Becoming the Old Lady of My Ex's Mortal Enemy

Harley POV:

The night wind scraped against my cheeks like cold blades. I pulled out my phone with its shattered screen and opened an encrypted number you could only find on the dark web.

"I need the absolute toughest backer in this hellhole. The Pit. Half an hour." Hitting send, I mounted my backup bike and roared toward that lawless wasteland, a gathering spot for criminals, runaways, and club outcasts.

I pushed open the heavy wooden doors, and a wall of deafening heavy metal bass, cheap beer, and rancid sweat slammed into me.

Dozens of hungry, wolf-like eyes instantly locked onto me. Ignoring the filthy whistles, I walked straight to the darkest back room that seemed to swallow all light and kicked the door wide open.

The air inside instantly dropped to freezing. A man built like a raging bear sat in the main chair, flanked by heavily muscled bikers.

He was hidden in the shadows, the cherry of his cigarette glowing in the dark. "You the dark web broker, Jagger Vance?" I asked coldly, suppressing the flutter in my chest.

He didn't answer. Those ice-blue eyes scanned me like a predator assessing prey before he let out a low, mocking scoff. "Little girl, you want top-tier protection in this cannibalistic territory. What exactly are you bringing to the table?"

I sneered, reaching behind my back to pull out a custom, oil-stained heavy wrench. With all my might, I slammed it into the solid wood table in front of him!

"BANG!" The wood instantly caved in, sending splinters flying. "With this!" I tilted my chin up, my gaze even more arrogant than his.

"If it has an engine, I can bring it back from the dead! I want an 'Old Lady' title as a shield for one year, and in exchange, I will handle every single bike customization for your entire club! For free!"

The man stared at the dented table and the wrench, then at my fearless, defiant aura. A flash of intense admiration crossed his eyes. He suddenly erupted into roaring laughter. "Arrogant! I love it!"

He stood up excitedly and slapped his massive hand hard on the shoulder of a two-meter-tall, scar-faced subordinate standing next to him. "Hear that? We found a literal treasure!" The hulking subordinate actually blushed, squirming bashfully.

Seeing this, my mouth twitched, and everything suddenly made perfect sense. Underground rumors said Jagger Vance was a massive faggot who only cared about men.

The rumors were true! No wonder he had zero interest in my smoking hot body. He was the absolute perfect partner for this fake deal.

I raised an eyebrow, holding back a smirk. "Since we have a deal, care to tell me who you really are?" He just blew out a puff of smoke. "You just need to know I'm the guy who walks this street sideways."

Just then, a commotion erupted at the door. Two blackout-drunk street thugs stumbled in. One of them spotted me, let out a lewd whistle, and reached his filthy hand straight for my chest. "Well, look at this perfect little toy..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the man moved. He was a blur of black leather! "CRACK!" The sickening sound of bone shattering echoed loud.

The man's huge hand crushed the thug's wrist like a vise, and in the same fluid motion, he kicked him to the floor. His heavy black combat boot stomped down on the thug's knee, grinding it backward!

"AGGHHH!!!" The pig-like slaughterhouse screams filled the room as the leg snapped at a grotesque angle. The man didn't even glance at the trash rolling in agony. He coldly waved his hand at his brothers behind him. "Shut him up. Give him a taste of the floor."

The muscular subordinates instantly understood. Grinning maliciously, they grabbed a filthy, ash-covered bar rag soaked in stale beer and violently shoved it into the screaming thug's mouth, choking off his cries.

Then, they grabbed a bucket of rancid mop water and dumped it entirely over his head. The sickening stench of garbage filled the air instantly. The other thug was so terrified he crawled away on his hands and knees.

The man acted like nothing had happened. He turned back, shrugged off his heavy leather cut—still warm from his body and radiating danger—and wrapped it domineeringly around my shoulders.

He leaned down, his scorching breath hitting my ear, his deep voice carrying unquestionable, violent possessiveness. "Deal. From now on, you're mine."