Page 28 of Claimed By The Club
I manage a nod, though my pulse is still racing. “I’m fine, thanks to Ghost.”
Viper’s gaze lingers on me, searching for any injury. I see his jaw tighten with protective anger. Once he’s satisfied I’m not physically hurt, he glances at Ghost. “We’ll need to tell Frost.”
Ghost nods grimly, then strides off, presumably to do just that. Viper stays behind, turning his focus on me. He brushes his thumb across a smudge of dirt on my cheek, expression gentle. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I promise,” I murmur, though my insides churn. I’m safe, but my heart feels like it’s in a spin cycle.
Viper studies me, relief and worry mingling in his vibrant green eyes. “We’ll ramp up security. Don’t leave alone again, okay?”
I swallow, nodding. “I won’t.”
He lingers a moment, then sighs. “Better get inside. Frost’ll debrief us. You need rest or anything?”
My head shakes automatically. “I can handle it.”
He presses a hand to my shoulder, gaze warm. “I know you can.” With that, he moves off to rally a few members, leaving me alone by the back wall, dust swirling around my feet.
I take a shaky breath, letting the magnitude of the day sink in. Within a single hour, I nearly got kidnapped by a Reaper, was rescued by Ghost, and shared a fleeting kiss that stirs new confusion. Now I’m on track to regroup with Frost, who I have an ongoing secret relationship with. The swirl of emotions inside me is dizzying.
Am I a biker groupie? The thought makes me cringe, but I can’t deny the attraction I feel. Each man meets a different piece of me—Ghost’s quiet intensity, Frost’s leadership and control, Viper’s warmth and humor. That synergy sets my senses on fire. I’m not sure if it’s right or wrong, only that it’s real.
A wave of exhaustion washes over me, but I won’t let fear rule me. I made a choice to stand with Renegade Cross when everything else crumbled, and I won’t abandon them now. Eventhough the Iron Reapers are tightening their noose, this club has given me a sense of belonging—and a glimpse of love in a form I never imagined.
Steeling my resolve, I straighten and head around the building to find Frost. Whatever the next step is, I’m in this fight. I won’t run anymore, even if my heart is a tangled mess. Because here, with these men, I’ve finally felt something that might be worth risking it all: the hope of forging a new future. And I’m not letting go.
10
GHOST
Ikeep a vigil on the clubhouse’s side entrance, posted near a grimy window that overlooks the yard. Dawn light filters through the glass, revealing dust motes suspended in the still air. A scuffed wooden bench supports my weight. Behind me, the corridor leads to a small armory and storage area, a place we’ve fortified since rumors of the Iron Reapers’ presence in Clearwater Springs escalated.
My muscles remain tense, senses tuned to any hint of movement. I’ve been on edge all morning, thanks to the scuffle at Dolly’s store yesterday. Sierra nearly got herself snatched by one of those thugs, and I’m still nursing the bruise on my cheek from the exchange. She managed to slip away, no real injuries, but the whole situation highlighted how close danger is creeping.
I rub a thumb over my bruised knuckles, recalling how it felt to slam the Reaper’s head into a shelf. My tolerance for threats is zero, especially when Sierra’s involved. That stray thought triggers a flicker of guilt, along with a memory of the brief, heated kiss we shared behind the clubhouse. An echo of her soft mouth lingers. I know it complicates everything, especially withour situation now. But reason isn’t winning any arguments in my head right now.
Footsteps in the hallway make me glance up. Viper—Carter—approaches, hands shoved in his pockets. His shoulders look tense, jaw clenched. He stops when he notices my stance.
“You got a minute?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “What’s going on?”
He edges closer, lowering his voice. “We got intel. A small group of Reapers is roaming near Old Creek Road. They might be scouting or moving weapons. Axel caught wind of it. Frost wants us to intercept.”
A jolt of adrenaline courses through my veins. “How many are we talking?”
“Four or five, max,” he replies. “Could be more if they’re hidden. We’re taking a small team. Frost wants me, you, and maybe one prospect to run backup.”
I push off the bench, straightening. “When do we head out?”
“In an hour,” he says. “Gear up. We’ll meet out by the bikes.”
He turns and walks away, tension visible in every step. Viper might be the youngest of us, but he’s fiercely protective. If these Reapers are sneaking around, it’s a direct threat we can’t ignore. I nod to myself and head toward the armory to grab my preferred handgun and a couple of knives. My focus narrows to the objective: confront them, send a message, keep Sierra out of harm’s way.
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing with Viper, Frost, and Axel near the chain-link fence at the compound’s edge. The harsh morning sun casts long shadows across the dusty ground. A few patched members linger, waiting for final instructions. We’re traveling light—two bikes, plus a pickup. The plan is to head to Old Creek Road, try to catch the Reapers before they slip away.
Frost meets my gaze, eyes glinting with steel. “Ghost, you ride with Viper. Axel’s in the truck with one prospect. I’ll betrailing behind. We keep radio contact. If it’s a setup, we pull back.”
I give a brief nod. “Understood.”
