Page 48 of Claimed By The Club
“Right here, guarded,” I say firmly. “I want Viper watching you. Ghost will help coordinate once we’re in motion.”
Her lips part, concern evident. “You’re going too, right?”
“Absolutely,” I reply, voice tinged with an edge I can’t hide. The idea of leading half the club into a potential ambush rattles me, but it’s my job. “Someone has to keep the Reapers focused on the false target.”
Sierra’s hands twist in front of her. “Be careful.”
The tenderness in her voice cuts through my hardened shell. I want to reassure her, to promise I’ll come back unscathed, but in our world, there are no guarantees. Instead, I gently cradle her elbows and meet her eyes. “I’ll do everything I can.”
She nods, tension in every line of her posture. Then she turns to leave, probably heading toward the safe house or the office, but hesitates. “Frost?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“I know you’re juggling so much—leading the club, protecting me—but… if something goes wrong, I don’t want you blaming yourself.” Her voice quivers with raw honesty. “I’m in this with you.”
Emotion threatens to break my composure. I give a brief nod, afraid that if I speak, my voice will betray me. She readsthat in my silence, offering a small, tremulous smile before drifting away. That gesture hits me harder than any bullet. She’s entrusted us with her life, and we’re on the brink of war. Failure isn’t an option.
As soon as she’s gone, I step outside, needing fresh air. The late afternoon sun scorches the lot, reflecting off a row of polished bikes. Ghost stands nearby, arms folded as he surveys the fence line. I approach, appreciating his steady presence.
He offers a grunt of acknowledgment. “All set?”
I let out a tense breath. “As much as we can be. Gather a small detail. We’ll finalize route plans for the fake transport. Keep the circle small—Axel, maybe two or three more. We can’t risk the traitor finding out all the details prematurely.”
He nods. “I’ll pick them carefully.” Then his gaze shifts. “How’s Sierra holding up?”
“Scared,” I admit, voice tight, “but determined.”
“Viper’s with her?”
“He will be.” I glance toward the safe house. “She’s safer in his company.”
He hums, not quite a sound of approval or disapproval, just acknowledgment. Tension remains between us over how we share her time, her trust, her affection. But we’ve put that aside for now. The threat to her life trumps personal jealousies. He turns to the fence again, scanning for any suspicious movement. I follow his line of sight, relieved to see no sign of Reaper scouts lurking.
“Let’s get this done,” I say quietly, then walk off to finalize the plan.
Evening shadows stretch across the compound by the time we gather the select few for a briefing. Axel, Ghost, a couple of seasoned members named Rook and Marshall. I explain the route—an empty stretch of highway that seldom sees traffic at night—where we’ll stage a bogus shipment, rumored to becrucial to our club’s finances. The Reapers, if they catch wind of it, should pounce, thinking they’ll strike a crippling blow.
Rook spits onto the dirt, nodding. “It’s risky as hell, boss.”
I meet his gaze. “Agreed. But it’s our chance to draw them out on our terms. We’ll have vantage points along the approach, hidden watchers. We’ll see who shows up and how they coordinate. If we spot anyone from our side relaying the details, we’ve found our mole.”
Axel’s brow furrows, but he keeps any doubts to himself. Ghost remains silent, occasionally giving a curt nod. It’s enough. They trust me, even if they’re uneasy. We disperse to collect gear. The plan goes down tomorrow night. We want the rumor to spread quickly, so we’ll start leaking hints. If the traitor’s embedded deep, they’ll pass it along soon.
I rub a hand over my face, exhaustion setting in. One more day of waiting, one more night of restless worry. My chest constricts at the thought of Sierra enduring more anxiety. But if the Reapers come, we’ll ambush them with every resource we have. We either end this or go down fighting.
I find myself wandering to the safe house, as if my body moves there on autopilot. Viper’s presence is obvious—he’s leaning against the exterior wall, arms crossed. He straightens when he notices me.
“How’s she doing?” I ask quietly.
“She’s wound tight,” he admits, voice laced with concern. “But she’s not backing down. I told her about the plan—enough for her to understand.”
I jerk my chin in acknowledgment. Then, after a pause, I gesture for him to follow me. We step around the corner of the safe house, out of earshot of any loitering members. I meet his gaze.
“You’ll watch her tomorrow while we’re gone?”
He nods, unwavering. “Of course.”
My thoughts whirl with the knowledge that I walked in on him and Sierra not long ago. Jealousy simmers, but so does acceptance and lust. The dynamic we share is complicated, and I’m learning to handle it. He sees the tumult in my eyes, but doesn’t back away.
