Claimed by the Biker Giant

Prologue

The Night the Giant Claimed My Fate

Rain hammered the empty highway with enough force to blur the yellow centerline into a trembling ribbon of light.

Every breath burned in my lungs as I stumbled through the darkness, my soaked boots slipping against the cracked pavement while the roar of motorcycle engines echoed somewhere behind me.

They were getting closer. They always got closer.

I dared one look over my shoulder.

Three headlights pierced the storm like the eyes of predators.

They rode without hesitation, engines screaming as if they already knew the hunt was over.

My pulse slammed against my ribs. I had spent two days running, hiding in abandoned barns, stealing rides from strangers, and praying that every passing mile would put enough distance between me and the men determined to erase me forever.

It hadn't.

The evidence hidden inside my backpack had made me valuable. More dangerous than valuable. I had witnessed something I was never supposed to see, something powerful men had buried beneath money, blood, and fear. They had silenced everyone else.

Now they wanted to silence me.

The forest beside the highway offered little shelter, but instinct drove me toward the trees anyway. Wet branches clawed at my face as I forced my way through thick undergrowth, each step carrying me farther from the road and deeper into darkness. Behind me, engines slowed.

Then they stopped.

Silence settled over the woods.

That frightened me more than the motorcycles ever could.

"They're hunting on foot," I whispered to myself.

A flashlight swept across the trees.

Another followed.

Then another.

Voices drifted through the rain.

"Spread out."

"She can't have gone far."

"Boss wants her alive."

Alive.

For now.

I crouched behind the trunk of an enormous oak, forcing my trembling hands over my mouth to stop my breathing from giving me away. My heartbeat sounded impossibly loud. Every second stretched longer than the last.

A twig snapped somewhere to my left.

Someone laughed.

"There you are."

I ran.

Branches whipped across my face as I sprinted downhill, sliding through mud before crashing into a rocky creek. Freezing water swallowed my legs, but terror forced me forward. I climbed the opposite bank just as a gunshot shattered the night.

The bullet struck the tree inches from my head.

Another followed.

Splinters exploded into the air.

"Don't kill her!" someone shouted. "The boss wants answers first."

A hand grabbed my jacket.

I screamed and twisted free, leaving torn fabric in gloved fingers before throwing myself blindly toward the road once more.

The forest suddenly ended.

I burst onto a deserted stretch of highway.

Headlights blinded me.

Not one motorcycle.

An entire convoy.

Black touring bikes emerged from the rain like shadows carved from steel, moving with perfect discipline. Chrome reflected flashes of lightning while leather-clad riders formed a wall across both lanes. Their engines thundered with effortless authority.

Every patch on their backs carried the same emblem.

A massive black iron skull crowned with broken wings.

Black Iron MC.

The stories flooded back instantly.

Smugglers.

Outlaws.

Executioners.

Men who answered to no government and feared no cartel.

At the center of the formation rode someone unlike anyone I had ever seen.

He was enormous.

Even seated on a heavyweight touring motorcycle, he towered above every rider surrounding him.

Broad shoulders stretched beneath a rain-darkened leather cut.

Thick forearms rested calmly on the handlebars, each hand scarred from years of violence.

His beard framed a face that looked carved from granite, while pale gray eyes studied the chaos ahead with unnerving patience.

He didn't look angry.

He looked inevitable.

The hunters burst from the trees behind me, weapons raised.

"There she is!"

One of them aimed directly at my back.

The giant moved.

Not quickly.

Not frantically.

Simply with absolute certainty.

His motorcycle rolled forward a single length before stopping between me and the armed men. The rest of the convoy shifted with military precision, forming an impenetrable barrier around him.

Rain dripped from the brim of his helmet as he slowly removed it.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the storm itself.

One of the gunmen hesitated.

Recognition spread across his face.

"Oh... hell."

Another lowered his weapon.

"No..."

The third took one terrified step backward.

"It can't be him."

The giant spoke only four words.

"You're on my road."

His voice was low enough that it barely rose above the rain, yet every man heard it.

The hunters exchanged uneasy glances.

"Our business isn't with you," their leader called. "Hand over the girl, and we'll leave."

The giant didn't answer.

He simply looked at me.

For the first time since the nightmare had begun, I felt something stronger than fear.

Hope.

It lasted exactly three seconds.

Then the giant looked back at the men behind me.

"You chased her," he said quietly.

Nobody moved.

"You fired at her."

Lightning split the sky.

"You brought your war onto Black Iron territory."

His expression never changed.

"Now it's mine."

The first gunshot came from the hunters.

The last belonged to the giant.

When the echoes finally disappeared into the storm, the road was littered with smoking weapons, shattered motorcycles, and men who would never threaten anyone again.

I couldn't force my legs to move.

The giant walked toward me through the rain, each heavy step impossibly calm for someone who had ended a battle in less than a minute.

He stopped only an arm's length away.

His eyes settled on the blood staining my sleeve.

"You're hurt."

"I... I'm fine."

"No," he replied. "You're alive."

There was a difference.

Before I could answer, he reached into his leather vest and removed a small silver coin engraved with the Black Iron skull. He pressed it gently into my trembling hand.

"If anyone comes for you again," he said, "show them this."

I stared at the symbol resting against my palm.

"What does it mean?"

The giant held my gaze for a long, silent moment.

"It means," he said, "they'll have to come through me."

I had no idea that accepting that small piece of silver would cost me my freedom, my old life, and eventually my heart.

Nor did I know that, before this war was over, the entire underworld would remember the night the giant claimed my fate.