Page 54 of Claimed By The Club
My anger flares. “Owe you? You stole from our company, you funded the Reapers, you endangered me and my entire life.”
She exhales dismissively. “You had everything—press, brand deals, the board’s favor. I was overshadowed. So I made an alternative plan.” She shrugs, voice laced with venom. “It’s business.”
Tremors shake my arms as I clench my fists. “That’s not business, that’s betrayal. Look around. People are hurt. Members are dead.”
Her eyes gleam with something I can only call greed. “You caused your own trouble running to that biker gang. If you’d stuck with me from the start, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
I glare. “You wouldn’t have forced me into hiding if you hadn’t stolen everything.”
She opens her mouth to retort, but footsteps crunch behind me. My stomach lurches—did one of the men break cover? I spin, finding Knox—our own club treasurer—stepping out from behind a rusted shipping container. My heart plummets. Why is he here?
Jen’s grin widens. “Knox. Right on time.”
My mouth goes dry. “Knox, what are you doing?”
He lifts a gun, aimed with shaking hands, though his gaze holds a hardened edge. “Sorry, Sierra. I hoped to avoid this, but you were bound to find out eventually.”
I stare, stunned. “You’re working with Jen?”
His lips press together. “I took some money from the accounts. Nothing huge at first, but after Snake got caught, I worried you’d dig deeper. Then Jen offered a bigger cut if I helped her get into your finances. She can’t access everything alone.”
Nausea churns in my gut. We cleared one traitor only to find another? “Knox, how could you do this? The club’s your family.”
He grits his teeth. “I need real money. The MC’s going legit, no big scores. I knew you’d discover my skimming soon enough. Jen promised me a bigger payday. We get your brand accounts, siphon them. Everybody wins, except you. And the rest of the club.”
Jen cocks a brow. “He’s right. You think you can vanish into the desert with your new biker friends, ignoring the empire you built? Not happening.”
A tremor of fear sizzles through me. “So what now? You kill me for control of accounts?”
Knox’s grip tightens on the pistol. “We’d prefer you cooperate. Hand over the info. Otherwise…” He doesn’t finish, but the threat hangs in the sweltering air.
I swallow, scanning for an opening. The men are out there, probably waiting for my signal. But if Knox or Jen get spooked, they’ll shoot first. My phone sits in my pocket, useless if I can’t reach it. Desperation flares. “I never expected this from you,” I say, voice shaking.
Knox’s eyes flash. “I did what I had to do.”
Jen tuts. “Let’s skip the guilt trip. Give us the passwords, Sierra. Then we let you walk away. Or… not.”
My heart thunders. “I can’t just hand everything over. I have partial locks in place in my accoutns. Even I can’t access it, most of my money has been frozen when Jen ran away with it. The club has some data, too—” I’m stalling, praying the men are ready.
Jen smirks. “We’ll find ways around your locks, or you’ll die. It’s that simple.”
Knox steps forward, gun aimed at my head. My vision blurs. So this is how it ends? Goose bumps prickle my arms, despite the heat. Then a sound behind them—footsteps light and quick. Marian emerges, phone raised. She must’ve followed Knox unseen.
“Put the gun down,” Marian commands, eyes flashing. She’s capturing this on video, probably streaming to the MC. My chest lifts with hope.
Knox curses, pivoting the weapon toward her. “Back off, Marian. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Jen shifts sideways, rummaging in her handbag. My pulse spikes. She’s likely got a weapon. Marian glances at me, expression fierce. “I suspected something off about you, Knox. Saw you slip out.” She waves the phone. “We’re live, you bastard. Everyone at the clubhouse sees this.”
Knox’s face pales, but he doesn’t drop the gun. “You don’t scare me. We’ll be gone before they show.”
Jen levels a small pistol from her handbag. “Enough talk. Give me that phone.”
Marian refuses, tension coiling in her stance. “Sierra, move,” she hisses, voice urgent. But before I can obey, Jen fires a shot. The bullet grazes Marian’s side, a sharp cry escaping her lips as she drops to a knee, clutching her torso.
“No!” I scream, adrenaline roaring through me. I lunge to catch Marian before she hits the ground. Blood seeps through her fingers. Jen swings the gun back at me, but the phone in Marian’s hand remains angled upward—still transmitting. My world narrows: Marian in pain, Jen and Knox armed, everything spinning.
A wave of fierce anger overtakes my fear. I see the faint glint of a fallen handgun near Marian’s foot. She must’ve brought it but lost her grip. I scoop it up, palms slick with sweat. I hold it unsteadily, aiming at Jen, tears blurring my vision. “Stop!” My voice wobbles, but I refuse to let them kill Marian or me without a fight.
