All Chapters of Claimed by the Mafia Biker: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The treeline swallowed us, Nova clutching Isla, every step a careful calculation. My ribs screamed with pain, my shoulder throbbed from the knife graze, but none of that mattered. Not now. Not while they were alive and with me.Blade brought up the rear, silent as ever, eyes scanning the darkness, muscles coiled like a spring. “We’re not safe yet,” he murmured, voice low, threading through the night.I nodded, every nerve alert. “I know. That shadow…he didn’t leave.”“Good,” Blade said, almost a grin in his tone. “Means he has a reason. And we’ll know it soon enough.”Nova glanced at me, pale in the moonlight. “Cruz…you okay?”I forced a smile, though it was raw, jagged. “I will be. Just…keep Isla close.”She nodded, stepping closer, tiny body pressed against mine. Isla yawned quietly, exhausted but unaware of the danger still brushing against the edges of the forest.A rustle—soft, deliberate—made me freeze. My hand went to the gun at my hip, eyes scanning the shadows between trees.

The forest felt alive. Every crack of a branch, every whisper of leaves, set my nerves on fire. Isla clung to Nova’s side, tiny hands gripping her jacket like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to safety. Blade and I moved in near silence, the only sounds the soft padding of boots on dirt and the occasional distant cry of an animal startled by our passage.I could feel it before I saw it—a cold, calculated awareness brushing against the back of my neck. That presence hadn’t vanished. It had merely repositioned, waiting for the perfect moment. Waiting for me to make a mistake.“Cruz,” Blade muttered, voice low, cutting through the tension. “He’s close. Too close. Eyes on us, always watching. We can’t afford to split up, not even a step.”I nodded, tightening the grip on the gun I had set aside earlier. My ribs throbbed, still aching from the last fight, but the pain was secondary. Nova’s safety, Isla’s life, were primary. Everything else—every ache, every worry, every shadow—wa

Dawn was a thin line of gray over the horizon, casting long, ghostly shadows across the clearing. The forest still smelled of gunpowder and sweat, the echoes of the night’s battle lingering in every twisted branch and trampled leaf.Nova held Isla close, both of them trembling, but alive. I pressed my hand to my ribs—every breath reminded me of the knife, the shot, the way death had brushed past me—but there was no time to linger on pain. Not yet.Blade scanned the perimeter, eyes sharp, every muscle taut. “We need to move. Now,” he said, voice low, commanding. “There’s no telling how long he’s watched, how many others he has waiting.”I nodded, still catching my breath. “Agreed. But first…” My gaze swept the forest, catching the remnants of our battle: boots, knives, scattered Hellborn jackets. Every piece a story of near-death, of choices made in a heartbeat. “We need a plan. We can’t just run blindly.”Nova lifted her head, brushing mud from her cheek, eyes fierce even through the

The night had a weight to it, heavy and suffocating, the kind that presses down on your lungs until every breath feels like fire. I kept my eyes on the treeline, hand tight around my gun, every sense screaming. Blade moved beside me, silent, lethal, a shadow of his own making, while Nova and Isla huddled closer behind me, their warmth both a comfort and a reminder of what was at stake.The clearing was eerily quiet now. The last of Rafe’s men had either fled or surrendered, their fear still raw and clinging. But the forest had shifted. The shadows stretched longer, twisting unnaturally as if the night itself had teeth.I tightened my jaw. “Something’s here,” I muttered, voice low.Blade’s eyes flicked to the treeline, sharp and calculating. “I feel it too,” he said, fingers tightening on the knife. “Not him. Not the reminder. Something else. Bigger. Smarter.”Nova’s hand found mine, tiny fingers squeezing. “Cruz…what do we do?”I forced a steadying breath. “We wait. Watch. Don’t move

The forest swallowed us as we moved. The deeper we went, the heavier the air felt, like the night was pressing its palm against my chest. Cruz walked ahead of me, blood soaking through his shirt, but he kept pretending he was fine. Blade stayed behind us, silent, tense, scanning every side like something might jump out again.I kept Isla pressed to my chest. She was trembling. I could feel her tiny heartbeat against my skin.“Cruz… slow down,” I whispered.He didn’t. “We need distance,” he muttered. “That thing didn’t die easy. I don’t trust that silence.”His voice sounded low and dangerous, but I heard the pain underneath. “You’re bleeding again.”“I said I’m fine.”“You’re not,” I snapped, louder than I meant to.He stopped immediately. Turned to me slowly. His eyes—dark, sharp, exhausted—locked onto mine.“Nova,” he said quietly, “if I slow down, if I stop right now… I won’t get up again. So let me move.”My chest tightened. “Then let me help—”“You holding Isla is help.” He s