(Underland MC)
Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense
Date Published: August 16, 2024
Cheshire is perfect for fans of suspense and forbidden love stories.
Eliza — Being the daughter of the sheriff might sound nice to most people.
But they donāt know what my father is truly like. All they see is the
mask he wears. The congenial smile, the good deeds, and the way he puts
others before himself. Itās all an act. Behind closed doors,
heās a monster. One I canāt seem to escape. Until Iāve
finally had enough⦠my daring attempt to leave home lands me in the
arms of the VP of the Underland MC⦠and something tells me
thereās no safer place to be.
Cheshire — As the VP of the Underland MC, and former military, Iām
no stranger to dangerous situations. When my club discovers the local
sheriff is corrupting the town of Warren, I know we need to step in. Human
trafficking and abuse are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the
sheriff and his henchmen. But the one thing I never expected to find was
love — especially with the sheriffās innocent daughter. Iāll
make sure to take the bastard down, not only for the town of Warren, but for
Eliza. I never want to see fear in her eyes again.
Are you ready for this gripping tale of danger and desire?
EXCERPT
Eliza
The room swam in a haze of fear and broken glass. Sheriff Holmesā
face twisted into an ugly snarl, eyes burning with rage. He clenched his
fists, knuckles turning white. This wasnāt anything new for my father.
Just another day in my miserable life.
āStand up,ā he barked, voice like ice. I forced myself to my
feet, trembling like a leaf, tears streaming down my face.
āPlease donāt,ā I whispered, but my words fell on deaf
ears.
āShut up!ā His fist collided with my cheekbone, the force
sending me sprawling back to the floor. The air rushed from my lungs as if
Iād been sucker punched. Pain exploded through my skull.
This is it. This is how I die.
āGet up,ā he spat again, reveling in the torment he inflicted.
The darkness in his eyes chilled me to the core. I scrambled to my feet,
legs shaking, praying for some kind of reprieve.
āLook at you,ā he sneered, grabbing a fistful of my hair and
yanking me closer. āPathetic.ā
āPlease, stop,ā I whimpered, too weak to resist his iron grip.
In that moment, I knew I was nothing to him — just another thing to control
and bend to his will. Heād never think of me as a daughter, as family.
I wasnāt sure a monster like him was capable of such a thing.
āDid you think Iād let you get away with it? That I
wouldnāt find out?ā He punctuated his words with a vicious blow
to my stomach, causing bile to rise in my throat.
Canāt breathe. Canāt fight back. Just need to survive. I curled
up to protect my already battered body.
āLearn your place,ā he hissed as he landed one final punch,
then turned to leave, his heavy footsteps echoing in my ears.
I didnāt know what Iād done to make him so angry this time. It
could have been anything. Maybe Iād put something in the wrong place.
I didnāt think Iād ruined any of his clothes when Iād done
the laundry. No matter how hard I thought about it, I had no idea what
Iād done.
Blood dripped down my face, each droplet a painful reminder of the violent
flurry that had just unfolded. I stared at the cracked mirror on the wall,
catching glimpses of my battered reflection between the jagged lines. The
pain was unbearable, but what hurt more was the feeling of utter
helplessness.
āIs this it?ā I whispered to myself, choking back tears.
āIs this all my life will ever be?ā
My eyes scanned the room, taking in the shattered glass and twisted
remnants of what had once been my sanctuary. How could I ever feel safe
again, knowing that heād violated every inch of this space?
I pressed my hand against my bruised ribs, wincing at the sharp stab of
pain. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a world where the torture
ceased, where I could finally be free from his sadistic grip.
āMaybe death would be better,ā I admitted, my voice barely
audible. āAt least then, I wouldnāt have to live in
fear.ā
The thought sent shivers down my spine, but also brought an odd sense of
comfort. In death, there would be peace. No more beatings, no more
humiliation, no more heart-pounding terror that gripped me every time he
approached. Even if there was nothing but a sea of darkness on the other
side, it would be preferable to this.
āEliza,ā my fatherās voice cut through my thoughts, and I
realized he was standing in my doorway again. āDonāt think
Iām done with you. If you ever try to defy me again, I wonāt
hesitate to end your miserable existence.ā
Fear slithered its way into my throat, choking me as I struggled to find my
voice. āYes, sir,ā I managed to whisper, quivering under the
weight of his gaze. I couldnāt ask how Iād defied him. Doing so
would only spark his anger again.
āRemember that.ā With one last chilling glare, he slammed the
door behind him, leaving me to wallow in my own despair.
Trembling, I realized that even the thought of death couldnāt save
me. The fear of my father, of Sheriff Holmes, held me captive in a prison
more terrifying than any physical cage.
āDeath or life,ā I whispered into the void. āEither way,
Iām trapped.ā
My heart pounded, and my hands shook. I didnāt even remember my
mother anymore. Sheād died so long ago. I thought we were happier
then, but I didnāt know for sure. Had my father always been a
monster?
āNo escape.ā If I tried⦠I dragged myself up, wincing.
Bruised, battered, weak. Thatās what I saw when I looked in the
mirror. At times like this, I hated myself. If I were strong, would I be
able to stand up to him? Or if I were more cunning, could I escape?
āDamn him,ā I muttered, the words barely escaping my swollen
lips.
The sound of motorcycles roared in the distance. I knew theyād belong
to the local motorcycle club. Iād seen them at a distance many
times.
A light tap on my window drew me over to it. āWhoās
there?ā
I kept my voice low, not wanting to draw my fatherās attention again.
āItās Maria from next door.ā
āMaria,ā I breathed, relief washing over me for a brief moment.
We werenāt exactly close, but sheād noticed my wounds before and
done her best to help. Although she too feared my father.
āOpen the window,ā she urged.
āCanāt be seen together,ā I reminded her, my gaze darting
around the room in panic. āHeāll hurt us both. If he thinks
youāre helping meā¦ā
āEliza, listen,ā she said urgently. āIāve found
help. The Underland MC. I think if you can get to them, theyāll
protect you.ā
āProtect me?ā I scoffed, disbelief coloring my tone.
āFrom Sheriff Holmes? No one can do that. It would be different if my
father were anyone else.ā
āThey can,ā Maria insisted. āThose men arenāt
scared of anyone. I donāt have proof, but I think theyāre
responsible for something big that went down a few weeks ago.ā
āHelp from bikers?ā I questioned, my mind racing. āHow
can I trust them?ā
āThey look big and scary, but they do a lot of good around town. And
from what Iāve heard, theyāre all ex-military,ā she said.
āTheyāre your only shot, Eliza.ā
āAll right, but how?ā I asked.
āTonight. If you can get away, I can take you to them. I was behind
one of them at the grocery store earlier. Heard him on the phone talking
about meeting everyone at a diner in town.ā
āIāll try.ā I didnāt want to think of the
consequences if my father caught me. He might actually kill me.
About the Author
Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.
When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde’s website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
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Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress
