IN BED WITH HER HOT ALPHA BIKERS

Chapter 6

RAVIENNE

I woke up choking on the sharp, acrid smell of chemicals.

For one terrifying second, I forgot where I was. Darkness pressed in from all sides, cold metal dug into my back, and the faint rumbling beneath me sent panic exploding through my chest. Then memory crashed over me like a tidal wave.

The prison.

The woods.

The fall.

Knox’s cruel smile.

Ashlyn.

My breath caught painfully as I jerked upright.

“Ash?”

My daughter lay curled weakly against my lap beneath the thin cloth I had wrapped around her before passing out. My heart hammered violently as I scanned the dark interior of the truck, trying to grasp how long I had been unconscious.

The truck was no longer moving.

Silence echoed around us, broken only by distant voices somewhere outside.

Fear clawed up my throat. How long had I passed out for?

I crawled desperately toward the tiny crack between the truck doors and peeked outside.

Bright sunlight blinded me. I flinched back.

Daytime. Not morning.

The sun sat far too high in the sky.

My stomach twisted violently.

Noon. It had to be close to noon.

Horror flooded through me. I had passed out for nearly an entire day.

“Oh God…”

Panic yanked my attention back to Ashlyn. The moment I truly looked at her, my heart nearly stopped.

She looked worse. So much worse.

Her skin had turned a terrifying, ghostly pale beneath the dirt smudged across her tiny face. Her small body trembled weakly under the cloth, and each shallow breath sounded fainter than the last, as if her little lungs were giving up.

“Ashlyn,” I whispered, crawling back to her and pulling her carefully into my arms. “Baby…”

Her eyes barely fluttered open.

“Mama…”

Her voice was so dry and fragile it ripped my soul in two.

“I’m here,” I whispered instantly, my throat burning. “I’m right here, my love.”

“H-Hungry…”

Tears flooded my eyes.

“And thirsty…”

My chest cracked wide open at the sound of her tiny, broken voice.

I looked around the truck wildly. I needed water. Food. Medicine. Anything. But there was nothing except darkness, crates, and that horrible chemical stench choking the air.

My hands shook as I crawled to the nearest wooden crate and pried it open.

The smell hit me like a slap. Bottles. Metal containers. Warning labels. Chemicals.

“No…”

I tore open another crate. Then another.

Still nothing useful. Only more chemicals.

Panic swallowed me whole.

No no no. Think. Please think.

I pressed trembling fingers to Ashlyn’s forehead and nearly broke when I felt how fiercely the fever still burned through her. Her body shook harder in my arms.

I could not stay hidden here any longer. If I did, she would die.

The realization slammed into me with brutal force, nausea rising in my throat.

I had to leave.

But the moment I stepped outside, everything could end. If anyone recognized me, I would be dragged back to Crescent Ridge in chains. No Mira. No second chance. Only death.

I swallowed hard against the terror tightening around my throat and waited until the voices outside faded. Then I carefully lifted Ashlyn into my arms and pushed the truck door open just enough to slip through.

The instant my bare feet touched concrete, agony exploded through my broken ankle. I nearly cried out. My entire body felt shattered. Still, I lowered my head and forced myself forward.

Do not panic. Do not look suspicious. Just keep moving.

The place was completely unfamiliar. Narrow streets crowded with buildings, motorcycles lined along sidewalks. Wolves moved about in dark clothes and leather jackets, some heavily tattooed, others openly carrying weapons.

This was not Crescent Ridge.

Another pack.

I pulled Ashlyn closer, shielding her as I limped away from the truck. Every step sent white-hot pain through my ankle, exhaustion dragging at my bones.

Then I spotted the dumpster hidden in a narrow alley.

My stomach twisted with shame.

What kind of mother hides her child in a dumpster?

But Ashlyn needed food. Water. Something.

I crouched beside it, gently laying her down behind several trash bags where she wouldn’t be seen immediately.

“Ash,” I whispered shakily.

Her weak eyes lifted to mine. “Mama?”

The fear in her tiny voice nearly destroyed me.

“I’m coming back,” I promised, brushing damp curls from her forehead. “I just need to get food for you, sweetheart.”

Fear filled her little face.

“No no,” I whispered quickly, my voice breaking. “I’ll be fast. I promise.”

