Page 64 of Claimed By The Club
Ghost tucks me to his chest, pressing a tender kiss to my temple. “I never thought I’d share like this. We did before, but not this serious,” he admits, voice low, “but I won’t regret it.”
Frost smooths his hand along my side. “We’re not losing you, not after everything.”
Viper cradles my hand in his, eyes shining. “You have each piece of us. Remember that.”
Tears slip freely now, tears of joy and relief. “I love you all,” I manage, voice catching. “It still feels unreal, but I can’t imagine living any other way. You saved me, and you let me save you. This is my family.”
They nod in agreement. Each man resonates with a quiet acceptance, a vow that transcends typical relationships. The moment doesn’t need flowery words or grand speeches. Our sweaty, exhausted bodies tangled on a worn mattress speak volumes:We choose this life, we choose each other, we choose her.And I choose them.
Minutes drift. We let the cool desert breeze trickle through the cracked window, offering relief from the heat. Viper shifts, nudging me gently. “You okay?” he asks, eyes filled with concern.
I curl into him, still braced by Ghost on one side and Frost on the other. “I’m more than okay,” I say, smiling through teary eyes. “I’m… whole.”
Frost’s fingers thread through my hair, voice calming. “We never wanted you to feel torn. We made this decision because we know you belong with us. All of us.”
Ghost echoes softly, “No jealousy. Just acceptance.”
I wrap my arms around them, letting out a trembling breath. “There’s no word for how grateful I am. For your trust, your hearts, your willingness to share me. And for letting me share you in return.”
Viper chuckles. “We didn’t exactly ‘let’ you, Sierra. We wanted you. Plain and simple.”
A bubble of laughter escapes my chest. I nestle against the pillows, mind drifting to the future. The MC is forging a new chapter, with expansions, alliances, and a legitimate veneer that might set us apart from the old ways. The Reapers have been checked, Jen is no longer looming with her betrayal, and our internal traitors are dealt with. We can breathe again, focusing on building rather than bracing for the next blow.
As if reading my thoughts, Ghost whispers, “What do you see for the future, Sierra?”
I chew my lip, heart swelling. “Something stable. Maybe we do those bar renovations, that clothing line tie-in, more community outreach. I see an MC that people don’t fear as criminals but respect as guardians. And personally…” My voice quivers. “I see me with you, building a home. I never had a real home, not with my parents or my old business. But with you three, I feel safe.”
Their expressions shift, each man reacting in a subtle but profound way. Frost’s eyes glisten with the barest hint of moisture, Viper’s mouth curves into a smile so genuine it cracks his usual bravado, and Ghost’s stiff posture softens further, an unguarded flicker across his features.
Frost moves first, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You have our word—this place, this club, it’s your home now. We stand by you.”
Viper squeezes my hand. “Whatever you need, we’ll figure out together.”
Ghost, quiet as ever, just leans forward, brushing a tender kiss to my lips, letting the gesture speak volumes. I melt into him, a hazy warmth enveloping my senses. I can’t remember the last time I felt so content. The bed, the men, the hush of the desert afternoon—it all merges into a cocoon of serenity.
Time slips away in sweet inertia, none of us in a rush. We trade soft touches, shared smiles, and hushed jokes. At one point, Viper jokes about how the guys at the bar would never believe we’re actually lying here, entwined in peaceful bliss. Frost cracks a small grin, shaking his head, and Ghost adds that maybe it’s good they don’t know everything. We laugh softly, reveling in the moment without letting the entire world weigh in on our private bond.
Eventually, the demands of the day seep back in. Frost’s phone vibrates from somewhere on the floor, an undeniable reminder of real life waiting beyond the safe house walls. Ghost sighs, lifting an arm to retrieve it, passing it to Frost. As Frost checks the message, I sense the shift—duties returning, responsibilities calling.
He reads quickly, then sets the phone aside. “That was Axel. He says everything’s calm. No sign of Reapers messing around, and the final chunk of finances from Jen’s accounts is being sorted by Knox’s replacement. We’re free to, well… do anything.”
I allow a grin, leaning back into the pillows. “Good. Because I’m exhausted, and I want to enjoy not running for my life for once.”
They chuckle, exchanging affectionate glances. Each man drapes a supportive limb over me or the bed, ensuring I’m cocooned in their presence. The knowledge that we can linger, that no immediate crisis tears us apart, ignites a quiet joy. We drift in languid conversation, interspersed with lazy caresses and the occasional soft kiss. It’s a symphony of closeness, reminding me how love can exist outside the boundaries of normal.
A hum of satisfaction settles in my chest. I trace patterns on Ghost’s forearm, feeling him relax under my touch. Viper tangles a hand in my hair, occasionally planting light kisses along my shoulder. Frost strokes a thumb across the back of my hand, steady and content. Despite the swirl of details waiting—club expansions, final deals, bridging alliances—I feel grounded in this moment. We’ve sealed our bond physically, emotionally, and there’s no going back.
My breathing slows, eyelids drooping under the gentle comfort of them all. The last thought dancing through my mind is how lucky I am to have found not just one love, but three, each man bridging a different corner of my heart. After all the bullets, betrayals, and tears, we’ve created something extraordinary: a family forged in danger, tempered by devotion, bound by choices we freely made.
I drift off with a smile, certain that when we wake, the world outside will still be complicated, but we’ll tackle it together. This final intimate moment wasn’t just about passion; it was a promise that no matter the storms to come, our hearts beat in unison. And that’s enough for me to rest easy, safe in the knowledge that I’m not alone, not in the least.
22
SIERRA
Three months slip by in a rush of progress and unexpected tranquility. The Renegade Cross MC stands stronger than ever, each day a testament to how far we’ve come. No more fear of hidden traitors. No more bullet-strewn showdowns in the desert. Our legitimate expansions flourish under group effort, forging an unshakeable foundation. I can hardly reconcile this thriving organization with the battered crew I once hid behind. Yet here we are—surviving, evolving, and, dare I say, content.
Sunlight streams through the wide windows of the renovated clubhouse lounge, illuminating battered pool tables and bright new banners. A fresh coat of paint brightens the walls, giving them an almost cheerful ambiance. Axel stands near the corner, instructing a handful of prospects on how to handle deliveries for the bar, while Ghost nods in quiet approval. Viper’s across the room, teasing one of the younger members about weekend chores, wearing a grin I rarely saw months ago. The tension that once clung to every conversation has dissipated, replaced by camaraderie and an eager appetite for possibility.
