Zara

Nearly a decade has passed since Zara last walked through the gates of the Hell's Riders. Daughter of the club's enforcer and blood tied to an Albanian mafia clan across the sea, she should have come home untouched by the world. Instead, she returns changed, carrying years no one can explain. No one knows where she has been or how she survived it, and Zara plans to keep it that way. Marked by scars she never explains and ghosts that refuse to loosen their grip, she comes back to Colorado determined to reclaim the life stolen from her without surrendering the pieces of herself she fought to keep.

Killian has spent those same years becoming exactly the man the Hell's Riders need at the top. Cold, precise, and brutally controlled, he stands as the club's vice president beneath his father's rule, carrying a reputation no one questions. He has his own ghosts and too much blood on his hands to still believe in innocence, but Zara has always been the one thing that fractures his control. She comes back sharper, wilder, and harder to hold, and every part of him that should know better still turns toward her. As old loyalties strain and buried truths begin to surface, Zara and Killian are forced to face a love shaped by everything the world made them become.

Her hand hit the door.

"Gomar!" she screamed again, right in my face this time. (Asshole!)

The door slammed hard enough to shake the frame.

I stood there staring at the wood, breathing through my nose, every muscle in my body locked tight.
Downstairs the clubhouse carried on.

Laughter.
Music.
Glass.
Life.

Up here it was just me, the door, and the heat still moving under my skin where she'd shoved her hands into my chest.

I dragged one hand over my mouth.

Ten years. Ten fucking years.

And she was here. Furious at me.

Hurting.

Sharp because she was cut open and trying to make sure no one got close enough to see it.
And Christ.

She was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.