Page 26 of Claimed By The Club

SIERRA

I ’m alone in the small side office, watching a digital clock on the desk tick away the minutes.

Papers from this morning’s meeting are scattered around: charts detailing last week’s bar earnings, lists of members assigned to watch shifts, and a few proposals for expanding our new merch line.

My eyes skim the numbers without registering them, my mind too preoccupied by the swirling tension in the clubhouse.

Word about a traitor has traveled quickly, fueling a steady hum of paranoia in every corridor.

People who once gathered in easy camaraderie now exchange guarded glances, uncertain who might be feeding the Reapers information.

It’s a heavy weight, and the realization that my name keeps popping up in those leaked details only magnifies the anxiety.

I push to my feet and scoop up the papers, intending to file them away in the back room.

But as I step into the hallway, I hear laughter—high-pitched, a little cruel.

The sound sets my nerves on edge. Turning the corner, I spot three women in tight denim and leather vests, leaning against a wall covered in old club photos.

They stop talking the instant they see me, their eyes cutting in my direction.

One of them, a tall blonde, arches an eyebrow. “Oh, look, it’s the VIP guest of the hour.”

The second, a brunette with a half-shaved head—snickers. “Enjoying the special treatment, princess?”

There’s no kindness in their tone. My throat tightens. These must be a few of the biker groupies who hang around, hoping to score attention from club members. I try for a polite nod, not wanting trouble. “Evening,” I say, moving to walk past them.

They block my way, exchanging smirks. The third, a woman with curly red hair, tilts her head. “Word is you’re getting real cozy with certain high-ranking men.” She rolls her eyes. “Guess any outsider can waltz in and stir things up.”

Heat flares in my chest. “I’m just doing my job, trying to help?—”

The redhead snorts. “Sure you are. Meanwhile, Church meetings are getting tense. Fights breaking out, accusations flying. Everyone’s whispering that it’s ‘cause of you. Maybe you’re dividing them.”

That accusation hits like a punch. I swallow, heart pounding. “I’m not trying to cause conflict. The Reapers are the real enemy. We’re trying to protect?—”

The tall blonde waves me off. “Don’t care about your sob story. Just letting you know people see the strain you’re causing. Maybe you should vanish before it gets worse.”

Her words slash at my composure, but I refuse to let them see me crumble. I gather the papers tighter against my chest. “Thanks for the advice,” I say stiffly. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

They laugh, turning away to murmur among themselves, and I slip past, fighting the urge to run. My cheeks burn, a mix of anger, shame, and genuine worry that maybe they’re right. The club has been on edge since I arrived, and with the suspicion of a traitor, everything’s magnified.

I leave the papers in a filing cabinet, then hurry out to the main lounge.

A few men stand in clusters, talking in hushed voices.

They glance up, but I quickly break eye contact, anxious to find Frost before I lose my nerve.

Since the traitor rumors began swirling, he’s been juggling crises, rarely stopping to talk to me.

Part of me wonders if he’s avoiding me on purpose.

I stride down a corridor leading to an office space typically used for higher-level discussions.

At the far end, I spot Frost closing a door behind Axel.

Axel walks off in another direction, leaving Frost alone.

My heart pounds as I approach. His gaze sweeps over me, a flicker of concern crossing those ice-blue eyes.

“Sierra?” he says quietly, stepping aside so I can enter the small office. It’s sparsely furnished—a desk, a single chair, and a shelf stacked with old ledgers. The door shuts behind us with a soft click.

I inhale sharply, determined not to let fear or doubt control me. “We need to talk,” I say, setting my shoulders.

Frost runs a hand through his hair, tension radiating from him. “Yeah, we do.”

I swallow, glancing at the scuffed floor. “Things have been chaotic. People are whispering that I’m dividing the club. And you… you haven’t been around me much lately. I keep wondering if you’re upset.”

His jaw tightens, and he steps closer, voice low. “I’m not upset. I’m just busy, trying to figure out who’s betraying us, making sure the Reapers don’t slip in and grab you. It’s a lot to handle.”

I force myself to meet his gaze. “I thought you might be keeping distance because of… because I kissed Viper.” My cheeks heat. “And Ghost.”

He exhales, a slow wave of tension leaving his shoulders. “I know about it.”

My eyes widen. “You’re not mad?”

