Tattooed By The Dangerous Biker King

Haley POV:

"For being rude! For being ungrateful!" My mother jabbed a finger toward the phone on the hall table. "You will call him, and you will make this right, or so help me God, I will call him myself and apologize on your behalf. Do you want that? Do you want your mother begging for your forgiveness?"

The threat hit me like a physical blow.

My shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of me, leaving only exhaustion and a hollow ache in my chest.

"Fine," I whispered. "I'll call him."

I walked past my mother, not meeting her eyes, and trudged up the stairs to my room. I closed the door.

I buried my face in my hands. I'd just endured the kind of pressure at the clinic that felt like a gun to my head, and now I came home to face this. I was trapped. Work, family, the expectations of everyone around me—they were all chains binding me.

The next morning, the drive to the clinic was a blur. My mind was numb, stuck on a loop of Warren's "good girl" and my mother's triumphant smile. I felt like a puppet, my strings being pulled by everyone around me.

When I walked into the clinic, my phone buzzed. A text from Kierra.

More feds today. The recovery wing is locked down tight. Be careful.

I sighed and headed for the elevator. The recovery wing was even more tense than the day before. The club members at the end of the hall were different—bigger, meaner, carrying heavier guns. They checked my clinic ID badge three times before letting me through.

I pushed open the door to Room 3 and stopped.

Dr. Arthur Reynolds, the clinic doctor, was standing by the bed, whispering urgently with Elvis Knight.

Knight was in the same leather cut, but today he looked even more on edge. His hands were clasped behind his back, the knuckles white. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle was jumping in his cheek.

They both looked up as I entered.

I froze in the doorway. The air in the room felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension. Dr.Reynolds looked nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Knight just looked dangerous.

"Nurse Parker," Dr. Reynolds said, clearing his throat. "Prez was just reviewing the patient's progress."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I walked over to the monitors, keeping my eyes on the screens. I could feel Knight's gaze on me, heavy and assessing. It was the same feeling I had gotten in the hallway yesterday—like being caught in a searchlight.

"The medication schedule needs to be adjusted," Knight said, his voice low. "He's too sedated. I need him lucid by 1800 hours."

"Prez, if we reduce the sedation, his pain levels will be—" Dr. Reynolds started.

"I am aware of the risks, Doctor," Knight cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Adjust the dosage. That is an order."

Dr. Reynolds swallowed hard. "Yes, Prez."

Knight turned and walked toward the door. As he passed me, he stopped. He was close enough that I could smell him again—cedar, gunpowder, and something distinctly male. My pulse skipped a beat.

He looked down at me. His ice-blue eyes were unreadable, but there was an intensity in them that made my breath catch.

"Watch your back, Nurse," he said quietly. "The walls have ears."

Then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and I let out a shaky breath.

What did that mean? I looked around the room, suddenly paranoid. The walls have ears? Was he warning me about something? Or someone?

I turned back to the bed. Prospect Lancaster was watching me, his eyes clearer than they had been the night before.

"We all trust Prez," Lancaster rasped, his voice weak. "He's... decisive. You just do your job, and he'll handle the rest. Please, be careful. This world... it isn't for outsiders."

I stared at him, confused, but Lancaster had already closed his eyes, his breath evening out as sleep reclaimed him.

I stood there for a long moment, my mind racing.

Standing in this room with a wounded club member and a cryptic warning from a terrifying Prez, I realized I might be drawing closer to something far more dangerous than my stubborn mother and that ill-mannered Warren Hicks.