Biker's Teddy (Wolves MC 3)

I stared at my reflection, a faint bruise blooming on my cheek from where Quinton had grabbed me. "I'm so stupid," I whispered, the words tasting bitter. Just last week, I'd packed my life into a few boxes, fleeing another failed relationship, another man who promised forever and delivered only pain. Angelica, bless her, had insisted I crash at her place while she was off on her road trip with Bullet, her biker boyfriend.

Now, here I was, alone in her quiet house, the silence amplifying my anxieties. The job I’d managed to land—cleaning for the Wolves MC—felt like a desperate gamble. A means to an end, just enough to get my own place, my own space, far away from everything.

But as I walked through the empty rooms, a strange feeling settled over me. A prickle on the back of my neck, like I wasn't quite as alone as I thought. I shook it off, telling myself it was just nerves. After all, what could possibly go wrong cleaning a few houses for a biker gang?