Page 38 of Claimed By The Club

SIERRA

I pace the dusty walkway outside the clubhouse, arms crossed, inhaling the fading aroma of gunpowder and smoke.

After everything that happened yesterday—Jen’s capture, Knox’s betrayal, Marian’s injury—my mind still won’t settle.

The sun creeps over the horizon, bathing the compound in a new day’s light.

Despite the crisp air, I feel stifled by memories of that final confrontation.

I hesitate near a stack of discarded boards, catching a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby window.

My hair is tousled, skin smudged with dust that refuses to wash away entirely.

Anxiety simmers beneath my composure. We’re finally free of Jen’s relentless sabotage, but the fallout echoes in every corner.

Knox turned out to be yet another traitor.

Our safe circle fractured again. And still, the club stands, just as battered as I feel.

A voice calls out from behind me. I whirl to see Viper—Carter—standing at the threshold, arms resting on the doorframe. His sandy-blond hair is tied back, exposing faint bruises along his jaw. He eyes me for a moment, concern reflecting in his gaze.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks quietly, stepping forward.

“I tried,” I admit, rubbing my neck. “Kept seeing Marian on the ground, Knox pointing that gun at me, Jen glaring. It’s a loop I can’t shake.”

He offers a sad smile, motioning me to come along to the clubhouse porch. “Everyone’s on edge. We lost some illusions about who we could trust.”

I swallow. “Yeah.”

We walk side by side until we reach the battered picnic table near the fence. The wood is splintered, showing bullet scars from past skirmishes. I run a finger over one groove, shivering at the reminder of how close we came to total disaster. Viper leans against the table, posture tense.

He clears his throat. “Frost and Ghost want to meet with you soon, once we confirm Marian’s condition. She’s stable but still in the hospital.”

My chest tightens. “I need to see her.”

“You will,” he promises. “Doc said she pulled through surgery fine. No organ damage. Lucky break, all things considered.”

Relief seeps into my gut. If Marian hadn’t intervened, I’d be the one lying in a hospital bed—or worse. She risked her life to protect me, and I owe her more than I can express. “I’m going there as soon as they allow visitors,” I vow.

Viper nods. “We all plan to visit in shifts.” His eyes dart around, scanning the yard, then back to me. “Look, some of the guys worried you might blame yourself. Because that fiasco started with Jen calling you out.”

“Isn’t it partly my fault?” I whisper. “Knox said he stole from the club’s accounts, that I would figure it out. So he teamed up with her for a bigger payout. If I hadn’t come here with missing funds in the first place?—”

A steady stouch holds onto my shoulder. “Stop.” His tone is gentle but firm. “We made our choices. Knox could’ve come clean. Jen never had to sabotage you. Don’t take the blame for their greed.”

I inhale, letting his words settle. Deep down, guilt still gnaws, but I appreciate his reassurance.

Viper’s presence grounds me, reminding me I’m not alone in this chaos.

We stand in companionable silence until footsteps crunch behind us.

Turning, I see Ghost approaching with measured steps.

His ash-blond hair glints in the morning sun, expression guarded as usual.

He offers a short nod in greeting. “Marian’s out of immediate danger. Frost is at the hospital now. He’ll be back soon.” Then his gaze flickers between me and Viper. “How’s everyone holding up here?”

“Better, I guess,” Viper answers, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Sierra and I were just talking about the aftermath.”

Ghost looks at me intently, voice low. “You holding on?”

“I’m trying,” I say, exhaustion creeping into my tone. “I feel like everything should be easier now that Jen’s out of the picture, but it’s not. The club’s rattled, we took injuries, Marian’s in the hospital, and we lost another piece of trust with Knox’s betrayal.”

A slight furrow mars Ghost’s brow. “We’ll recover. The MC’s survived worse. You’re part of that now—part of us.”

The weight of his words sends a pang of gratitude through me. I’m part of this brotherhood, yet I fear I’ve done more harm than good. My stomach twists with leftover guilt. “Sometimes I wonder if my presence is dividing you all.”

He shakes his head, stepping closer. “It’s not. We’d have had to face a traitor’s greed eventually, with or without you. We’re stronger having you stand with us instead of running.”

Before I can respond, the clubhouse door swings open.

Frost emerges, dark hair ruffled by the wind, lines of fatigue and relief etched around his blue eyes.

My chest tightens at the sight of him—President of this battered MC, who took on my burdens the moment I arrived.

He crosses the yard, ignoring everyone else, gaze locked on me.

