My life revolved around rodeos, ranch work, and my bike, and everything I did was to follow in my father’s footsteps. I wanted to claim my rightful place in the Royal Bastards, but not at the expense of losing my Pops. He was betrayed by someone close to him, but no matter how hard I dug, I couldn’t figure out who deceived us all.

My father’s legacy was destroyed, and the club was in shambles when I took the Presidency. The only way to restore honor to the club and create a new legacy was to dismantle it and rebuild from the ground up. But to do that, I had to uncover those who had betrayed my father and destroy them before they targeted anyone else. 

I fought to find my way without Pops, and the only thing that kept me sane was going home to Cheyenne. She kept me centered when I wanted to burn the world to the ground, and I never questioned her loyalty, even if she was as crazy as she was beautiful. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to tame that wild spirit.

My Pops called me Trent, but to everyone else, I was Roughstock, the unbreakable animal who refused to be tamed. And I was going to rain hell on the Black Hills until I restored my club’s honor, or I’d die trying.