Rise

Rise Tiffany Casper Pinewood Lake Wrath MC Book 1 Copyright © Tiffany Casper 2023 All rights reserved. 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 in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Dedication To my readers that I had hoped to have one day all those years ago, I write these books for y’all! Thank you! Playlist Wake Me Up – Avicii Hold The Line – Toto Just Give Me A Reason – P!nk Crank That (Soulja Boi) – Soulja Boi Still Ridin’ Shotgun – Tyler Wood Can’t You See? – Marshall Tucker Band Fall Into Me – Brantley Gilbert HOLY – Florida Georgia Line Let Her Go – Passenger Turn On The Radio – Reba McEntire Better Today – Coffey Anderson Table of Contents Copyright © Tiffany Casper 2023 Dedication Playlist Table of Contents Prequel Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Epilogue Other Works Connect With Me Prequel Wrath MC The most notorious, dangerous, one-percenter motorcycle club isn’t the one everyone knows about. It isn’t the one everyone sees at rallies, charity events, or even at bars. Some say Wrath MC is just a myth. A club that was savage, a club that passed around women and then sold them to the highest bidder. Others say the MC is full of nine-to-fivers and weekend warriors. They also say, no one wanted to cross them. Well, some of those myths just may be true. While there are rumors about the club and those are galore, the rumor of where the mother charter could possibly be located is the largest one of all. The people in a little old county in South Carolina know better. The three hundred square miles around Pinewood Lake held a secret. A very well-known secret or two. Little did they know, Wrath MC holds many more secrets, and a lot of those are made of stories your momma warned you about. Some people have even been rumored to have gone missing in the area, never to be heard from again. While others have either passed through and are but a fading memory, some have come and gone and left their mark. While others have come and made their mark on not only the MC but on the community as well. This story is about one of the members of Wrath MC—the Enforcer, to be exact. Hold on for one wild alpha badass man and a romance that will last till the end of time. Prologue Tank Can you imagine the things a single person can accomplish? Can you see their future? Walk through their dreams? See right inside their soul? Do you ever wonder what they saw the first time they opened their eyes? Do you feel the power that their tiny bodies can wield? Often, too many times I had found myself inquiring about those very things. Now, I guess you're wondering why that is. Well, it happens when you're sitting on the bottom bunk on a plastic, no-filling piece of something, they call a mattress. When you’re eight years old. When you weigh only forty pounds. When you thankfully have a nosey-as-hell neighbor that called child protective services. How it feels to be taken from a home… Well, I wouldn’t classify that as a home, not really. A home isn’t supposed to have boarded-up windows. Holes in the roof were patched up with black trash bags. Pots and pans caught the rainwater that drips all over the carpet and the flooring. Pots and pans are supposed to be used for cooking. You shouldn’t have to scrounge the neighborhood looking for food and something that could house your food without worrying about it going bad in a day or two because of the poor conditions of the house. No, in a home, you should sit at a table with your family and have a meal. In a home, you should be able to lie on your bed and be comfortable. Not worry about if you laid enough of your meager clothing on top of you when the weather drops to eight degrees, and the power’s off because your so-called parents only cared about shooting shit up through their veins. What you shouldn’t have to worry about at eight years old or at any age if you were going to wake up with frostbite. So, there I sat on the edge of that mattress, unsure. Not because I was taken from the only thing I’ve ever known. Not because I had my meager belongings, three pairs of pants, three shirts, a few pairs of underwear, socks, and one jacket, besides what I was wearing, in one of those wretched black trash bags. Because sitting there, I made a few promises to myself. First, drugs were never getting put inside my body. The only way I would take them was if the pain was unbearable should something happen to my body. Second, the mattress I ended up in every night was going to be darn right comfortable. Third, I was going to learn how to cook. And I would work my butt off to be able to afford what I wanted to eat. Fourth, I didn’t know where my life was headed, but as soon as I saw something that called out to me, I was going to jump on it and hold on to it with both hands. I’d added a few more promises to myself that very night, but that’s for another time. And lastly, I vowed to never use a trash bag again. Only for fucking trash. Because I would be