Sloane POV: Fresh off winning a bloody turf war, Beau Tucker publicly announced in front of the cheering club crowd that Farrah Hicks was now his one-and-only official Old Lady. As for me? I was to be stripped of my title and downgraded to his personal Sweetbutt—a mere plaything. "Look at her," one of the Sweetbutts sitting in the corner booth whispered loudly to her friends, snickering behind her manicured nails. "Thought she was the untouchable biker princess. Now she's just Tucker's free maid. Pathetic." My fingers curled so tightly around the neck of a Lone Star beer bottle that my knuckles turned bone-white. The surrounding cheers seemed to be instantly sucked away; my mind went completely blank, leaving only a deafening ringing in my ears. I shoved past the crowd blocking my way, walking step by step to the wooden bar counter, my eyes locked dead on the man I had loved for nine years. "Beau, what kind of joke are you playing?" I spoke, my voice trembling uncontrollably, carrying a pathetic sense of disbelief even to my own ears. "Nine years ago, you swore an oath on your Cut. You said I was your only..." "Shut up, Sloane." Beau's triumphant smile vanished. He furrowed his brows, a flash of impatience crossing his pale blue eyes. "Don't kill the buzz in front of my brothers." He exhaled a breath heavy with cheap whiskey, looking down at me with condescension. "I just secured the northern highway for this club. It was Farrah who fought side by side with me on the road. We have a bond that a woman like you, who only belongs in a kitchen, couldn't possibly understand. I'm allowing you to stay by my side, and you should be on your knees thanking me." "Thanking you?" A sour, burning ache swelled in my eyes, and my heart felt like it was being brutally crushed by an invisible hand. I fought hard against the choke in my voice, staring him down. "For spending my dead father's money to boost your ego? Or for making me work like a mule day and night to serve your sick mother, while you were out 'fighting side by side' with another woman?!" Those words accurately pierced Beau's fragile and insecure nerves. His face flushed instantly, twisted by pure, vicious fury. He grabbed my arm and yanked me close, dropping his voice into a cruel, venomous hiss meant to tear my soul apart. "You think you're still some high-and-mighty biker princess?" he sneered, his words dripping with poison. "Wake up, Sloane! Your father and brothers died in a highway shootout long ago. And your mother, your sister-in-law, even your ten-year-old nephew—they were butchered without mercy by the Vultures in that safe house! You're the only one left! You're a cursed orphan with a dead bloodline. Letting you stay as my plaything is the greatest mercy you'll ever get!" The words hit me like a shotgun blast at point-blank range, right in the chest. The memories of that blood-soaked floor, of my young nephew's blood-soaked bed, ripped through my mind in a frantic, agonizing tear. This was the deepest, most devastating wound in my soul. And now, the man I once loved unconditionally was ruthlessly ripping it open in front of a cheering crowd, pouring coarse salt on it just to protect his pathetic ego. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that I tasted the heavy metallic tang of blood. But in that very second, the heart-shredding agony suddenly stopped. Looking at Beau's face, which had become hideous from sheer malice, all the illusions I had of him shattered to dust in my mind. I finally realized that the man standing before me wasn't worth a single drop of my tears. Nine years of my youth had been fed to a cold-blooded beast. "Beau's right, honey," Farrah drawled, swaying her hips as she strolled over. She linked her arm possessively through Beau's. "He needs a real woman by his side, but I'm not a jealous bitch. I'm totally fine with you staying to warm his bed when I'm tired, as long as you recognize your place. We can coexist." "Sloane Keller, watch your attitude!" Beau's mother, Judith Tucker, marched over, her face twisted in a severe scowl. "Farrah is a heroine. With her around, my heart condition feels so much better! You should be grateful we didn't throw you out to the wolves!" A wave of pure, absurd mockery washed over me, burning away the last ounce of weakness in my heart. Heroine? Heart condition? Just last month, when Judith was dying of a severe heart spasm, it was me who begged the underground doctor, paying him with my secretly saved cash just to keep her breathing. I looked down at the unopened beer bottle in my hand. Then, I raised my arm and, with violent, resolute force, slammed the glass bottle hard onto the wooden bar counter. The sharp, heavy thud cut through the noise like a gunshot, sending glass shards and alcohol flying everywhere, instantly plunging the room near the bar into a dead silence. "Coexist?" I looked up, sweeping my gaze past Farrah's shocked face before landing coldly on Beau. My voice no longer trembled; instead, it was laced with a deadly, freezing calm, stripped of all warmth. "I'd rather swallow glass." Beau froze, seemingly completely unprepared for me to snap out of my breakdown so instantly. "Let's get this straight. I'm done being your free maid, and I'm done letting you bleed my father's legacy dry," I said, staring straight into his eyes, enunciating every word and looking at him like a piece of trash. "Our vows are dead. We are done, Beau. Don't ever expect me to look back." I didn't wait for their reaction. I turned on my heel, pushed the heavy timber doors open, and stormed out into the biting desert night. The night wind dried the very last tear I had shed out of pure stupidity. Suddenly, I slammed hard into a solid wall of muscle and leather. A pair of massive, steady hands gripped my shoulders, keeping me from falling. A sharp, overwhelming scent of dark tobacco, gun oil, and something distinctly unique washed over me. "Watch your step," a deep, gravelly voice rumbled above my head, the vibration traveling right through my chest. I was so drained by that absolute severing of ties that I couldn't care less. I didn't look up to see his face, nor did I look at the patch on his Cut. I just gently pulled away from his grip, muttered a low "Thank you," and walked straight to Beau's spare Sportster. I kicked the starter, tearing out into the black night.

