Page 30 of Claimed By The Club
“That was too simple,” he mutters. “They’ll regroup.”
Viper nods in agreement. “No question. We gotta stay sharp.”
Axel sighs, taking a swig from a water bottle. “At least we’re sending a message. They’ll think twice.”
I doubt it. The Reapers have a reputation for ruthless persistence. Smashing a few weapons and scaring off half a dozen grunts won’t stop them from creeping back with bigger numbers. But for now, we can chalk this up as a minor win, a demonstration that Renegade Cross won’t roll over.
We mount up, leaving the barn behind. The wind whips across my face, carrying the smell of dust and sunbaked sage. My mind drifts, consumed by an uneasy blend of triumph and trepidation. We handled these Reapers with minimal drama, but the tension simmering under the surface isn’t going away. They’re after Sierra, her ex-partner, or both. If they think capturing her is the fastest route to their payday, they’ll keep trying.
Back at the compound, we file in through the gates. A few members cheer quietly when they notice our return, but the mood stays subdued. No one thinks this is the final resolution. We park the bikes, and Frost dismounts, giving me a quick once-over for injuries. I wave him off, stepping away to find some space.
I’m halfway to the side entrance when Sierra appears, hurrying across the yard with a worried expression. She’s changed into a sleeveless top and loose jeans, hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her gaze flicks between me and Viper, scanning us for blood or wounds.
She stops in front of me, breath catching. “You’re okay?”
I clench my jaw, nodding. “It was nothing major.”
Her gaze roves across my knuckles, still raw. “Looks like something.” She gently cups my wrist. “Can I?—?”
I swallow, letting her inspect my hand. The warmth of her touch stirs a deep ache in my chest. I remember the kiss we shared, the fear in her eyes at Dolly’s, the new terror that overcame me at the idea of losing her. I’ve never been sodefensive of anyone outside the MC before, and it unsettles me more than the fight did.
She traces a bruise with careful fingertips. “You should clean this,” she murmurs, voice quiet.
I exhale, stepping closer without thinking. “I will.” My heart beats faster as I catch a faint hint of her perfume—something floral but not cloying. “It’s just a scratch.”
Her lips press together. “It’s more than that.” A flicker of raw concern moves across her features. “Why do you put yourself in harm’s way? I mean, I know it’s your job, but?—”
I cut her off, glancing around. We’re in full view of any curious onlookers. “We can’t talk here,” I say softly, motioning toward a side corridor. She hesitates, then follows me around the corner, out of sight.
Once we’re out of the main yard, she shifts her weight, searching my face. “I was worried.”
Guilt twists in my gut. She shouldn’t have to live with fear, wondering if we’ll come back from each confrontation. “This is what we do,” I reply, trying to keep my tone steady. “It’s how we protect the club… and you.”
Her expression clouds, as if she wants to argue, but she just nods. “I appreciate it. Even if it scares me.”
I hesitate, a wave of protectiveness surging again. My stoic shell threatens to crack under her worried gaze. “I don’t want you to be terrified,” I murmur, glancing at her parted lips. “But the Reapers aren’t backing down. We had to push them out today.”
Her eyes dart to my bruised jaw, then back to my eyes. “What if it gets worse? You could be…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, but I see the flash of worry. In that instant, the memory of our kiss tugs me closer. My heart beats so loudly I’m sure she hears it.
I grit my teeth. “This is the life I chose.” My voice lacks its usual certainty. “You’re in it now too. I’d understand if you wanted to leave.”
She shakes her head, a sudden resolve shining there. “I’m not… Well, I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. You, Frost, Viper… this place… it’s all I’ve got left. I’m not running. No family. I might go back to my fashion empire… but not soon.”
My chest tightens. Her loyalty is powerful, yet it weighs on me. I step in, bridging the distance, ignoring the rational voice telling me to keep away. “You’re sure?”
She lifts her chin. “Yeah.”
I can’t resist the urge to touch her cheek, letting my thumb graze her soft skin. She exhales, eyes fluttering shut for a heartbeat. The gentle contact seems more intimate than any punch I’ve thrown today, more dangerous to my equilibrium than a fistfight. This woman is entangled in our world because of events she never chose, and I need to shield her.
“Sierra,” I say, voice barely audible. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”
Her breath catches. “You can’t promise that.”
I tip my forehead against hers, eyes sliding shut for a moment. “I’ll try.” My body hums with tension—an odd mix of battle adrenaline and longing. I know I shouldn’t be this close. We’ve already broken so many boundaries. But her presence grounds me, reminding me that there’s more to life than violence.
She leans in, lips brushing my jaw in a featherlight gesture. The contact stirs warmth in my chest, a fleeting comfort after the carnage. I have this overwhelming urge to wrap her in my arms, block out the fear that dogs us. Another part remains alert for footsteps or voices that might catch us.
Before we can cross another line, the slam of a door echoes around the corner. We jump apart, hearts pounding. I see regretflash in her eyes, but we both know it’s too risky to get caught. Footsteps approach, so I press my finger to my lips, urging silence.
