Dutch

Makari
I grew up around the outlaw world of motorcycle clubs, distancing myself after losing my brother in a brutal club war. Now thrown back into a world I wanted to leave behind with no option left, I called Dutch-hating that I needed him.
He was the kind of man who commanded the room-every glance exuding heat and danger that was impossible to ignore. And I should be afraid of him.
But Dutch pulled me in, breaking through my defenses in ways I couldn't explain. I wanted to resist him. God knows I needed to. Because falling for a man like Dutch? That would destroy me faster than any enemies breathing down my neck.

Dutch
Makari drove me crazy. She was stubborn, too reckless for her own good, and walking straight into a fire she didn't understand. I should walk away. Hell, I wanted to walk away.
But I couldn't.
She got under my skin in ways no one else ever could, but love? That wasn't on the table. It never would be.
I had my own demons to wrestle with. My crew challenged me about getting distracted. I was here to protect her-nothing more. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.
Protecting Makari wasn't just about keeping her safe anymore. It was about not losing the one thing I never thought I'd care enough to fight for.