“Marian’s stable,” he says, voice thick with relief. “Doc says she’ll recover fully. Might take time, but no permanent damage.”

I exhale, tears of gratitude prickling. “Thank goodness. I— I need to see her.”

He nods. “We’ll head over soon. She asked for you.” Frost glances at Viper and Ghost, then back to me, tension flickering in his eyes. “But first, the club wants to talk to you.”

A tremor runs through my limbs. “They do?”

He steps closer, slipping his arm around my waist. “Most of them. A few are still on perimeter duty, but the rest are inside. They want to make sure you understand something.”

Unease ripples. “Are they… blaming me?” My pulse quickens at the possibility.

Frost’s grip tightens protectively. “No. If anything, they’re worried you might blame yourself. They just want you to know where you stand.”

I swallow, glancing between Viper and Ghost, who each offer small nods of encouragement.

Finally, I steel myself and follow Frost into the clubhouse.

Inside, the stale air and dim lighting hit me with a wave of memory—secret meetings, tense announcements, revelations of betrayal.

But this time, the mood is different. Men gather around, some seated, some leaning against battered furniture. Conversations hush the moment we enter.

Axel stands near the pool table, arms folded, looking worn but resolute. A few patched members wait in scattered positions, each bearing the scars of recent violence—bandaged arms, bruised faces, heavy fatigue. Yet they fix their attention on me with a strange mix of warmth and worry.

Frost pauses at my side, his presence solid. “All right, folks. Sierra’s here.”

I shift, swallowing the dryness in my throat.

Before I can speak, Axel steps forward, clearing his voice.

“We just wanted to say thanks. You’ve taken bullets for us—literally.

Shot at traitors, risked your life, helped track stolen funds, and endured more than a city girl should. But you never ran. That means a lot.”

A low murmur of agreement spreads. Iron nods. “Could’ve bailed the second it got hot. But you stayed. We respect that.”

Heat blooms in my chest, tears threatening. “I— I appreciate that. But I can’t help thinking some of this damage is my fault.”

Iron frowns. “No, ma’am. Knox and Snake were rotten from the inside. They’d have turned on us eventually. Jen just gave them a reason. You actually flushed them out quicker.”

Surprise silences me. I expected bitterness, not acceptance. Another member—Rook, if I recall—chimes in. “We see your loyalty. You helped us spot the Reapers’ infiltration. You put your own neck on the line. You’re part of this club now, Sierra.”

My heart jumps, overwhelmed by their unity. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Axel’s stern expression softens. “Then don’t say anything. Just know we stand by you. We want you here—if you’ll stay.”

I glance at Frost, who watches with a quiet intensity. Ghost and Viper flank me, silent pillars of support. The rest of the men wait for my response, and I sense the gravity of this moment. The MC is extending an olive branch, acknowledging me not as an outsider but as family.

Tears burn my eyes. “Thank you,” I manage, voice trembling. “I’ve been so scared that I’m dividing you. I don’t want to tear this club apart.”

Rook snorts. “We’re tougher than that. We don’t break so easily.” A few men chuckle. Tension lifts, replaced by a cautious camaraderie.

I wipe at my cheeks, half-laughing, half-crying. “I’ve never belonged anywhere like this,” I admit. “Even in my old life, success felt… lonely. Here, even with the danger, I feel more alive.”

Iron dips his head. “That’s what we are. A family, thrown together by necessity and choice. We stand for each other, no matter how rough it gets.”

A hush follows his words. The men offer small nods. My chest feels too tight, a swirl of gratitude and relief threatening to drown me. Finally, Frost steps back in, his voice calmer than it’s been in days. “All right, let’s give Sierra a break. She’s got a friend to visit in the hospital.”

Axel grins, the first real grin I’ve seen from him in a while. “Go on. We’ll hold the fort.”

The crowd disperses, men returning to post-battle chores or grabbing a moment’s rest. I stand there, speechless, until Viper and Ghost lead me away from the lounge. Frost follows, hand light on my shoulder.

We slip outside, bright sunlight stinging my eyes. My emotions roil, an odd mixture of relief, gratitude, and lingering fear. The reality of the last few days still weighs on me, but the MC’s acceptance feels like fresh air in my lungs.

“See?” Viper murmurs, voice warm. “They don’t blame you.”

Ghost nods. “They worry you’ll blame yourself. But we’re all in this together.”

A tremulous smile curves my lips. “I—I can’t believe they want me to stay.”

Frost steps in front of me, corners of his mouth lifting in a rare, genuine smile. “I can,” he says. “Because we do.”