Claimed by the Reaper

Rain hammered against the windshield hard enough to blur the road into streaks of silver and black. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, knuckles pale, heartbeat loud in the suffocating silence of the car. Three missed calls. Nine unread messages. All from Daniel. I ignored every single one. The highway sign appeared through the storm. BLACK HOLLOW Population: 1,256 Perfect. Small enough to disappear in. Small enough that nobody would care who I used to be. My old life felt a thousand miles away already. The apartment. The engagement ring sitting abandoned on the bathroom counter. Daniel pinning another woman against our kitchen wall while telling me it “wasn’t what it looked like.” The memory still made me sick. Not because he cheated. Because I’d been stupid enough to trust him. Thunder cracked overhead. My car jerked violently. “Come on,” I muttered. The engine coughed once. Then died. “No, no, no—” The steering wheel locked as the car rolled unevenly toward the side of the empty road. Rain poured harder, drumming against the roof while I stared at the dashboard in disbelief. Dead. Of course it was dead. I laughed once under my breath, the sound shaky and exhausted. Because apparently losing my fiancé, my apartment, my savings, and my entire life in forty-eight hours wasn’t enough. Now the universe wanted my car too. I dropped my forehead against the steering wheel. For one pathetic second, I almost cried. Then headlights appeared in my rearview mirror. Bright. Slow. Approaching. Panic snapped through me instantly. Daniel. Had to be. I fumbled for my phone with trembling hands, pulse racing as the truck behind me stopped. Huge. Black. Engine rumbling low like some kind of predator. The driver’s door opened. Heavy boots hit wet pavement. I held my breath. A massive figure approached through the rain, broad shoulders barely visible beneath a dark jacket. The man stopped beside my window and knocked once. I cracked the window just enough. “What?” I snapped. Dark eyes studied me silently. Not Daniel. Definitely not Daniel. This man looked far worse. Tall enough that I had to tilt my head back even sitting down. Thick beard. Tattoos crawling up his throat. Black hood pulled low over his forehead. Dangerous. Every instinct I had screamed it immediately. “You broke down,” he said. Deep voice. Rough. Calm. “I noticed.” His gaze moved over my face carefully before dropping lower. To the fading bruises around my wrist. My stomach tightened. His expression changed instantly. Not softer. Worse. Colder. “Got someone waiting for you in town?” he asked. “No.” “You alone?” “That a problem?” One corner of his mouth twitched like he almost respected the attitude. “Mechanic’s closed this late,” he said. “Storm’s getting worse.” I glanced down the empty road. No lights. No people. Nothing except rain and forest. The smart choice would’ve been refusing help from a stranger who looked like he buried bodies for fun. Unfortunately, I didn’t exactly have better options. “What’s in town?” I asked carefully. “Bar.” Of course. “You always pick up stranded women in the middle of nowhere?” “Only the stubborn ones.” I should’ve said no. Instead, twenty minutes later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of his truck trying not to notice how large he looked behind the wheel. The cab smelled like smoke, leather, and something darkly masculine that made my already exhausted brain malfunction slightly. Neither of us spoke. Rain streaked across the windows while the town slowly appeared ahead. Black Hollow looked frozen in time. Dim streetlights. Closed storefronts. Empty sidewalks. And then I saw it. A glowing red neon sign burning through the rain. REAPER’S BAR Motorcycles lined the front. Big men covered in leather stood outside smoking beneath the awning. Every single one of them looked dangerous. My stomach dropped. The truck parked. “You own this place?” I asked quietly. The man killed the engine. “Yeah.” Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. He stepped out into the rain, then walked around to my side before opening the door for me. The second my boots hit the pavement, conversation outside the bar stopped. Every biker turned toward me. I felt it immediately. The attention. The curiosity. The danger. A blond man leaning against the wall whistled low. “Well, damn.” Another one smirked. “Where’d you find her?” The tattooed stranger shut the truck door behind me. “That enough talking from you idiots?” Silence. Instant silence. Nobody argued. That was the moment I realized exactly who he was to these men. Not just another biker. Their leader. He looked down at me. “Stay close.” Not a suggestion. An order. I should’ve walked away right then. Instead, I followed him into the bar. Warmth slammed into me instantly. Music played low through old speakers while whiskey, smoke, and leather filled the air. The entire room stared. The stranger removed his hood slowly, revealing dark hair damp from the rain and tattoos disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt. Women at the bar straightened instantly when they saw him. One even slid off her stool like she wanted his attention. He ignored all of them. Completely. His eyes stayed on me. “Sit,” he said, motioning toward the stool beside him. I hesitated. Big mistake. Because another man approached before I could answer. “You need a drink, sweetheart?” he asked with an easy grin. The biker beside me went completely still. The air changed instantly. Dangerously. The smiling man noticed too late. “She’s sitting here,” the tattooed stranger said quietly. Something about his voice made even me tense. The other biker lifted both hands immediately. “Easy, Reaper. Didn’t know she was yours.” Yours. Heat climbed unexpectedly into my face. Reaper’s gaze slid toward me slowly. Heavy. Possessive. Terrifying. Then he pulled out the stool beside him himself and looked directly into my eyes. “Sit beside me, Ivy.” My breath caught. I never told him my name.