Page 43 of Claimed By The Club
I silence her worries with a light brush of my fingers across her cheek. “Don’t blame yourself. They’re the ones crossing lines.”
Her lips quiver, and she nods. “We should go.”
“Yeah.” But I linger, pulling her into a swift, tight embrace. “I’m not letting them take you,” I whisper fiercely. “Count on that.”
She leans into my chest for a beat, then pulls away. We straighten our clothes one more time, gather scattered papers, and cross the threshold into the hallway. The reality of the Reapers’ fresh attack pushes away the tenderness of our moment, leaving me hungry for justice.
Down the corridor, we meet Viper again, who waits with arms folded. He doesn’t tease or question what he walked in on. Instead, we walk together in tense silence, heading toward the main lounge. I sense Sierra’s anxiety spiking with every step. Myown heart pounds, locked on the knowledge that the Reapers singled out her name.
When we reach the lounge, a cluster of members has already gathered. Frost stands at the center, jaw clenched, his composure tested by the news. The room hushes as we arrive, all eyes flicking to Sierra. She holds her head high despite the trembling in her fists.
“All right,” Frost says, voice cold with controlled anger. “We’ve got a direct threat. Bluelight’s window is busted, paint scrawled with Sierra’s name. We can’t stand by.” He sweeps his gaze over each member, settling on me, Viper, and Sierra. “We find their hideouts, their enforcers, and cut them off. No more waiting.”
A quiet rumble of agreement passes through the group. The air crackles with tension, a mixture of fear, anger, and fierce loyalty. My mind drifts to the locked office, the closeness I shared with Sierra just moments ago. That intimacy stands in stark contrast to the harsh reality we face now. But maybe that’s what makes it all worth defending.
Sierra squares her shoulders, stepping forward. “Can I help with finances to fund any retaliation or increased security?”
Frost inclines his head, appreciating her offer. “Yes. We’ll meet after church. For now, everyone, gear up. We move at dawn if we locate their camp.” Then he flicks his gaze to me, Viper, and Sierra. “Stay close. We’ll rotate shifts so she’s never alone. Understood?”
We answer with silent nods. The room bursts into motion, men dispersing to make calls, gather weapons, triple-check perimeter defenses. Sierra remains near me, tension rolling off her in waves. I give her a side glance, remembering the resolve in her eyes when she gave in to our closeness. That same resolve will help her weather this storm.
“We’ll figure it out,” I promise, leaning in so only she can hear.
She manages a small, brave smile. “I believe you.”
Deep down, fear claws at my nerves. The Reapers are escalating. The traitor’s still unknown. But as I stand here, flanked by Viper on one side and Sierra on the other, I feel a fierce determination that we’ll protect what’s ours—by any means necessary. Even if it means riding through the desert night to hunt down every last threat, we won’t let them break us.
And if the traitor thinks we’re divided, they’re dead wrong. Because in the quiet corners of this clubhouse, we’ve forged something stronger than gossip or threats. We’ve found a bond that refuses to cave, a loyalty that resonates in every shared glance, every stolen kiss, every vow to stand together. Let them come. We’re ready.
15
SIERRA
My stomach feels like lead as I stare at the sheet of paper in my hands, an official document listing financial transfers from the accounts Jen once helped manage. The final line reveals a direct link between her and the Iron Reapers, showing payments and suspicious deposits that no legitimate business would ever touch. A heavy hush grips the makeshift office as Knox sets aside the last of his printouts.
I just found out today when the results came back on the club’s investigation about Jen. They’re helping me locate her, and stumbled upon this.
“She’s been funneling funds to them for months,” Knox says, voice thick with frustration. “We had guesses, but now it’s laid out in black and white.”
I swallow hard, throat raw from the shock. “This… means Jen’s been in bed with them from the start?” My head throbs, and an old sense of betrayal flares. I’d wanted to believe that maybe she was coerced or made a bad choice under pressure, but these documents confirm a far more deliberate plan.
Knox nods, eyes flitting over the papers. “Seems so. She’s using shell companies to hide the flow, but she’s clearlybankrolling them in some way—maybe partial weapons deals, maybe expansions. We don’t know the extent yet.”
I sink into a battered chair, the overhead light buzzing faintly. The entire clubhouse feels stifled. My chest constricts as I picture Jen forging alliances with the same rivals who threaten me daily. The betrayal hits deeper than my old fury over embezzled funds. This is life or death, especially for me and the MC that’s protected me.
Frost stands nearby, arms folded. His expression is grim, but his focus remains on Knox’s data. Viper leans against the doorframe, tension evident in his posture. Ghost shadows the back of the room, silent as always. The weight of this discovery fills the cramped space, a stark reminder that we’re in the crosshairs. And it’s partly my ex-partner pulling the trigger.
“How do we use this?” I finally ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
Knox glances at Frost. “If we can trace these accounts further, we might corner Jen or the Reapers into a deal. But we need more time. Right now, the bigger issue is that they have plenty of resources—and possibly inside help.”
My pulse jumps at that last line. The traitor. We still don’t know who’s feeding the Reapers information about me. Suspicion’s been swirling for days, yet we’re no closer to an answer. My eyes drift to the floor, a wave of fear creeping over me. If they’re well-funded by Jen, then these threats against me aren’t idle. And if the traitor’s working with them, I’m even more vulnerable.
Frost clears his throat. “Knox, keep digging. Everyone else, double-check security. We have a meeting in two hours to plan our next move.”
A few curt nods follow. Knox starts gathering the documents, handing me a couple to review for potential financial leads. The men file out, leaving me and Viper behind. He lingers, armsstill crossed, gaze fixed on me. As soon as the others depart, the tension in the room changes, shifting from strategy to personal concern.
“You holding up?” Viper asks quietly, stepping closer.
