Page 27 of King's Claim
“I lost my job, Mom.Both of them.I’m ...working on it.”
There was a pause.“You know we can find a solution together.Maybe I can ring up my friend Marry Anne, see if the bookstore’s hiring?”
“I’ll figure it out,” Lena said tightly.“I always do.”
Her mom sighed, that long-suffering sound Lena had grown up hearing.“All right.But if you need me, I’m here.”
They hung up, leaving Lena staring at the chipped mug in her hands.She hated how small she felt, how unmoored.
By the afternoon, she forced herself out of the apartment.Sitting there, stewing in her own thoughts, wasn’t helping.She walked the streets aimlessly, the air carrying a bite that hinted at fall.
She stopped at a couple of bars, asked about work.No luck.One manager offered her a polite smile and a free drink but shook his head at the resumé she slid across the counter.
The rejection didn’t surprise her, but it stung anyway.
On the way home, she caught a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision.A man leaning against the corner of a building, smoke curling from his cigarette.He looked away when her eyes met his.
Maybe nothing.Just a city street.
But halfway up her block, she saw another man across the road, pretending to check his phone.He wore a leather vest, the kind she’d come to recognize.
Her stomach dropped.MC.
Her pulse jumped, hot anger chasing the fear.King.It had to be.He didn’t trust her to handle her own life, didn’t believe she could protect herself.
She quickened her pace, fumbled her key into the lock, and slammed her apartment door shut behind her.
For a long moment, she leaned against it, breath coming hard.
She wanted to scream.To cry.To punch something.
Instead, she grabbed her phone and threw it onto the couch.The screen lit up briefly with her reflection.Tired eyes, clenched jaw, a woman holding herself together with thread.
King had called her a weakness.She’d believed him.Maybe part of her still did.But that didn’t mean she’d let him control her, not anymore.
The next morning, she woke early and forced herself into action.She dressed sharp, pulled her hair back, and marched into every café, bar, and restaurant within walking distance.By noon, she had a handful of applications filled out, a few polite brush-offs, and one tentative maybe.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Still, the sense of being watched lingered.At the laundromat, a guy in a dark hoodie sat two rows over, eyes flicking to her whenever she moved.On the way home, she swore she caught the same flash of a cigarette ember from the alley.
She told herself she was imagining it.That paranoia was just another scar from the clubhouse, from living too close to men who thrived on shadows and violence.
But deep down, she knew better.By the time evening fell, exhaustion dragged at her bones.She sank onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.
She wanted to believe she was free.She wanted to believe she’d carved out a life on her own terms.
But the truth pressed heavy.No matter how far she ran, King’s world had already marked her.
Worse than the fear, worse than the anger, was the ache that wouldn’t go away.The ache of missing him, even when she knew she shouldn’t.
Lena curled onto her side, pressing her face into the pillow, and told herself it would pass.That she could survive this.She had to.
