Page 45 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

“Word?” He grinned, then licked his pinkish lips. “Then lemme change that.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You tryna wife me up already? Damn.”

“Can you blame me?” He spun me around, hands gripping my hips. “You fine as hell, got that boss bitch energy. I like that shit.”

I was about to say something slick back when the front door crashed open so hard that the music seemed to cut out instantly. Screams rang out, cups spilled, and people scattered as men stormed inside. Big, mean-looking men with cold expressions and even colder intentions.

“What the fuck?!” Mecca shrieked, jumping back as one of them knocked over a table like it was made of paper.

“Who the—” Before I could even finish my sentence, rough hands grabbed me. “GET OFF ME!” I screamed, thrashing, but they were too strong.

“Yo, chill out!” Devontae barked, shoving through the chaos, reaching for his waistband. Bad move. One of the men swung on him so fast I barely saw it happen. He hit the floor, knocked out cold before he could even pull his gun.

“PARKER!” Retia shrieked, running up to them, but another man grabbed her, keeping her back.

“LET ME GO, MOTHERFUCKAS!” I screamed, twisting, kicking, scratching—anything to break free. But I was drunk, disoriented, and weak. I couldn’t fight the grip of the two men hauling me toward the door. One of the men pulled a gun, and suddenly, the whole party was seconds away from turning into a bloodbath.

“EVERYBODY FALL THE FUCK BACK!” the guy holding me barked.

“PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN!” I screamed, still struggling.

“Sorry, Mrs. Mosley,” the man growled, voice like gravel. “Boss wants his wife home.”

My stomach dropped.Oh, fuck.

The last thing I saw before they threw me into the backseat of a black SUV was my girls fighting like hell to get to me. Then the doors slammed shut, and that’s when I smelled his cologne. I looked up, breath shaky, and met ice-cold blue eyes.

Shooter sat there, legs spread, jaw tight, watching me like a predator that had just reclaimed its prey.

“Got somethin’ you need to get off your chest?” he asked, voice low, dangerous.

My heart pounded, rage bubbling through my drunken haze. “You crazy muthafucka,” I spat, hands shaking as I tried to sit up. “You just kidnapped me?!”

Shooter’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Nah,” He leaned in, his voice a dark promise. “I’m just takin’ my wife home.”

The car sped off into the night, taking me straight back to the last place I wanted to be. Straight back to him.

The car ride was silent and not the kind of silence that felt comfortable, but the kind that felt suffocating.

Shooter sat next to me, his jaw tight, his fingers tapping impatiently against his thigh. His energy was so dark that it seeped into the air, filling the space with an unbearable tension. I kept my eyes forward, staring out the window, heart pounding as my thoughts ran wild.

This was different. He had always been intense, always been possessive, always had a dangerous edge to him. But this? This silence? This unshakable, simmering fury rolling off of him? I hated it, and for the first time since I’d known him, I was truly scared.

I wasn’t sure if it was because I was still drunk or if it was because I had never seen him like this before. Either way, fear wrapped around my ribs, tightening with every passing second.

By the time the SUV pulled into the underground parking garage of the penthouse, my nerves were frayed. The second the car stopped, Shooter swung the door open and stepped out, but I hesitated. The driver turned to look at me, but Shooter’s voice cut through the tension. “Get the fuck out.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and slid out of the car. My legs felt shaky beneath me as I followed him inside, my heart hammering with every step. The moment we were inside the penthouse, the air changed. Shooter didn’t say a word or give me a second to breathe. He slammed the door behind us, grabbed me by the arm, and pinned me to the nearest wall.

I gasped, my breath leaving me in a rush as my back hit the cold wall. His body caged me in, towering over mine, his grip firm but not painful. His scent wrapped around me, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like something I wanted to sink into. For the first time, I wasn’t sure if I was safe. His blue eyes burned into me, unreadable and furious.

And then, before I could stop myself, the words slipped out. “Are you gonna kill me too?” It was a whisper. A whimper. And it destroyed whatever restraint he had left.

His grip tightened just enough to make me suck in a sharp breath. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as his eyes darkened with something lethal. Then, just as quickly as he grabbed me, he let me go.

I staggered slightly, my heart racing as I pressed my palm to my chest, trying to steady my breathing. My whole body was tense, waiting for his next move, but Shooter just took a step back and tilted his head at me.

“If I wanted to kill you, Parker,” he said lowly. “You’d be dead already.” My stomach twisted violently. His words weren’t a threat. They were a fact. I stared at him, my pulse hammering in my throat, my body still pressed against the wall as if it could protect me from him. Then, he gestured toward the living room. “Go sit down.” I hesitated, eyes darting toward the door. He scoffed. “Try it, and I’ll make you regret it.”

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