Julisa POV: The freezing mist of the High Court bit into my cheeks as I hurried along the damp stone corridors back to my private bedchamber. The lingering scent of dark pine and frost from the man I had just collided with still clung to my cloak, and my dormant blood was still humming strangely from his suffocating Sovereign pressure. But I didn't have the luxury to wonder who he was. I pushed my heavy timber door open and locked it behind me. My personal maid, Molly, was pacing anxiously by the hearth. The moment she saw me, she rushed over to take my cloak, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "My lady," she choked out, her voice trembling. "The servants are gossiping... They say the Clan Lord brought a woman back from the Rift and wants to give her an equal alliance. How could he do this? After everything you poured into this rotting keep over the past year..." I didn't answer. I walked past the grand wardrobe filled with pastel silk gowns—clothes Dowager Lady Beulah had specifically chosen to make me look like a tame, submissive housewife who knew her place. I didn't touch a single piece of silk. Instead, I dropped to my knees, reached into the deepest corner under my bed, and dragged out a heavy ironwood trunk. I unbuckled the brass latches. The lid creaked open, releasing the familiar, metallic scent of cold iron and old blood. My chest tightened as my fingers brushed over the top item—a scorched, bloodstained mithril crest bearing the roaring stag insignia of Clan Richardson. Beneath it lay a stack of untouched property deeds and a tarnished silver rattle that once belonged to a child. I pulled the rattle into the pale glow of the moonstones embedded in the wall. Three years ago, my father and my six older brothers marched to the Abyssal Rift. They were the proudest First-Tier Warlords of this kingdom. They held the frontline until their very last breath, dying as heroes. But the nightmare didn't end there. The official story fed to the Great Council was that a rogue pack of Abyssal assassins slipped past the borders and randomly attacked our ancestral manor. I survived only because my mother stuffed me inside the secret rune-cellar beneath the floorboards just before the demon fire started ripping through the manor walls. I heard every scream. I heard the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart. They butchered my mother, my sister-in-law, and even my two-year-old nephew. I crouched in the dark, covering my mouth with both hands as my two-year-old nephew's blood seeped through the floorboards and dripped onto my face. They left nothing but ash and shattered bones. When the smoke cleared, Clan Parrish stepped in. They called it charity. They claimed they were honoring my father's heroic memory by offering a Court Alliance to his orphaned, Spiritless daughter. But now I knew the truth. They took me in solely to siphon off the massive Silverdew death compensations my father had left behind, and to exploit my sacred weaving skills to fund Darryl's military ambitions. I set the silver rattle down on the floor. The agonizing grief that used to choke me had hardened into cold, tempered steel. "Molly, bring me the ledgers," I said, my voice completely devoid of tremors. Molly wiped her tears, walked to the hidden wall compartment, and pulled out a thick sheepskin ledger. I took the book and ran my fingers over the dense rows of ink recording thousands of phials of Silverdew spent on Darryl's troops and his mother's medicine. "Starting this exact second, cut off all supplies of refined Silverdew to the main courtyard," I ordered coldly. Molly gasped, her hands tightening on her apron. "But my lady, the Dowager Lady Beulah's Tree Spirit is withering! She only survives because of the Blood-Tempering Elixirs you beg from Grandmaster Jamie Cooke every month! Without your seal, the Apothecary Temple will cut off her medicine!" I snapped the ledger shut with a heavy thud. "Then let her ask their glorious new heroine for elixirs." A fierce spark of realization lit up Molly's eyes, and she nodded vigorously. "Yes, my lady! I will inform the apothecary and the silk-weaving workshops at once." Urgent, heavy footsteps suddenly echoed in the hallway outside, followed by a sharp, authoritative