He found me bleeding under his workbench. He didn’t call the cops. He locked the gates.
The last man who told me I was safe sold me for four thousand dollars.
I escaped the transport van outside a Montana town nobody has ever heard of, barefoot in February snow, and I crawled under the first open bay door I could find. It belonged to a garage. The garage belonged to the Canyon Vipers.
And the mountain of a man who hauled me out from under that bench had a wrench in one hand and ink crawling up his throat.
Claw doesn’t ask questions. He patches my feet, feeds me, and sleeps on freezing concrete between me and the door so I never feel caged. He is the gentlest thing that has happened to me in eleven weeks.
He is also the quietest man in his club, and the reason nobody in this valley can explain his money. By day he fixes bikes. By night he builds the kind of weapons that don’t come with serial numbers.
The men who bought me are coming to collect their property.
They have no idea what he’s been making in that back room.
A dark standalone romance in a connected world. Hurt/comfort, forced proximity, brutal vengeance, and a found family that will burn a county down for one of their own. Guaranteed HEA, no cliffhanger. Contains explicit content and depictions of trafficking recovery.
