THE LAWLESS BIKER AND BADASS LAWYER'S REVENGE

PROLOGUE

I have waited. I have plotted. For two long, restless years, every breath I took carried one name-Alexander Stone.

He isn't just a man; he's a monster. The ruthless leader of the Xander Motorcycle Club, feared on the streets and untouchable in the eyes of the law. And on that night-the night that changed everything-Alexander and his gang ran my twin sister, Vera, off the road. They left her there, bleeding and broken, unconscious for hours before help arrived.

I still remember the hospital smell, the beeping machines keeping her alive, the pale look on her face. They said there wasn't enough evidence to charge him. I knew why. Alexander Stone made sure of it. Powerful. Influential. Untouchable. He erased every shred of proof, leaving me with nothing but rage and a sister who hasn't opened her eyes since that night.

For two years, I've nurtured my career, building my skills, climbing every rung of the legal ladder while secretly crafting my revenge. Vera doesn't deserve to lie lifeless while he roams free, laughing, riding, living like nothing ever happened.

So, I did what I had to do. I went undercover. I infiltrated his world one careful step at a time. I earned whispers of trust, gathered scraps of evidence, and pieced them together like a deadly puzzle. But Alexander Stone is no fool. To get close to him, I had to do the unthinkable-swear loyalty to his club.

And then, I crossed a line I never thought I would.

I let him believe I'd fallen for him. I smiled when I wanted to spit in his face. I touched him when all I wanted was to see him in handcuffs. I even let him into my bed, because every ounce of intimacy brought me closer to his secrets.

Every step I take is calculated. Every move is intentional. I will dismantle him piece by piece, strip him of everything he values, and when he finally realizes who I am and what I've done, it will be far too late.

This isn't just revenge.

This is justice-delivered by the only person he never saw coming.

VALERIE

"Objection, My Lord," I said, rising from my seat with deliberate precision, my heels clicking softly against the polished courtroom floor. The room, tense and heavy with anticipation, stilled as I adjusted the lapel of my charcoal-gray suit. "According to the evidence in my custody, my client was not in New York, USA, on the 25th of May at 12:45 a.m., when this alleged crime took place."

The judge's eyes-cold, discerning-shifted to me as I lifted a sealed folder from the table and held it up for the court to see. "I have here, Your Lordship, the verified travel ticket my client used. He was, at that precise time, aboard Flight 762 to London Heathrow, as confirmed by both the airline's manifest and immigration records." I placed the folder on the evidence stand with a crisp, authoritative motion. "I presented it to the