Taming The Reaper: My Vengeful Comeback

BETHANY POV:

Clang.

I heard the heavy, metallic sound of a steel-toed motorcycle boot kicking a discarded whiskey bottle, and it sent a sharp, jarring echo through the dimly lit room.

Knox had clearly consumed more than his fair share of bourbon at the clubhouse bar tonight. Startled by the sudden noise and the completely unexpected sight before him, his long legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees with a heavy thud against the scarred floorboards. He blinked his wolfish, gray-blue eyes, staring blankly at me as I sat perfectly upright on the edge of his unmade bed. For a fleeting second, he seriously doubted if the alcohol had completely fried his brain.

Otherwise, how in the hell could he be seeing me-Bethany Gibbs, the woman who was supposed to be his cousin's new Old Lady-sitting right here in his own chaotic bedroom?

I knew I was breathtaking. My face was a flawless canvas of pale skin and striking features, made even more radiant by the traditional white leather jacket and delicate lace dress I wore for the Redwood Reapers' claiming ceremony. But right now, my delicate brows were furrowed in absolute shock, my expression a mix of confusion and dawning horror.

I stood up abruptly, my voice cutting through the stale air like a whip. "Knox Woodward? Why are you here?"

My shock was entirely genuine. For a moment, I wondered if he had somehow stumbled into the wrong room in his drunken stupor. But I looked around. No, this was definitely his space. The walls were adorned with vintage motorcycle parts, and the scent of motor oil, stale beer, and cheap cigarettes was unmistakably his. It was a far cry from Jarrett's pristine, overly curated suite.

Knox dusted off his denim jeans and slowly pushed himself up from the floor. He stood tall, his massive frame casting a long, intimidating shadow in the dim light. But as soon as he spoke, that intimidating aura vanished into a lazy, mocking drawl.

"Well, sweetheart," he slurred slightly, leaning against the doorframe. "Seeing as this is my room, I think the better question is... why aren't you in Jarrett's bed on your claiming night? Don't tell me you got drunk and lost your way?"

I didn't say a word. My mind was spinning, piecing together the fragments of a nightmare I thought I had escaped.

Before I could formulate a response, the bedroom door was pushed open in a frantic rush. Ruby, one of the club's regular girls who had been assigned to assist me tonight, stumbled in. Her face was a mask of exaggerated panic, but my sharp eyes caught the flicker of guilt in her gaze.

"Oh my god! Bethany! What are you doing in here?" Ruby gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in a theatrical display of shock. "This is a disaster! There was a mix-up during the escort after the ceremony! Kia... Kia went to Jarrett's room!"

Ruby kept wailing about the "terrible mistake," but she didn't make a single move to help me leave or rectify the situation.

A cold, hard realization settled in my chest. This was a setup. They were stalling, waiting for the deed to be done, for Jarrett and Kia to consummate their betrayal so that the club would have no choice but to accept it as a finalized claim.

The memories of my past life hit me with the force of a freight train. In that timeline, this exact scenario had played out. Before the ceremony, my stepsister, Kia, had tearfully offered me a cup of tea. I had drunk it, only to feel dizzy and disoriented. I had woken up in the wrong hallway, but realizing the mistake, I had fought my way back to Jarrett's room, preventing Kia from taking my place.

But what had that victory brought me?

Jarrett had been cold and distant on our claiming night. I had convinced myself he was just a stoic, traditional man. For the next decade, I had played the role of the perfect MC Old Lady. I managed the club's legitimate businesses, kept the books clean, and endured the constant, biting criticisms of my mother-in-law, Meredith, who constantly shamed me for failing to produce an heir.

It wasn't until the very end that I discovered the sickening truth. I had caught Jarrett and Kia in bed together. They had been carrying on an affair for years. And the reason I couldn't get pregnant? Jarrett had been secretly slipping birth control and abortifacients into my daily vitamins. He had never wanted a child with me; he had been saving that privilege for Kia.

When they finally forced me out of the club, stripping me of my assets and my dignity, Kia had stood over me, a triumphant smirk on her face."It doesn't matter that you have the Gibbs name, Bethany. The throne of this club was always meant to be mine."

The sheer agony of that betrayal burned in my veins, but this time, it wasn't accompanied by tears. It was fueled by a glacial, unyielding rage. God had given me a second chance, a chance to rewrite the script. If they wanted to play dirty, I would burn their entire game to the ground.

"Since there's been a mix-up," Knox said, his voice laced with lazy amusement, breaking me from my thoughts, "why don't you just go swap back? It's not that complicated."

