Page 8 of Claimed By Werewolf
Because for the first time in a long damn time, I’d lied to my president.
And I’d done it for a woman I barely knew.
I found myself at the bar with half a bottle of whiskey before I realized I was even drinking.My brothers came and went.Slapped me on my shoulder, cracked jokes, but it all washed over me.My head was back in that alley with Demi.The way her voice shook but didn’t break when she demanded answers.The way she looked at me like she didn’t give a damn if I was the monster they said I was.
No one looked at me like that.
People saw the cut, the ink, the scars.They saw the violence.They didn’t look deeper.
Hell, most days, I didn’t want them to.
But she had.
And it rattled me worse than any bullet or blade ever had.
Later, I stepped outside to clear my head.The night air was cooler now, and the hum of cicadas filled the dark edges of the lot.I lit a cigarette, leaned against my bike, and stared out at nothing.
This should’ve been simple.
Prez said handle her.I’d handled worse.One girl shouldn’t have been a problem.
But she wasn’t just some girl.
She was Tyler Cross’s sister.
And Tyler Cross was already a ghost that haunted me more than I wanted to admit.
If I told her the truth, she’d never walk away.If I didn’t, she’d keep digging until she found it herself.Either way, she was marked.
And somehow, some twisted part of me had already decided I wasn’t going to let her go down like her brother did.
Even if it meant burning everything else to the ground.
-
The next morning, the clubhouse was quieter.Most of the guys were passed out in their rooms or sprawled on couches.I’d never been much for sleep, so I ended up in the garage, working on my bike.Grease on my hands, tools lined up neat, and the steady rhythm of tightening bolts.It was the only place I found peace.
Except even here, she followed me.
Demi.
Her voice.Her eyes.The way she’d stood there, refusing to back down even when I’d had her pinned against concrete.
I scrubbed a hand down my face and cursed under my breath.
This was a mistake waiting to happen.
And I couldn’t stop myself from waiting for the next time she’d come knocking.
That afternoon, Chick, one of our younger patched members, wandered into the garage with a yawn big enough to crack his jaw.“Prez wants you, Wolf.”
I set down the wrench and wiped my hands on a rag.“Now?”
“Now.”
I followed him back inside, heart ticking faster.Prez was at the long table in the main room with a few of the other officers: Mac, the Vice Prez, Coup, the Treasurer, and Tremor, the Road Captain.Their faces were grim.
“Word is,” Prez said when I stepped up, “the girl ain’t as gone as you said she was.”
