Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
He has me.
Little ol’ me.
Daughter of billionaire Marron Genworth.
Okay, so maybe not so little.
“How are you feeling?” Koyn asks, his voice even. Curious. Surprisingly caring.
“Fine. Should I, uh, sit?”
Koyn’s face morphs into a wolfish grin as he pushes back slightly from the table and pats his lap. “Here.”
Ignoring the stares of the other bikers, I saunter over to Koyn as though I’m prancing across a pageant stage, vying for the number one spot. In this competition, I am. I know these bikers are brotherhood above all else. I need to somehow take the throne above brotherhood. As I pass Dragon, I fear he’ll snatch me or stab me or do some other crazy ass thing, but all he does is chuckle under his breath.
These men wear leather cuts. Some have beards. Most have tattoos. Each has a weapon within reach. They give off the dirty MC gang vibe, but intelligence gleams in each pair of eyes, even Bizzy’s. They’re smart and loyal and rich. I’m not sure how Koyn created this band of brothers, but he did it with precision. Each man here is a reflection of the man at the head of the table—brilliant, calculating, hard. They’re obviously a team—a force to be reckoned with. And though I’m technically their prisoner, I’m rooting for their team.
Because the other team…the other team is scary.
Magna and my dad have always made for a wicked team. My dad is rich and has connections, therefore he gets Magna to hop around on his feet, trying to get the carrot he dangles. When not dazzled by Dad’s ungodly amount of dollars, Magna is on his own team. Hell-bent on creating the best world he can for himself. It was never about his son or his old MC or my father. It was all about Magna.
With Dad’s money and power coupled with Magna’s brutality, I wonder if Koyn and the other Royal Bastards will even stand a chance against them.
“You going to stare all night or come sit in my lap?” Koyn asks lowly, his dark eyes pinning me in place.
I suck in a deep breath, lift my chin, and strut the rest of the way toward him. My heart is racing in my chest, but I try not to seem affected by him or his men. Plopping down on his thigh, I try not to wince at my sore asshole.
“What now?” I demand, feigning irritation at having to be at a boring meeting.
Koyn splays a possessive hand on my stomach and pulls me back against his chest. “We were just discussing how poor your father grows by the second.”
“Poor?”
Koyn leans forward and hits a button on his laptop. I stare in fascination at my dad’s online banking. All the accounts are down to zero aside from his checking account, which has five hundred bucks in it.
“You missed some,” I mutter.
Koyn laughs. “I had to leave him some gas money for the trip up here.”
I tense in his arms, my fingernails digging into the flesh of his forearms. “He’s on his way?” My throat aches as bile creeps up. A wave of dizziness has me sucking in sharp breaths of air. Tears burn and sting my eyes.
“Scared I’ll hurt your precious daddy?” His taunted words are low and menacing.
A tear leaks free and I catch Filter’s somber stare. Quickly, I look away from him and swipe my cheek with my thumb. “No,” I utter, five seconds too late.
“You’re mistaken,” he growls, his fingers brushing along my stomach. “You should be scared. I won’t go easy on him. I’ll make him fucking pay and then I’ll kill him.”
“I’m not scared you’ll hurt him.” I swallow and look over my shoulder at Koyn. “I’m scared of what he’ll do now. To you. To them.”
Koyn’s eyes narrow to slits as he inspects me, searching for truth in my words. I feel as though he can see right inside my head. Disgust washes over me. Can he see the filthy, dirty parts I hide from everyone? The ones that solely involve my father? My throat tightens as I blink rapidly to rid myself of memories of the past year. Magna may have fucked me like I was his, but I could handle him. It was Dad who tore pieces of my soul away each time he stepped into my bedroom. The wrongness of what he did will haunt me until the day I die.
Which very well could be soon.
Today even.
Will Koyn have any use for me if he manages to kill my father?
Or will I be expendable?
What about our baby?
Feeling a fierce protectiveness ripple through me, I clutch my stomach as though I can somehow protect the tiny life from the horrors in my world. But Koyn’s hand is still there. Still holding my stomach like I own a piece of him. My fingers flitter over his skin, unsure if I should link my fingers with his or pull away. His other hand covers mine, making the decision for me.