Page 39 of Claimed By The Club
Ghost’s expression darkens. He steps closer, scanning my face as if searching for a sign that I’m joking. “You think running is a solution? The Reapers want you. If you go alone, you’ll be vulnerable.”
I swallow. “Better me alone than dragging you all into a war.”
A storm flickers in his gaze. “We’d be in this war regardless. You’re not the cause; you’re the catalyst. We needed to confront the Reapers eventually. Don’t blame yourself.”
He’s standing so close that I can feel the heat of his body. Memories of that night I nearly got snatched at Dolly’s store flare in my mind, and how Ghost protected me with lethal efficiency. “I just hate that people think I’m dividing you,” I murmur.
Ghost exhales, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Focus on who matters: Frost, Viper, me, Axel, Knox, and the ones you know support you. The rest can talk all they want.”
I want to believe him, but the seed of doubt remains. Still, his reassurance helps. “Thanks,” I whisper.
He offers a small nod, then straightens. “I’m heading out to check the perimeter. Stay near your safe house or in the lounge, all right?”
I nod. “Be careful.”
He gives me one last searching look, then slips away. I’m left alone in the hallway, anxiety swirling. At least I’ve confirmed Frost’s feelings haven’t cooled, and Ghost still stands by me. But what about the rest of the other members? Will they resent me, or suspect me of stirring trouble?
Needing distraction, I head to the lounge. The space is busier now, with a few members lounging on couches while others cluster around the bar. One of the groupies from earlier is perched on a stool, sipping from a tall glass. She locks eyes with me and smirks, then leans over to whisper something to her friend, who laughs. My stomach churns, but I force myself to ignore them.
I find a quiet corner sofa, intending to work on my laptop. Before I can sit, Knox appears, tablet in hand. His brow is furrowed. “Need you to confirm the last batch of merch orders,” he says bluntly.
I manage a tight nod. “Sure.”
We settle at a small table, reviewing order quantities and shipping costs. It’s mundane but reassuring—numbers, inventory, profit margins. I can control these elements. They don’t judge me or question my worth. We make decent progress, finalizing a few details for next week’s shipment.
Just as we wrap up, Viper—Carter—wanders in, scanning the room until his gaze lands on me. Relief flickers over his face. He strides over, leaning down to peer at the tablet. “Business talk?”
Knox grunts. “All set. I’m done. She’s yours.” He stands and walks off without another word.
Viper smirks at Knox’s abrupt departure. “Cheery as ever,” he muses, then focuses on me. “You okay? You look stressed.”
I rub my temples. “I am. Heard some nasty rumors. People think I’m causing division. And there’s still the traitor problem.”
He frowns, dropping into the seat next to me. “You’re not causing anything. This club’s had tension brewing for a while. Your arrival might’ve stirred the pot, but we needed a push.” His voice softens. “Don’t let petty gossipers get under your skin.”
I give a shaky smile. “Easier said than done.”
He reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine under the table. The simple contact sends warmth through me, despite the public setting. “Frost tells me you talked?”
I nod, heart fluttering. “Yeah. He’s… okay with everything. Surprised me, really. I was expecting jealousy, but he’s more concerned about the club. Says you and Ghost will stick close until this traitor situation’s sorted out.”
A grin tugs at Viper’s lips. “Works for me.”
My cheeks heat at the memory of our earlier encounter with Ghost walking in. “Won’t people talk if you’re all following me around?”
He shrugs. “They’ll talk no matter what. At least this way we keep you safe.”
His confidence buoys me, though doubt remains. The memory of the women sneering lingers in my thoughts, and the knowledge that the MC is on the brink of internal chaos gnaws at me. But the devotion of these three men—Frost, Ghost, Viper—reminds me I’m not fighting alone.
We chat a bit longer, discussing upcoming bar events and potential merchandise expansions. Eventually, he glances at the wall clock. “I need to run an errand in town, pick up some parts. Wanna ride with me? Might clear your head.”
I hesitate, recalling Ghost’s advice to stay put. But Viper is a top member, and he can protect me just as well. “Sure. I’d like some fresh air.”
He pats my hand and stands. “Let’s go.”
We gather our things and exit the lounge. I avoid the groupies, keeping my gaze straight ahead. Outside, the midday sun blasts heat across the dusty yard. A prospect waves to Viper as we pass. He returns a quick nod, then leads me to his bike. My chest tightens with gratitude for the momentary escape from suspicious stares.
As I climb on behind him, arms around his waist, I remember Frost’s words: “Viper and Ghost can stay close to you.” The arrangement is unusual, but so is everything about my life now. The engine’s roar drowns out my turbulent thoughts as we pull away from the compound, hitting the open road. The wind tugs at my hair, and I lean into Viper’s solid frame.
