Page 9 of King's Claim
To tuck that strand of hair behind her ear, to tilt her chin and see how long she could keep up that defiant glare once his mouth was on hers.But he held still.Barely.
“Pack your things,” he said finally, his voice low but firm.“You’re coming with me.”
Lena shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.“No.I have my life, my mom—”
“I’ll send men to check on her.To guard her.But you?”He shook his head.“You don’t stay here.Not unless you want to hand yourself over to those bastards on a silver platter.”
Her lips parted, her breath uneven.For the first time, he saw the flicker of fear beneath her steel.And that did it.That decided it for him.
King straightened, towering over her, his voice final.“This isn’t a request, Lena.You’re under the Devil’s Crown’s protection.That means you’re under mine.And I don’t let what’s mine get chewed up by snakes.”
Her eyes widened at the wordmine, but she didn’t back away.Didn’t fold.Instead, she glared up at him, fire warring with uncertainty.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” she said, her voice steady again.
King’s grin was sharp, dangerous.“Then think of it this way, you don’t belong to anyone, but you’ll stay alive because of me.That enough for you?”
Silence stretched, heavy and heated.Her breath came faster, and King could see the battle playing out in her eyes.Pride against survival, defiance against the pull neither of them could seem to deny.
****
Finally, Lena lookedaway, muttering, “I need some time to think about this.”
King leaned in just enough that his words brushed the shell of her ear, low and rough.“Fine.I’ll give you until the end of the day.
The words lingered long after he left, rumbling in her head like the fading growl of his bike.Lena stood in the empty bar, rag limp in her hand, staring at the door.Her heart thudded hard enough to hurt.
End of the day.Like it was some kind of deadline she couldn’t escape.She scrubbed the counter again, harder than necessary.It was as if cleaning would erase the memory of his dark and commanding voice which was frightening in its certainty.
She hated how it made her shiver, how part of her wasn’t just afraid but alive in a way she hadn’t felt in years.
By the time her shift ended, she was exhausted.Every muscle ached, her nerves stretched thin.But she didn’t go home.She went straight to the hospital.
The sterile smell of disinfectant hit her the moment she stepped through the automatic doors.Lena had grown used to it, but it never got easier.The hallways gleamed under too-bright lights, and the steady beep of machines followed her like a clock counting down time she didn’t have.
Her mother was sitting up in bed when Lena entered, a faded blanket tucked around her legs.Her skin looked paler than yesterday, her cheeks hollow, but her eyes brightened when she saw her daughter.
“Lena.”Her voice was thin but warm, always warm.“You came.”
“Of course I came.”Lena forced a smile, setting her bag on the chair by the bed.“Brought you that tea you like.”
She pulled a thermos out, unscrewing the lid.The steam rose, filling the room with the faint scent of chamomile.Her mom’s hands trembled as she reached for it, so Lena steadied the cup, watching her take a slow sip.
“Better?”Lena asked softly.
Her mom smiled faintly.“Better.”
For a while, Lena sat there, listening to the hum of machines and the faint shuffle of nurses’ shoes outside the door.
She asked about the doctors, about how her mom was feeling, about the new medication they’d started.Her mother answered in bits and pieces, but there was a weariness behind her words that made Lena’s throat tight.
Then, without warning, her mother’s hand reached out and gripped hers with surprising strength.
“Lena,” she said, more urgently now.“Don’t stay at that bar.”
Lena blinked.“What?”
“I heard,” her mother whispered.“The Serpents.The nurses talk, the visitors talk.They’re trouble, Lena.You can’t fight men like that.”
