Page 1 of King's Claim
Chapter One
The jukebox had beenbroken for three nights straight, which meant the only soundtrack inside The Pit Stop was the rattle of ice in cheap glasses and the buzz of a neon beer sign that refused to die.
Lena wiped down the counter for the third time in an hour, more out of nervous energy than necessity.Her feet ached in her scuffed sneakers, calves cramping after another twelve-hour shift.
The night was slow, but that didn’t mean she could sit.Rick, the absentee owner, had rules about bartenders looking “busy” even when there was nothing left to do.
Not that Lena needed to be reminded.Sitting meant thinking and thinking meant panic.
She’d been running numbers in her head all day, the tips, wages, what she might get if she pawned her grandmother’s locket.Her mother’s hospital bill loomed like a guillotine.
They’d been late last month, and the woman in billing had already given her a look that suggested compassion was running out.Lena had learned long ago that medical systems didn’t care about sob stories, only zeroes on the end of checks.
She scrubbed harder at a water ring, her throat tightening.If she could stretch this paycheck, if she begged Rick for one more shift, maybe she could cover at least part of it.Her mother deserved better than constant worry while she lay recovering.
The bell above the door jangled, and Lena’s head snapped up.The Pit Stop was practically empty, just two truckers nursing beers and a couple on the verge of an argument over the pool table.It was late enough she’d been hoping to close early.
Instead, three men stepped in, wearing smirks that never reached their eyes.Leather cuts with a snake coiled around a dagger stitched across their backs announced exactly who they were before she even saw the patch letters.
Iron Serpents MC.Her stomach clenched.
She’d heard stories.Everyone in town had.The Serpents weren’t the kind of bikers who bought a round of drinks, told loud stories, and rode out with a laugh.They were the kind who demanded payment for “protection,” who left tire tracks and blood in their wake.
The biggest of the three stalked toward the bar, heavy boots ringing against the sticky floorboards.He smelled of smoke and cheap whiskey, though she doubted he’d had a drink tonight.His eyes were sharp, glittering with the kind of mean focus only sober cruelty carried.
“Evenin’, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning on the counter as if he owned it.His knuckles were bruised, a crude serpent tattoo twisting across one hand.“Pour us a round of whatever’s top shelf.On the house.”
Lena kept her face neutral, though her pulse skittered.She’d learned how to deal with drunks, with rowdy boys on Friday nights, with the occasional grabby hand.However, this was different.These men weren’t just customers.They were a threat wrapped in leather and arrogance.
Still, she reached for glasses, keeping her hands steady even as her chest tightened.“Top shelf isn’t free.”
The two at the back chuckled.The leader’s smirk widened.
“You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”He leaned closer, so near she caught the scent of stale tobacco on his breath.“We’re not asking.We’re collecting.”
“Collecting?”she repeated, though she already knew.
“Taxes,” one of the others said, voice slick with mockery.“Cost of doin’ business in Serpent territory.You want this place still standing next week, you pay.”
Her grip on the bottle tightened.Rick hadn’t warned her about this.He hadn’t told her the Serpents had come sniffing around.Maybe he thought his bar wasn’t worth their attention, or maybe he hadn’t cared.He was never the one left on late shifts dealing with trouble.
“I don’t own the place,” she said, carefully even.“You’ll have to talk to Rick about that.”
The leader laughed, low and mean.“Funny thing, sweetheart.We didn’t ask for Rick.We asked you.”
Her pulse thudded.“I don’t have money,” she stated.
“You’ve got somethin’ better.”His gaze swept her slowly, deliberately, pausing at her chest, then dropping lower.The way his eyes lingered made her skin crawl.“Why don’t you smile pretty, pour those drinks, and maybe we work out a ...payment plan.”
The others snickered.
Heat flushed her cheeks, but not the kind he wanted.Lena forced herself to set the bottle down instead of smashing it against his face like her instincts demanded.Her mother’s voice echoed in her head.Pick your battles, baby.Survive first, fight later.
Her jaw tightened.“Get out.”
The laughter cut off.The man’s eyes went cold, mean glint sharpening like a blade.He leaned in until his shadow swallowed her across the bar.
“Careful,” he murmured.“You don’t tell the Serpents no.Not unless you’re looking to bleed.”