His lips twitch in a wry smile. “I told you before: we share more than most people realize. You’re part of us, in your own way, and we’re fine with that. I’m not avoiding you out of jealousy.”

Relief washes through me, but embarrassment lingers. “I was afraid you’d hate me for crossing those lines.”

He shakes his head, stepping even closer until the warmth of his body invades my personal space.

“I’m not walking away from you,” he murmurs, voice thick with quiet intensity.

“I’m preoccupied with this traitor situation, and I don’t want to give certain members more reason to gossip right now.

That’s why I’ve been keeping things low-key. ”

My pulse thuds in my ears. “So you do still—” I struggle to find the words. “You still want this?”

His eyes narrow with an undercurrent of heat.

“Yes,” he says simply, then cups my face in his hands, leaning down to press his mouth to mine.

The touch sends a jolt of longing through my veins, all the pent-up tension unraveling in a heady rush.

I grip the front of his cut, kissing him back with equal fervor, as if trying to make up for lost time.

We break apart, breath ragged. His forehead rests against mine.

“Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten about you,” he whispers.

“But let me handle the club politics. We can’t give the gossips more ammunition.

I think you’re the one that needs to ready yourself.

You don’t know what you’re in for… with the three of us. ”

I nod, still dizzy from the taste of him. “Okay.”

He brushes a thumb over my cheek. “Viper and Ghost can stay close to you, keep guard, while I handle the bigger picture. I trust them. And I trust you.”

Emotions swell in my chest—gratitude, relief, longing. “Thank you.”

He straightens, releasing me reluctantly. “I need to go. We’re holding another meeting soon. Just remember, I’m right here, even if I’m not by your side every minute.”

I bite my lip, wanting to drag him back in for another searing kiss, but I restrain myself. “I understand.”

He gives a final nod, stepping away. I watch him open the door and vanish into the corridor, returning to the chaos of running this club. My heart still hammers from that brief moment of closeness, the reminder that someone else is experiencing this tangle of confusion with me.

I linger in the quiet office for a few beats, trying to collect my thoughts.

The warmth of Frost’s kiss hovers on my lips, though the echo of the groupies’ mocking words tries to drown it out: They said I’m driving a wedge among the members.

What if that’s true? If the men keep focusing on me—protecting me, exploring these relationships—will it weaken the unity Renegade Cross needs to fight the Reapers?

With a sigh, I step out, wandering the hallway.

Rounding a corner, I nearly bump into Ghost—Luke.

His gray eyes dart over me, noting my flushed cheeks.

He arches an eyebrow, probably suspecting I just saw Frost. My stomach flips, recalling that moment he walked in on me and Viper. Everything is so tangled.

“Hey,” he says quietly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “You okay?”

I attempt a shaky smile. “Yeah. Just… had a talk with Frost.”

He nods, waiting for me to elaborate.

“He’s not mad,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “About… everything. But he’s occupied with club leadership.”

A flicker of relief softens Ghost’s features. “That’s good.”

I clench my fists at my sides. “Except people are talking. I heard from some groupies that members are fighting. Apparently, I’m the reason.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not your fault. This traitor business is making everyone paranoid.”

I shrug, tears pricking my eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m destabilizing the club. Maybe I should leave before something worse happens.”

Ghost’s expression darkens. He steps closer, scanning my face as if searching for a sign that I’m joking. “You think running is a solution? The Reapers want you. If you go alone, you’ll be vulnerable.”

I swallow. “Better me alone than dragging you all into a war.”

A storm flickers in his gaze. “We’d be in this war regardless. You’re not the cause; you’re the catalyst. We needed to confront the Reapers eventually. Don’t blame yourself.”

He’s standing so close that I can feel the heat of his body. Memories of that night I nearly got snatched at Dolly’s store flare in my mind, and how Ghost protected me with lethal efficiency. “I just hate that people think I’m dividing you,” I murmur.

Ghost exhales, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Focus on who matters: Frost, Viper, me, Axel, Knox, and the ones you know support you. The rest can talk all they want.”

I want to believe him, but the seed of doubt remains. Still, his reassurance helps. “Thanks,” I whisper.

He offers a small nod, then straightens. “I’m heading out to check the perimeter. Stay near your safe house or in the lounge, all right?”

I nod. “Be careful.”