Page 30 of Claimed By Werewolf
Not whispered.Not muttered.Not hidden away in a dark alley where no one else could hear.
No.He’d said it in the clubhouse.In front of the Sons.In front of men who lived by rules and codes.
“She’s mine.”
Like I was property.Like I was some shiny thing he’d snatched up and slapped his name on.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard it again.And every time, I hated how much it didn’t feel like an insult.
It felt like a promise.
That’s what made me furious.
He said it, and now he wouldn’t even talk to me.
He had sent me away last night like those words had never come out of his mouth.Like he had forgotten them, and I was supposed to do the same.
I think the hell not.
That’s what made me get out of my car and march across the street to the garage.
Because if he thought he could say that and then act like nothing had happened, he had another thing coming.
The garage was loud when I pushed through the door.Men in cuts moved around like they owned the place.
And maybe they did.
But my eyes went straight to him.
Werewolf.
He was bent over a bike, with his sleeves shoved up to reveal the ink twisting down his arms.
When he lifted his head, his eyes caught mine across the room, and the noise dimmed.Everything dimmed.
The other men looked, too.Some curious, some smirking, and some sharp with suspicion.
I didn’t care.
I shoved my way across the garage until I stood right in front of him.
“We need to talk,” I snapped.
His jaw flexed, eyes narrowing.“Not here.”
“Yes, here.”I crossed my arms and dared him to shut me down.“Unless you’re too much of a coward to talk in front of them.”
That got attention.A few brothers paused mid-task and glanced between us.
Werewolf’s gaze sharpened.He tossed the wrench onto the bench with a clang, grabbed a rag to wipe his hands, then nodded toward the back.
“Office.Now.”
The door slammed behind us, and the noise of the garage muffled instantly.The room was small, cramped, and reeked of oil and smoke.A desk sat shoved against the wall with papers scattered over it and a half-burned cigarette crushed in the ashtray.
He turned and towered over me.His body radiated fury.“What the fuck are you doing, Demi?”
“What the fuck amIdoing?”My voice rose, sharp.“You’re the one who stood in front of your precious club and claimed me like I’m some kind of prize you won.”
