As the Sargent-at-Arms for the Deathstalkers MC, my days are filled with constant craziness and crap. But I like it. It's who I am. And what I'm all about.

I wasn't ready to be president of an MC like Iron Tzars, but my father left me little choice. I grew up in the club. At 29, most of the men still see me as no more than a kid. But my daddy taught me well. I tolerate no disloyalty or disrespect and always put the club first. Then I met Iris. She's a heap of trouble in a small package and she pings my radar from the moment I first lay eyes on her. I know she's going to be mine—which means she has to trust me to take care of her. But Iris trusts no one when it comes to her sister. With both of them in danger, I now have to make a decision.

Sometimes you need to crash a funeral to experience happiness. At least Kissimmee Singh, aerial artist for Singh Circus, the most sought-after traveling circus of all time, keeps telling herself that’s why she crashes funerals. In reality, she’s lost and confused. Sometimes it’s nice to experience other people’s grief and be reminded that life isn’t as bad as it could be.

Morris has always dedicated himself to his brothers in the MC, choosing the freedom of the open road over the monotony of family life. But a chance encounter with a single mother on the run causes his protective alpha instincts to kick into overdrive.

There's an animal in me that I keep hidden. Beth calls to him. She tempts the monster and lures him to the surface. I'm obsessed with her. I can't stay away, even when doing so puts my entire club in danger. Her blood is on my hands. I formed her to fit only me. I was her first and if I have to kill everyone in our way. So be it. I will be her last. She is mine.