{"id":257231,"date":"2026-07-13T15:23:16","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T12:23:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/crush-royal-bastards-mc-lexington-ky-4-quinn-slater\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T15:23:16","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T12:23:16","slug":"crush-royal-bastards-mc-lexington-ky-4-quinn-slater","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/crush-royal-bastards-mc-lexington-ky-4-quinn-slater\/","title":{"rendered":"Crush Royal Bastards MC Lexington KY 4 – Quinn Slater"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\u201cI was trained. Doesn\u2019t matter. You\u2019re lucky you made it through the storm.\u201d He looked at the small window, where snow drifted in thick, silent bands. \u201cYou wouldn\u2019t have, if you\u2019d kept going.\u201d I remembered the storm, the pain, the way the world had bent sideways, and the trees seemed to lean in and whisper. I remembered, too, the voices of men, the certainty that they hunted not just for me, but for a lesson to teach the rest.<\/p>\n

The thought made my hands fist in the straw. He noticed, of course. He noticed everything. \u201cYou running from someone?\u201d I nodded. \u201cThey want me back. To punish, or to wed. I\u2019m not sure which is worse.\u201d He snorted, not unkindly. \u201cAlways the same, isn\u2019t it?\u201d He drew a breath, let it out slowly. \u201cI won\u2019t let them find you. Not unless you want to be found.\u201d<\/p>\n

This, more than anything, made the tears prick behind my eyes. I didn\u2019t want to cry. I had not cried, not once, since I\u2019d left the house and crossed into the woods. I wouldn\u2019t start now. I busied myself with the pallet, trying to shift my weight without wincing. He reached into a pouch at his side, withdrew a small, flat packet, tore it open with his teeth, and produced a strip of sticky fabric, like a plaster but thinner, cleaner. He pressed it to my ankle, his fingers steady and sure, and smoothed it into place.<\/p>\n

I watched his hands, the veins that ran beneath the skin, the lines inked on the backs of his knuckles, one hand marked with a cross, the other with a word that meant nothing to me. The hands were strong, but not cruel. They reminded me, oddly, of Father\u2019s hands when he was working in the field, hands that had killed, but also planted, healed, and forgiven. \u201cYou need to eat,\u201d he said, standing.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s not much, but I found some jerky. It\u2019s safe. Better than nothing.\u201d He pulled a flat package from another pocket, tore it open, and offered a strip of brown meat. It smelled of salt and smoke, and something sweet I didn\u2019t recognize. I took it, more to please him than from hunger. I chewed, and the flavor exploded in my mouth, sharp and alive. It was so unlike the food I knew that for a moment, I did not know if I liked it or hated it.<\/p>\n

But I swallowed, and then reached for another. He smiled again, this time a full smile, and it was not ugly at all. \u201cWhat are you?\u201d I said, the words out before I could bite them back. He considered, then tilted his head, as if measuring me. \u201cWhat do you think I am?\u201d A witch.<\/p>\n

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Quinn Slater. The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.<\/p>\n

Book Cover by Crimson Syn OceanofPDF.com Contents Royal Bastards Code RBMC Lexington, KY Chapter Officers 1. Moab 2. Scarlette 3. Moab 4. Scarlette 5. Moab 6. Scarlette 7. Moab 8. Scarlette 9. Scarlette 10. Moab 11. Scarlette 12. Moab 13. Scarlette 14. Moab 15. Scarlette 16. Moab 17. Scarlette About Quinn Slater Also by OceanofPDF.com Royal Bastards Code ROYAL BASTARDS CODE PROTECT: The club and your brothers come before anything else, and must be protected at all costs.<\/p>\n

CLUB is FAMILY. RESPECT: Earn it & Give it. Respect club law. Respect the patch. Respect your brothers. Disrespect a member and there will be hell to pay. HONOR: Being patched in is an honor, not a right. Your colors are sacred, not to be left alone, and NEVER let them touch the ground.<\/p>\n

OL\u2019 LADIES: Never disrespect a member\u2019s or brother\u2019s Ol\u2019Lady. PERIOD. CHURCH is MANDATORY. LOYALTY: Takes precedence over all, including well-being. HONESTY: Never LIE, CHEAT, or STEAL from another member or the club. TERRITORY: You are to respect your brother\u2019s property and follow their Chapter\u2019s club rules. TRUST: Years to earn it…seconds to lose it. NEVER RIDE OFF: Brothers do not abandon their family. OceanofPDF.com RBMC Lexington, KY Chapter Officers President – Vin Reed VP \u2013 Jerimiah “Canon” Carter Sergeant at Arms \u2013 Dak “Moab” Williams Road Captain \u2013 Johnny “Shivs” DeMarco Treasurer \u2013 Stan “Bolo” Carpenter Tail-Gunner \u2013 Cal “Bump” Killion Secretary \u2013 Drake “Pyro” Ares Enforcer \u2013 Stevie “Toolie” Harper Prospects: Daniel “Torch” Clark Al “Axel” Martin OceanofPDF.com T Moab he engine\u2019s howl was the only voice that made sense tonight.<\/p>\n

Four cylinders and forty years of history, rasping through cracked baffles and bleeding out behind me, loud enough to strip the nonsense right out of my skull. I leaned harder into the curve, knees tight against the tank, felt the edges of the footpegs scoring their own gospel into the tarmac. Pine trees leaned in overhead, their branches crowding the dusk, and I split the difference down the center line, one headlight carving up the twilight like a bone saw.<\/p>\n

This was the only place I didn\u2019t feel like prey, moving too fast for the old ghosts to hitch a ride. The wind lifted sweat and cigarette stink off my skin. That and a touch of engine oil. I\u2019d bled on these bars more times than I cared to remember, and the scars across my knuckles pressed white against the grips.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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