Monster. Demon. The one you don't make eye contact with. The one you cross the street to avoid. The one mothers pull their children away from.
They aren't wrong.
I was built in the dark — by a father who made me into something ugly before I was old enough to understand what was happening to me. By a system that passed me around until I stopped expecting anything from it. By years of violence that taught me one truth above all the only thing standing between you and the worst this world offers is the willingness to be worse.
I've been willing.
I don't apologize for it.
But then I wake up in a medical room with machines keeping me breathing, my club waiting outside the door, and something I haven't felt since I was six years old sitting heavy in my chest.
A reason.
Her name is Hannah.
I don't know her yet when I wake up. I only know she exists the way you know a storm is coming — in the pressure, in the shift, in the specific way the air changes before everything breaks open.
I find her at a motel parking lot at the edge of nowhere, watching over a brother who is destroying himself one hit at a time. She sleeps in a chair because the bed belongs to him. She counts out crumpled bills to a motel manager with the quiet dignity of someone who has been doing hard things alone for so long she's stopped noticing how hard they are.
I should keep moving.
I have a Prophet to hunt, a mission to finish, a club counting on me to do what I do and come back in one piece.
Instead I stay.
I watch her walk home in the dark and I make sure nothing follows her there. I stand outside her window at night and tell myself it's surveillance. I kill three men behind a dumpster for saying her name wrong and don't lose a minute of sleep over it.
I don't know what this is.
I've never felt anything like it.
I only know that she looks at the shadows like she's waiting for something, and every time she gets close to the dark where I'm standing, her shoulders drop instead of tense.
Like she already knows I'm safe for her, even though I am anything but safe.
She sees me before I'm ready to be seen.
She says she's not afraid of me, and the worst part is — I believe her.
I don't know how to be soft. I don't know how to be gentle. I don't know how to be the kind of man who deserves what she's offering just by looking at me the way she does.
But I know how to protect what's mine.
And Hannah — with her flour-dusted hands and her shaking courage and her impossible trust in a man who lives in the dark —
She's mine.
Even if I have to spend the rest of my life learning to deserve it.
Sons of Hell Demon is a dark, slow-burn MC romance featuring a deeply traumatized hero, a heroine who refuses to flinch, found family, explicit content, and an HEA... and a little light stalking. This is Book Two in the Sons of Hell MC series and follows Book Reaper. All books can be read as a standalone but it makes more sense if you read it all the way through.