knock on the timber door. "My lady!" a guard called from the corridor. "Lady Beulah's maid just brought word—you are summoned to the upper hall immediately!" I rubbed my thumb over the cold ridges of my father's mithril crest. Darryl had clearly wasted no time running to his mother to play the victim. "My lady, the Dowager is surely setting a trap for you to force you to hand over the vault keys," Molly whispered, stepping closer. "Should I tell them you are unwell?" "Why would I hide?" I slipped the mithril crest into my wide sleeve and stood up straight, my green eyes flashing with a predatory sharpness. "I want to see just how shameless this family can be." I pulled the door open, brushed past the startled guard, and walked briskly along the suspended vine-bridge leading to the keep's upper hall. As I reached the carved double doors of the upper hall, Birgitta's sweet, innocent laughter drifted through the cracks, mingled with my mother-in-law Beulah's unusually warm and affectionate voice. They were celebrating their victory, thinking they had finally broken the pet they raised. They forgot whose blood flowed in my veins. I drew a deep breath of the damp air, raised both hands, and shoved the heavy timber doors wide open.

Sloane POV: By nearly seven in the morning, I stood leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping my own cup of black coffee, watching the second hand on the wall clock tick closer to the hour. On the oak table in front of me sat the heavy brass ring of house keys and the leather-bound ledger. Heavy footsteps clattered down the wooden staircase. Beau's mother, Judith Tucker, walked in first, wearing her embroidered silk robe, a lit cigarette dangling between her fingers. Trailing behind her was Beau's sister, Brandi, rubbing her temples from a massive hangover. Judith stopped in her tracks when she saw me. A smug, mocking sneer immediately crossed her face. "Look who's still here," Judith scoffed. "After your dramatic little exit at the bar last night, I thought you'd actually packed your bags. Guess you finally realized you'd starve on the streets without my son taking care of you." Brandi snorted. "Told you, Mom. She's all talk." I didn't get angry. I just pushed the keys and the thick ledger toward the center of the table. Judith frowned. "What is this?" "That's the house," I said evenly. "Every key. Every account number. Oh, and the private funds I've been bleeding from my own inheritance to keep you people afloat. As of seven o'clock this morning, I'm cutting you off." Brandi's mouth hung open. "Are you out of your damn mind?" "Sloane Keller!" Judith hissed, crushing her cigarette onto a saucer. "You don't dictate terms in my house! We took you off the street! You owe us everything! Your place here was sanctioned by the club!" "Then the club can unsanction it," I said, resting my palms flat on the oak table. "In the 1%er world, a verbal breakup means nothing. Without a formal ruling, Beau thinks he can still control me. So, I'm going to see Elias Morrow this morning. I'm going to ask for a formal release. I'm cutting all ties with the Tucker family permanently." The mention of the National President's name dropped the temperature in the room by twenty degrees. Elias Morrow held the absolute power of life and death over every patched member. "You wouldn't dare," Judith whispered, panic cracking her voice. The front screen door banged open. Beau marched into the kitchen. He had clearly spent the night at Farrah's place—his Cut was rumpled, reeking of stale beer and cheap vanilla perfume. "What the hell is all this yelling about?" Beau barked. "Your little charity case threw the keys on the table!" Brandi yelled. "She says she's going to Elias for a formal release!" Beau's head snapped toward me, his brows pulling into a furious deep frown. "You're doing what?" He took a threatening step toward me, but before he could open his mouth again, a truck horn blew two short, ear-piercing blasts from the front yard. The deafening sound of shattering ceramic echoed through the open windows. "What the fuck was that?!" Beau roared. "My imported garden fountain!" Judith shrieked. "Beau Tucker! Get your cheating ass out here right now!" Ruby's furious voice bellowed from the yard.