Page 19 of Biker Bride (Hell on Heelz MC)

At night, though, things got wild. Vince would come home late, bringing an intensity that lit up the whole place. Our nights were a frenzy of passion and danger. He pushed every boundary, his hands rough and tender, leaving me breathless and aching for more. Each night was an adrenaline-fueled roller coaster, a dance on the edge of madness that made my blood sing.

But the days were fucking me up. I was running low on my meds, the ones that kept the chaos in my head at bay. I tried to stretch them out, but the pressure of keeping up the act was too much. The constant vigilance, the scrutiny from Margo, and the loneliness were driving me crazy.

One afternoon, after another bullshit encounter with Margo, who took every chance to remind me I wasn't good enough, I snapped. The last straw was when she implied Vincewould soon get bored with me. Her words echoed in my head, a taunting reminder of my precarious situation.

I stormed into Vince's bathroom, slamming the door behind me. The mirrors mocked me, reflecting a woman on the edge. Without thinking, I grabbed a heavy perfume bottle and chucked it at the largest mirror. It shattered spectacularly, shards of glass raining down around me. But I didn’t stop. I smashed every reflective surface in the room, the sound of breaking glass mingling with my ragged breaths. Blood trickled from my hands, but the pain was distant, overshadowed by the storm raging in my mind.

By the time Vince showed up, I was sitting on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, surrounded by the mess I’d made. The towel was soaked with water and blood, and the air was thick with the scent of shattered perfume and desperation. Vince knelt beside me, his face not hiding his concern and shock.

"Sybil, what the fuck happened?" he asked, his voice soft yet urgent.

I looked up at him, my vision blurred by tears. "I'm crazy, Vince. I'm fucking crazy. I can't do this," I whispered, my voice cracking.

Without hesitation, he took my bloodied hands in his. "I know, Sybil. I know. But you're not alone. I'm here," he said, his words cutting through the chaos in my head.

Something in his voice, the sincerity and steadiness, broke through my defenses. I collapsed against him, sobbing uncontrollably. He held me tightly, his arms a safe haven amid my turmoil. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a sliver of safety.

After what felt like an eternity, Vince scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. His touch was tender, his movements careful, like I might shatter like the mirrors. He laid me down gently and tended to my wounds, cleaning the cuts with a gentleness that contrasted with the raunchiness of our usual nights.

When he was done, he lay beside me, his body warm and solid against mine. We fucked that night, but it was different. The raw, primal need was there. But so was a slow, tender, intimacy that took my breath away. Vince's hands traced soothing patterns on my skin, his lips brushing over me with a reverence that made my heart ache.

As we lay entwined in the aftermath, I felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through me. It wasn't just about physical satisfaction. It was connection, trust, and something deeper that I couldn't quite name.

"You're not crazy, Sybil," Vince whispered, his fingers caressing my cheek. "You're strong. And I'm here for you."

I gazed into his eyes, seeing the honesty and determination there.

As we lay there in the dark, my head resting on Vince's chest, I felt an unexpected urge to open up, to let him into the parts of me that I kept hidden. The steady rise and fall of his breath was calming, a rhythm that made the words come easier. I didn't know why, but I felt like I could trust him with my story, with my pain.

"I wasn’t always this way, you know," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "Before all this, I was someone else. I had a different life."

Vince's hand slid up and down my arm, a silent gesture that made it easier to keep talking.

"Back in high school, I was a beauty queen. Pageants were my life. My parents gave up everything to send me all over the country, competing. I was their star, their hope for a better future." I paused, the memories flooding back. "Then, when I was seventeen, I got a big break. A role on a soap opera. It was everything I had ever dreamed of. Fame, money, the spotlight. But it came with a price."

Vince’s hand stilled for a moment before resuming its soothing motion.

"The pressure was unbearable. I was just a kid, and suddenly everyone expected me to be perfect. The fake smiles, the endless rehearsals, the backstabbing... I couldn't handle it. Then, there was this guy on set, thought he could take what he wanted. One night, he tried to rape me. I fought back, grabbed a prop knife, and slit his throat. The studio covered it up and said it was an accident. But something inside me broke that night. I started liking the destruction. The chaos."

Vince's grip on me tightened, his breath warm against my forehead.

“I snapped." My voice wavered, but I forced myself to continue. "They sent me to a hospital. I spent years there, trying to piece myself back together. Making paper stars to pass the time, trying to hold on to some shred of sanity."

I felt Vince's arm tighten around me, a silent gesture of support.

"When I finally got out, I was lost. My dreams were shattered, and I was completely broken. That's when I met Tank. She found me in my darkest hour. Rescued me from eventhinking about prostitution. I was starving, homeless. The biker saw something in me worth saving, even when I couldn’t see it myself."

Vince stayed quiet, but his presence was a comfort.

"Tank brought me into the Hell on Heelz MC, and for the first time, I felt like I belonged somewhere. Being a biker gave me a new purpose, a new identity. It let me be wild, reckless, free from the expectations that had suffocated me for so long. But even now, the past haunts me. The fear that I’ll never be enough, that I’ll always be broken. I use danger to cope, to feel alive. That's why I’m so damn crazy."

Vince's hand moved to my hair, gently brushing it back. His silence spoke volumes, and for once, I didn't need words to feel understood.

"That's why I said yes to your crazy proposal," I admitted. "I need this. I need something to hold on to, something to make me feel something."

Vince's fingers trailed down my cheek, his touch tender. He said nothing, but the way he held me, the way he listened, made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this.

"Thank you for not judging me," I whispered, my eyes closing as I felt a sense of peace settle over me. "For being here."

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