Page 1 of Heat (The Royal HArlots MC, Quebec City-Canada #1)

She had a name once. A life. A past she could trace, like a line drawn in the dirt, clear and undeniable. Now, she was a ghost in her own story, forced to exist in a version of reality where she barely recognized herself.

She sat perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the driver’s license on the nightstand. A different name, a different face staring back at her—same bone structure, same wary eyes, but stripped of everything that made her, her .

Her new apartment was nothing like home, just a half-furnished box with beige walls and curtains too thin to make her feel safe.

It smelled stale and was even less appealing; the air was heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

The furniture was impersonal, and the kitchen cabinets were empty except for a single box of cereal and a mug from the gas station down the street.

She hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet. It felt like a commitment she wasn’t ready to make.

Every sound outside made her tense—footsteps in the hall, a car idling too long at the curb. Her old instincts told her to be ready to run, but where could she go? There was no running from this. No way back.

She traced the cover of the new journal she’d picked up, hesitant to open it. A fresh start. That’s what they called it. What was she supposed to write? Day one of pretending this is my life .

Her phone—the cheap burner model they’d given her—buzzed with a text from her handler. Just a check-in. A reminder that she wasn’t alone, not really. But she was. More than she had ever been.

A deep breath. A glance in the mirror. A stranger looked back at her. It was time to figure out who she was going to be.