She looked so small. So fragile. Like life was slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I tried to hold on.

I lowered the lid just enough to hide her without sealing it completely, then forced myself to walk away. Every instinct screamed at me to stay, but she needed food.

And I was already failing her all over again.

I kept my head down as I moved through the unfamiliar streets. Then the smell hit me — fresh bread. My stomach cramped violently from hunger. I couldn’t even remember my last proper meal.

A small café sat on the corner, warm lights glowing through the windows. People sat outside laughing, as if the world wasn’t cruel enough to destroy mothers and children.

I stared through the glass at the baskets of warm bread.

My hands trembled. I could steal just one loaf. Nobody would notice.

Swallowing my fear, I stepped inside. Warmth enveloped me — coffee, pastries, voices. The smell nearly made me dizzy.

Then I became painfully aware of myself: my soaked, ruined dress, mud-caked legs, dried blood on my skin. I looked insane.

People glanced at me and quickly looked away. Shame burned through my chest.

I lowered my head and approached the counter, heart pounding. My fingers closed shakily around a loaf of bread.

Run.

I turned — and a hand touched my shoulder.

I froze.

A woman stood there, concern etched on her face. “Miss? Are you alright? Can I help you?”

Panic exploded inside me. I ran.

I shoved past tables, clutching the bread to my chest as voices shouted behind me.

“Hey!”

“She’s stealing!”

Hands reached for me.

“No!” I gasped, jerking away.

Then the woman’s voice rang out clearly: “Let her go! She might be hungry.”

Tears burned my eyes. I didn’t wait. I ran as fast as my broken body would allow, fear clawing at me the entire way back to the alley.

What if someone followed? What if they recognized me? What if Ashlyn was gone?

I threw open the dumpster lid with a desperate sob.

Relief crashed over me so hard my knees nearly buckled.

She was still there.

“Ash…”

I pulled her into my arms, but fresh terror flooded me at how limp she felt.

“I got food,” I whispered shakily.

I tore the bread apart with trembling fingers and brought small pieces to her lips. She barely ate. Each tiny bite seemed to cost her everything.

I held her tightly afterward and kept walking. I didn’t even know where I was going anymore — only away.

The streets grew quieter as darkness crept back over the city. Rain began pouring again. A weak, broken laugh almost escaped me at the cruelty of it. Of course it was raining again. Of course the world would not spare us even one moment of mercy.

Then I saw it.

A massive building stood farther down the road, dark and imposing beneath the stormy sky. Motorcycles lined the entrance, dim lights glowing through tall windows. No one seemed nearby.

Good enough.

I lowered myself against the wall, cradling Ashlyn desperately against my chest. Just a few minutes. Just enough to breathe.

Rain soaked us instantly. I curled protectively around her, trying to shield her tiny body from the cold.

“It’s okay,” I whispered weakly. “Mama’s here.”

No response.

Fear flickered. “Ash?”

I pulled back slightly. Her head lolled limply against my arm.

Too limply.

Panic exploded through me.

“Ashlyn.”

Nothing.

My heart stopped.

“No. No no no—”

I touched her face. Cold. Too cold.

She wasn’t breathing.

The world shattered around me.

“Ashlyn!”

I shook her gently, sobs ripping violently from my throat. “No no no please—”

Terror consumed me completely. I stumbled upright, clutching her limp body against my chest.

“Please!” I screamed brokenly into the storm as rain poured mercilessly over us. “Please wake up!”

Nothing.

I ran toward the massive black doors and pounded on them with everything I had left.

“Help!” I screamed hysterically. “Please somebody help my daughter!”

I kept banging desperately, sobs tearing through me.

“She’s not breathing!” I cried. “Please!”

Lightning flashed across the sky. Thunder roared.

Then the doors opened.

Three men stepped out.

Massive. Tall. Dangerous.

The storm itself seemed to bend around them.

One had silver eyes so cold they stole the breath from my lungs. Another looked like violence lived beneath his skin. The third stared too calmly, too observantly.

Tattooed. Leather jackets. Predatory wolves whose presence pressed suffocatingly against every instinct I had.

Recognition hit me like a blade to the heart.

My blood turned to ice.

The Montague brothers.

Oh God. Oh no. No no no no. Goddess, please no. This can't be.

I was in Black Hollow.

The Rogue Bikers Pack.