Born to Ride (Hell's Tribe MC Series) [Book 4]

Prologue: Chaos

Hello everyone, it feels like its been forever since I've posted on here. I am so excited to bring you the fourth installment in the Hell's Tribe MC series. As always, I hope you enjoy it just as much, if not more than the book before it. Please share your thoughts in the comments and be sure to vote! Follow me on Instagram @slowridebook for teasers, updates, and all information regarding book 4. Thank you all for the continued support for the last few years, I am truly grateful for every single one of you.

So, without further ado, happy reading.

xoxoxox

Mary.

~Nora~

I was frozen, stuck in place with a crippling fear that had slowed my breathing. I couldn't move my hands to reach for my phone, my fingers to dial, my legs to run, or my mouth to scream for my sons to get back in the car. My front door was kicked in, windows smashed and garage graffitied with just possibly the most terrifying words I could imagine.

Painted in red were the words See you soon, Angel.

Only one person had ever referred to me as Angel and he was dead—at least he was supposed to be.

I had somehow managed to pull myself together if only for my very confused and terrified children. I had safely refastened them in their car seats and managed to drive to the nearest place I felt I might be safe without getting into an accident. It just so happened that I found myself parked outside the police station, yet I felt anything but safe.

If Rigs was actually somehow alive, the last people I would turn to for help were the police. I had tried that once and it had only made things worse. They picked him up, filed domestic assault charges and kept him for exactly one night. He was back home by the morning after pulling strings with his dirty cop buddies to drop the charges. He had beaten me within an inch of my life that night. I couldn't get out of bed or leave the house for a week. I still had a scar spanning across my forehead from the picture frame he'd bashed across my head. Sometimes, on a bad night, I could still feel the dizziness and burning from that blow, and on really bad nights, I could still hear the sounds of Ethan and Lucas crying as I lay on the floor completely helpless.

"Mommy, what are we doing here?" Lucas asked from the back seat, ending my trip down memory lane hell. "I wanna go back home. I'm tired," he whined.

I let out a breath, knowing I had to come up with something and fast. Lucas might have only been five years old but he was wise beyond his years and he knew when I was lying to him or if something was wrong. I hated the fact that my son had already been forced to grow up after dealing with a man like Rigs as his father, but there was only so much I could do to help him. He was only three when Rigs died, but he remembered certain things about him and it broke my heart to know that he would be apart of Lucas forever. Luckily, Ethan had only been a baby and he had no idea who his daddy was or what he was like. At three years old he had still never asked about him, but that didn't mean that one day I wouldn't have to explain to both my sons the kind of devil the man who fathered them was and what he had done.