The Princess' Killer

Juliet Teller was a living, breathing princess.

She knew it, the club knew it, and the people of Charming knew it. Not in a tiara and sparkles kind of way rather in the way she carried herself with grace and grit, born and raised in the chaos of Teller blood and Redwood Original oil. Kind, caring, and nurturing to the core, she was sunshine in human form. A soft-hearted storm in jeans and leather, always ready with a warm meal, a stitched-up wound, or a sharp word when someone needed setting straight.

She was the best parts of her mother, softened by time and her own stubborn heart. Strong and soft in all the right places. She took care of everyone.

Happy Lowman was nothing like her.

A reaper in the flesh. A hitman who didn't ask questions. Cold hands with an even colder stare, he wore his kutte with deadly pride and lived by the club's code with brutal devotion. Where Juliet brought light, Happy brought silence. Efficient. Unfeeling. Unapologetic. The kind of man who didn't make friends, didn't do soft, and didn't play nice.

At least, not until fate dropped Juliet Teller into his path like a warm hand pressed against a loaded gun.