As he spoke, I had already gathered the skirts of my lace dress, my eyes flashing with a dangerous, cold fire. I walked past Ruby without a second glance and headed straight for the door.

Knox blinked, surprised by the sheer force of my presence. I looked like a woman marching to war.

"Ruby," I said, my voice dripping with ice. "You can stop acting now."

Ruby froze, her fake tears drying up instantly. "Bethany, wait! Where are you going? You can't go to Jarrett's room now, it's too late!"

"I'm not going to Jarrett's room," I replied, my gaze shifting to Knox. "You. Take me to Eleanor's estate. Now."

Knox pointed a thick finger at his own chest, genuinely bewildered. "Me? You're ordering me around?"

"Unless you want to be implicated in this treason against the club's matriarch," I stated coldly, "you will take me to her. Lead the way, Reaper."

KNOX POV:

I stood there for a solid ten seconds, just staring at her. Bethany Gibbs. The untouchable princess of the Gibbs family, the woman who had been groomed since birth to sit beside the golden boy of the Redwood Reapers.

I had expected tears. I had expected hysterics. I had fully prepared myself to watch her crumble into a weeping mess on my dirty floor, begging me to help her fix this "terrible mistake."

But there was no panic in her eyes. There was only a cold, terrifying resolve that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She wasn't asking for a favor; she was issuing a command. And for some insane reason, I found myself wanting to obey.

"Alright, princess," I muttered, grabbing my leather cut from the back of a chair and shrugging it on. "But don't say I didn't warn you. Waking up the old dragon at this hour is a death wish."

She didn't flinch. "I'll take my chances."

I led her out of my room and down the long, dimly lit corridors of the clubhouse. The main bar was still raging downstairs, the muffled thumping of heavy metal bass vibrating through the floorboards. A few patched members and prospects loitered in the halls, and every single one of them stopped dead in their tracks when they saw us.

It was a sight that defied all MC logic. Me, the unpredictable, violent wild card of the club, walking side-by-side with the pristine, elegant Bethany Gibbs, who was currently wearing the claiming dress meant for my cousin.

She kept her head high, her posture immaculate. She didn't look at any of the gawking men. She moved with a purpose that demanded respect. I found myself walking a little slower, just to watch the way she carried herself. She was a weapon, and someone had just pulled her pin.

We stepped out into the cool California night air, crossing the compound toward the large, fortified estate where my grandmother, Eleanor Woodward, resided. Eleanor was the true power behind the Reapers. My uncle Preston might wear the VP patch, and my father Arthur might be a senior member, but Eleanor held the strings.

The guards at the gate hesitated when they saw us, but a sharp glare from me had them opening the iron doors.

Ten minutes later, the grand foyer of Eleanor's house was fully illuminated. The silence in the room was thick enough to cut with a combat knife.

Eleanor sat in a high-backed leather chair, a silk robe wrapped tightly around her frail but imposing frame. Her sharp, hawk-like eyes darted between me and Bethany. She looked furious at being woken, but her anger was currently a slow-burning ember, waiting for fuel.

"This is an outrage," Eleanor hissed, her voice raspy but commanding. "A complete mockery of our traditions."

Bethany sat on a velvet sofa opposite the matriarch. She had managed to produce a single, perfect tear that tracked slowly down her pale cheek. It was a masterclass in manipulation. I stood in the corner, arms crossed, watching the performance with a mix of awe and amusement. She was playing the victim flawlessly, yet beneath the surface, I could see the shark circling.

My parents, Arthur and Brenda, were the first to arrive, both looking disheveled and confused. My mother shot me a questioning look, which I answered with a shrug. Then came my uncle Preston and his wife, Meredith. Meredith's face was pinched with annoyance, clearly upset that her perfect night had been ruined.

"What is the meaning of this?" Preston demanded, his voice booming. "Why is everyone awake?"

"We are waiting for your son," Eleanor snapped.

Right on cue, the heavy oak doors opened. Jarrett walked in, his face flushed, his clothes slightly rumpled. Clinging to his side was Kia Mason, Bethany's stepsister. Kia looked like a frightened doe, her eyes wide, her hair perfectly messy. Jarrett had his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

The moment they stepped into the light, the truth of the situation became undeniable.

"Well," Eleanor said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "It seems the golden boy has finally arrived. With his... companion."

Jarrett swallowed hard, his eyes darting to Bethany, then to Eleanor. "Grandmother, I can explain. It was a mistake... the girls were taken to the wrong rooms."

