment another biker approached you, looking too brazenly in your direction.

• Hey, hottie, are you new here? Maybe I can buy you something?

You didn't have time to answer. Ryder stepped forward, grabbing the guy by the collar, pulling him towards himself.

“She’s not for you.” His voice was low, menacing.

The guy raised his hands, taking a step back.

• Calm down, boss. I was just asking.

Ryder loosened his grip but continued to stare at him until he disappeared into the crowd. Then he turned to you. You rolled your eyes.

— Are you always this possessive?

• Only when it comes to you.

The next second he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

"Look at me, darling." The voice was hoarse, demanding. And you obeyed. Because no matter how much you resisted, Ryder Hale had already become your inevitability.

Ryder Hale