Page 13 of Claimed By The Club

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “We can ask around, see if the MC’s network hears anything. Don’t lose hope.”

Before she can respond, my phone vibrates. I pull it from my pocket, noticing an unknown number on the screen. My pulse jumps. “I gotta take this,” I say. She nods, and I step aside, pressing the device to my ear. “Yeah?”

An unsettling voice crackles through the line—low, almost amused. “We hear you’re protecting a certain fashion entrepreneur. Tell her time’s running out. That money she owes? It’s not the only thing the Reapers want.”

I grip the phone tighter. “Who is this?”

A dark laugh. “Let’s just say we’re close to finding Jen. Sierra better cough up what’s due, or we’ll drag her ex-partner out of hiding and make an example.”

Static buzzes, then the call ends abruptly. Adrenaline surges, sending my heart pounding. I turn, noticing Sierra’s gaze locked on me, eyes wide with concern. She must’ve heard the tension in my voice.

I stride closer, phone still in hand. “That was someone claiming the Iron Reapers are close to finding Jen. They want you to know time’s running out.”

Her face drains of color. “They’re threatening to hurt her if I don’t pay. Or worse.”

I tuck the phone away, resisting the urge to punch something. “We won’t let that happen,” I say firmly. “Let’s get inside, tell Frost and Ghost. We need a plan.”

She nods, swallowing hard. We hurry across the lot, pushing into the clubhouse. The dim interior greets us, and the faint smell of fried food wafts from the kitchen. Ghost stands near the bar, quietly talking with Axel, but he straightens when he sees our expressions.

“What’s wrong?” Ghost—Luke—asks, scanning our faces.

I don’t mince words. “Reapers just called me, said they’re closing in on Jen. They implied Sierra’s on borrowed time.”

Ghost curses under his breath and reaches for a walkie-talkie at his belt. “Frost needs to know ASAP.”

Sierra stands by my side, face pinched with worry, yet her posture remains erect. She might be shaken, but she’s not going to buckle. Ghost radios Frost, who appears moments later, his footsteps echoing on the worn floor. He glances between us, taking in the tension with practiced calm.

I recount the call. Frost’s mouth sets in a grim line. “They’re toying with us,” he says. “Trying to make Sierra panic. We can’t ignore it, though. If they’re close to Jen, they’ll use her as leverage. We need more intel.”

Sierra lifts her chin. “I’ll make calls first thing tomorrow. There are people who might know if Jen’s been sighted anywhere. Maybe we can find her before the Reapers do. She’s not innocent, but I can’t let them torture or kill her.”

Ghost nods once. “We’ll keep watch. If the Reapers are bold enough to call Viper, they might be bold enough to show up here soon.”

Frost studies Sierra, his gaze cool yet protective. “You all right?”

She gives a shaky shrug. “I’m handling it.”

He places a hand on her shoulder—an unusual gesture for him. “Take it one step at a time. We’ve got your back.”

A heaviness settles in the air. This threat just became more tangible, more urgent. My gut churns, imagining the fallout if the Reapers nab Jen first. They’ll probably force her to reveal every detail, making Sierra’s life a prime target.

Sierra exhales slowly, then looks at each of us in turn—Elias, Luke, and me, Carter. Something in her eyes suggests gratitude, but also fear. “I’m glad I’m not facing this alone,” she whispers.

I slip an arm around her midsection, giving a gentle squeeze. Ghost nods, face impassive but voice soft. “Same,” he says. Frost remains close, arms folded, a shield of authority.

We stand in that circle, the four of us bound by necessity and—though none of us says it out loud—something else that’s been growing between us. This is the moment it all changes, the point where Sierra’s trouble intersects fully with Renegade Cross.

I break the silence. “Let’s regroup in the morning. Sierra can reach out to her contacts. We’ll chase down every lead. In the meantime, security stays tight.”

Frost gives me a short nod. “Agreed.”

Ghost checks his phone, stepping aside to send out a text.

Sierra’s shoulders remain tense, but she’s not trembling.

She’s displaying that same unbreakable resolve I’ve seen since the day she first walked in here with designer heels and an urgent plea.

It’s that fire in her that makes me want to protect her at any cost—and also what convinces me she might just transform this entire club if we let her.

We disperse after setting a plan for the night’s watch. Sierra lingers for a moment, her hand still pressed to my side. She’s quiet, but her eyes say everything—she’s worried about Jen, worried about the Reapers, and wrestling with guilt for dragging us into this.

I let my hand slide along her back, offering wordless comfort. “We’ll handle it,” I murmur, voice low. “One problem at a time.”

She nods, then retreats to the safe house with Ghost shadowing her from a distance.

Frost disappears down the hallway, presumably to check in with Knox or finalize tomorrow’s agenda.

I wander outside, the night sky stretching overhead.

My mind spins through strategies, possible outcomes, and the distinct dread of crossing a violent gang.

Despite the churn of unease, I sense a strange confidence.

Sierra’s got grit. She’s turned Bluelight’s finances around in record time and gained the loyalty of men who usually don’t trust newcomers.

She’s forging a path for us to move beyond small-town hustles into something bigger and more stable—if we can survive the storm coming our way.

I look toward the safe house, recalling the fear in her eyes and the determination that countered it.

Protecting her might be risky, but it feels right.

I climb onto a nearby stoop, sinking onto the concrete step.

The desert wind ruffles my hair, carrying the scent of dust and possibility.

The Reapers’ threat looms, but we’re not backing down. Not anymore.

As the stars shimmer overhead, I mull over a notion I can’t shake.

Sierra might be the key to a whole new era for Renegade Cross, a future that doesn’t revolve solely around brawls and backroom deals.

We can have a legitimate empire, and that means a safer life for the brothers—and for her.

The idea sparks hope I haven’t felt in ages.

But first, we need to neutralize the chaos tied to her past. If the Reapers want to bring war, they’ll find out what it means to stand against this club. I’ll do whatever it takes to see that Sierra emerges on the other side, unbroken. That’s a promise I silently make under the desert sky.

I remain there for a while, weighing what comes next.

Tomorrow will bring phone calls, hasty planning, and the possibility of a confrontation.

I’m prepared to face it. I know Ghost and Frost are too.

We might differ in style—Elias keeps his emotions in check, Luke is the silent sentinel, and I’m the one who leaps first—but we all agree on one thing: Sierra’s part of our circle now, and nobody messes with our own.

Not the Iron Reapers, not any rival gang.

Eventually, I push to my feet, dust off my jeans, and head indoors to catch what little sleep I can.

This is the turning point, the moment we transition from quiet collaboration into full-blown battle stance.

If we’re crossing that line, we’ll cross it together, and heaven help anyone who stands in our way.