Kia immediately burst into tears, burying her face in Jarrett's chest. "It's all my fault! I was so confused, I didn't know where I was going! Please don't blame Jarrett!"

I scoffed loudly from my corner. "Right. Because a patched VP doesn't know who is in his own bed. Give me a break."

Jarrett shot me a murderous glare, but I just offered him a mocking salute. The tension in the room was a powder keg, and I couldn't wait to see who struck the match.

BETHANY POV:

The sight of Kia cowering against Jarrett, playing the fragile, innocent victim, made my blood boil. It was the exact same performance she had used for years in my past life to justify her treachery. And Jarrett, standing there like a noble knight defending his true love, was the ultimate hypocrite.

I slowly stood up from the velvet sofa. The room fell dead silent. Every eye was on me. I took a step forward, my movements deliberate and measured. I looked frail, a wronged woman on the verge of collapse.

"A mistake?" I echoed, my voice trembling just enough to sell the heartbreak. "You call this a mistake, Kia?"

Kia peeked out from Jarrett's embrace, her eyes wide and pleading. "Sister, please... I didn't mean to. I love him. We couldn't help it."

I closed the distance between us. Jarrett puffed out his chest, ready to shield her from my words, but he wasn't prepared for my actions.

I raised my hand and swung with every ounce of strength I possessed.

*Smack!*

The sound of my palm connecting with Kia's cheek echoed like a gunshot in the grand foyer. Kia shrieked, stumbling backward out of Jarrett's arms, her hand flying to her rapidly reddening face. She looked at me in absolute, unadulterated shock. The fragile act was momentarily shattered by genuine disbelief.

"You have the audacity to call me sister?" I hissed, my voice dropping the pretense of sorrow, replacing it with pure venom.

"Bethany! Have you lost your mind?!" Jarrett roared. He stepped forward, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing with fury. "How dare you touch her!"

He reached out to grab my arm, but before his fingers could even brush my sleeve, I pivoted and delivered a second, even harder slap directly across his jaw.

*Crack!*

The entire room gasped. My uncle-in-law, Preston, half-stood from his chair. Meredith let out a strangled cry. Striking a patched member-especially the Vice President-was a severe violation of club rules. It was an act of unthinkable disrespect.

Jarrett's head snapped to the side. He slowly turned back to face me, his eyes dark with a violent storm. For a second, I thought he might actually hit me back. But I stood my ground, my chin raised, daring him to try.

"And that," I said, my voice ringing clear and steady, "is for insulting my family's honor. You made a pact with the Gibbs family, Jarrett. You broke it for a cheap thrill."

"Enough!" Eleanor's voice cracked like thunder, freezing Jarrett in his tracks. She slammed her cane against the marble floor. "Jarrett, step back. You have disgraced this family enough for one night."

Jarrett gritted his teeth, his jaw ticking, but he obeyed, stepping back and pulling a sobbing Kia behind him.

Meredith, desperate to salvage her son's political future within the club, rushed forward. She grabbed my hands, her face twisted into a mask of fake sympathy.

"Bethany, my dear, please calm down," Meredith pleaded, her eyes darting nervously to Eleanor. "We know you are hurting. This is a terrible misunderstanding. But the pact between our families is too important to throw away over a momentary lapse in judgment."

She took a deep breath, her eyes hardening as she looked at Kia with utter disdain. "Jarrett made a mistake. But he is the VP, and he needs a strong Old Lady. You are that woman, Bethany. As for Kia... well, since the damage is done, she can stay. She can be his Sweetbutt. But you will be his wife."

The word *Sweetbutt* hung in the air like a foul odor. It was the lowest rank a woman could hold in the MC world-a disposable plaything, devoid of respect or rights. Kia's sobbing hitched, her face draining of color. This was not the glorious romance she had envisioned.

But Meredith's offer wasn't a punishment for Kia; it was an insult to me. She was asking me to accept a shared bed, to swallow my pride and accept a cheating husband just to maintain their political alliance.

I pulled my hands out of Meredith's grasp, a cold, mocking smile touching my lips.

"A Sweetbutt?" I laughed softly, the sound devoid of any warmth. "You think I would accept a marriage built on a foundation of trash? You think the Gibbs family honor can be bought with a shared bed?"

I turned my gaze away from the horrifyingly arrogant Meredith and let my eyes sweep across the room. They landed on the dark corner where Knox was leaning against the wall, watching me with a predatory intensity.

"The pact stated that a Gibbs daughter would marry a Woodward of the main bloodline," I said, my voice echoing in the silent room. "Jarrett has forfeited his right. But he isn't the only Woodward in this room."