Page 20 of Claimed By the Rebel

I sneak out of the kitchen, peering into the catastrophic mess that was left in the bar area last night. Usually, I'd have most of it cleaned up by now.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Viper snarls from behind me as he grabs my upper arm. My brother yanks me backward and spins me around, making me stumble.

“I w-wasn’t feeling w-well l-last night,” I lie. I’ve never been great at hiding the truth, unlike all the men in my life, apparently. “I went to bed early,” I say with more confidence this time. “It must have been a migraine or something. I just woke up and came here as soon as I realized how late I slept.”

Viper stares at me, his usually dead eyes flickering with something dark. He’s always had a temper, which the drugs made worse. But this look… It’s obsessive and lustful, though not toward me. He’s on a power trip, his focus solely on money, drugs, and controlling this town. This new partnership with the cartel has him hungry for more. For everything.

I’m worried he won’t believe me, but after a moment, Viper nods his head. “Go clean yourself up,” he grunts. “You look disgusting.” My brother spits on me, his saliva landing on my shoulder.

“I will,” I promise, taking a step to the side so I can go back to the storage shed I converted into a studio apartment across the gravel lot.

“I have a special project for you today. Need you to do a solid for the club.”

I swallow thickly, a pit forming in my stomach. Still, I nod, agreeing to whatever he says just so I can get out of here.

“Come find me in my office,” Viper instructs. His “office” is a room upstairs with a safe full of cash and a table with lines of cocaine ready to snort at any given moment.

Only when he stomps down the hall and heads upstairs do I let go of the breath I was holding. I don't have a good feeling about this. Maybe I should have tried my luck confronting Razor or run to the nearest railroad track and jumped on the first train moving slowly enough for me to catch.

None of that matters anymore. I’m locked in now.

Twenty minutes later, I emerge from my apartment with clean clothes and freshly washed hair. A wave of sadness breaks over my body at the thought of how I wanted to join Razor in the shower this morning. Another wave washes over me, this one bringing despair and betrayal with it. Finally, anger settles in.

Entering the clubhouse once more, I get a few glares from the club bunnies as I walk past the bar area. Viper must have told them to earn their keep by cleaning up once in a while. That's what he does on the very rare occasion I'm unable to do all of the chores and cleaning in one morning.

I have bigger things to worry about than the ire of Brandi, Danielle, and the other girls. For all I know, this special project could get me killed. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with the bunny drama or the consequences of sleeping with the enemy.

Wow, that’s a dark thought.

“There you are,” Viper says, wiping his nose and sniffling a few times. There’s still some white powder on the side of his left nostril, but I’m certainly not going to be the one to point that out to him.

I stand silently in the doorway, waiting for his next command.

“Don’t look so stiff and awkward,” my brother barks out, making me jump. “I need you to be cool and calm for this. It’s no big deal, so there’s no reason to be nervous.”

Nodding, I keep my eyes focused on the floor. I don’t want to look at Chad. At what he’s become; a terrifying addict ruled by power and surrounded by drug paraphernalia, dirty money, and stolen goods.

“Rory,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve heard in a long time.

I finally look up at him, watching as my brother stands from his seat and walks over to me. He hasn’t called me Rory since we were kids. It was his nickname for me. No one else called me Rory. Only Chad.

“You trust me, right? I’m your big brother. I’ve protected you your entire life. I’d never put you in danger.”

A thousand memories of my childhood flood my mind. Chad distracting me from our parents fighting, us playing in the park, him teaching me how to ride a bike, and then promptly teaching me how to bandage up a scraped knee.

But the man standing in front of me today isn’t Chad. He’s Viper. I’ve suffered his wrath physically and emotionally over the years. I’ve dealt with his mood swings, his erratic behavior, and his excessive drug use, all while keeping the clubhouse in order.

I know he’s manipulating me, but I’m powerless to do anything about it.

“I know,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel.

“Good,” he replies with a smile. This isn’t the pleasant, happy smile of Chad. It’s the sly, wicked smirk of a man with evil intentions. “All you have to do is take this backpack to some friends of mine in Dallas.”

I may be stupid when it comes to love and relationships if the last twenty-four hours have proven anything, but I'm not a total idiot. I know there are drugs in the backpack. Several kilos of cocaine, if I'm not mistaken.

“I… don’t know if–”

Viper snaps, his hand flying through the air and hitting my cheek with enough force to make me dizzy. His fingers wrap around my neck and he pulls me forward before slamming me against the wall.

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