Page 1 of Wraith’s Betrayal

CHAPTER 1

WRAITH

The Pike Creek Riders clubhouse hummed with Tuesday afternoon chaos—Phoenix arguing with Tank about last night's game, Viper bent over paperwork at the church table, the familiar soundtrack of brotherhood that had become my world five years ago. I sat at the bar, laptop open, tracking shipment schedules that kept our legitimate transport business running smooth.

Normal Tuesday. Normal chaos. Normal everything until the door opened and my entire existence shifted.

She stood in the doorway like she'd materialized from some fever dream I'd never admitted having. Curves that begged for hands—my hands specifically—dark hair tumbling past shoulders in waves that would look perfect spread across my pillow. But those eyes nailed me to my barstool. Brown with amber threads that somehow saw straight through me, past the Secretary patch, past the quiet computer guy reputation, right down to the parts of myself I kept locked away.

The room narrowed to just her. My pulse hammered so hard my vision blurred at the edges, Phoenix's voice fading to distant static. Just her and me and this pull that stretched across twenty feet of smoky air like an invisible wire.

Her lips parted, chest rising with a sharp breath. She recognized it too—this instant, insane connection. Like my soul had been waiting thirty-seven years to find its match and suddenly, on a random Tuesday in our shitty clubhouse, there she was.

My hands clenched on the laptop keyboard, already imagining touching her. Tracing those dangerous curves barely contained in jeans and a tank top that clung in ways that made my mouth go dry. Tangling in that hair while I discovered what sounds she'd make when I⁠—

"Raven? What the hell are you doing here?"

Blade's voice shattered the moment like a sledgehammer through glass.

My brother—my best friend, my military brother who'd saved my ass in more bar fights than I could count—crossed the clubhouse in three strides, pulling the goddess into a hug that made my chest burn with something primitive and possessive.

No. No fucking way.

"Surprise," she said against his shoulder, but her gaze found mine over his back. That same pull tightened between us, now tinged with the copper taste of doom.

This was Blade's sister. The sister he'd mentioned exactly twice in five years, both times with protective fury that suggested anyone who looked at her wrong would end up in pieces.

"Thought you were in Denver." Blade pulled back, studying her with that suspicious big brother look.

"Lost my job. And my apartment. Long story." She shifted, unconsciously angling toward me even while talking to Blade. "Figured I'd visit my brother for a few days while I figure things out."

"Shit, Rave. Why didn't you call?"

"Because you would've gone all overprotective psycho and tried to fix everything."

Blade's expression said that was exactly what he would've done. "Come meet the guys. But remember what I told you⁠—"

"Touch any of them and you'll remove body parts. Yeah, I remember your charming brotherly threats."

She had bite. Sass under all those dangerous curves. My laptop keys blurred as I tried focusing on anything except how her voice made my cock stir with interest I had no business feeling.

"Brothers," Blade called out, commanding immediate attention. "This is my sister, Raven."

The room went quiet. Phoenix actually dropped his pool cue. Tank's beer stopped halfway to his mouth. Even Viper looked up from his paperwork with raised eyebrows.

Because Blade Beckett having a sister was news. Having a sister who looked like temptation poured into denim was a fucking catastrophe.

"Raven, this is Viper, our president." Blade went through introductions while I sat frozen at the bar, praying he'd somehow forget I existed. "Phoenix, our enforcer. Tank, muscle with a brain occasionally. And that's Wraith, secretary and resident computer genius."

Her attention landed on me with physical weight. "Wraith?"

"Cooper." My voice came out rougher than intended. "Wraith Cooper."

"Raven Beckett." She moved closer, vanilla and jasmine invading the testosterone-soaked air. "Secretary? Interesting title for an MC."

"Someone has to keep these idiots organized." The words emerged steadier than my racing pulse suggested. "Track shipments, maintain legitimate paperwork, keep us out of federal prison."

"Smart." That single word carried appreciation that went straight to my cock. "Brain over brawn?"