All Chapters of Claimed By The Biker Kings: Their Forbidden Queen: Chapter 161 - Chapter 167

Chloe’s POVWhen I opened Lucian’s door and found all three of them standing in the hallway, my first instinct was to close it again.I didn’t. But I thought about it.“Is someone dead?” I asked.“No one’s dead,” Lucian said. He was the calmest, which tracked. “Can we come in?”I stepped back and let them in. They filed into the living room and arranged themselves — Lucian on the armchair, Marcus near the window, Dominic leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Like they’d choreographed it. Which, knowing Lucian, they probably had.I sat on the couch, tucked my feet under me, and waited.“We talked,” Lucian began.“I can see that.”“Without fighting,” Marcus added.I looked at Dominic. He raised one shoulder. “Mostly.”“We think the way things are going isn’t working,&rd

Chloe’s POVShe picked up on the second ring, which meant she’d been near her phone. She was always near her phone when she was worried, and she’d been worried about me for months.“Chloe? Baby, it’s late.”“I know. Sorry. I just—” I pulled a pillow into my lap. “I needed to hear your voice.”A small pause. The kind that meant she was setting something down, giving me her full attention. “What’s wrong?”“Nothing’s wrong. I’m okay. I’m safe.” That part was true, at least. “I just have something on my mind.”“Tell me.”I leaned back against the headboard and stared at the water stain on the ceiling tiles. Funny how hotel rooms always had one.“I’ve been seeing someone,” I started.Her whole energy changed in an instant. I could feel it through the phone — the warm

Chloe’s POVThe warehouse smelled like sawdust and machine oil and, faintly, the coffee Marcus had made at some point earlier in the evening. He had a corner of it set up as a living space — a real couch, a proper kitchen area, a bathroom that was cleaner than I expected. The rest was tactical equipment and storage and the general impression that this was a place where a person lived when they were serious about not being found.I sat on the couch wrapped in a blanket someone had pushed into my hands, and I stared at the wall, and I waited for the shaking to stop.It didn’t stop.All three of them were doing things. Marcus was on his phone, quiet and clipped, reporting in to someone. Lucian was cleaning the cut on my arm with careful, precise movements, his brow furrowed slightly. Dominic had made tea, chamomile, from Marcus’s cabinet and set it on the table in front of me like he’d done it a thousand times before.&ld

Marcus’s POVBy evening, the warehouse felt smaller.Not in a bad way. More like the way a space feels when it’s full of people instead of just stuff — the edges closer, the air warmer, the silence less empty. I’d lived alone for two years in this building, and I’d preferred it that way. Preferred knowing where everything was, preferred the quiet, preferred not having to account for anyone else’s presence.Now there were three other people using my kitchen and arguing about what to watch on the laptop, and I wasn’t bothered.That itself was worth thinking about.I pulled up the threat assessment around eight PM and spread it across the table. Chloe’s apartment was compromised. The hotel was obviously out. The rotation system — moving her between three locations had already failed once, and professionally speaking, it would fail again. Variable schedules only bought time. We needed something more