All Chapters of Claimed By The Biker Kings: Their Forbidden Queen: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

Jake’s POVMy sister answered the door looking like she hadn’t slept properly in a week.She was in a hoodie that was definitely too big to be hers, holding a mug of tea, and her hair was up in the kind of bun that meant she’d stopped thinking about it. She looked at me standing on her doorstep with my bag and her expression went through surprise, then relief, then something that was dangerously close to the face she used to make when we were kids and she’d been holding something difficult for too long and someone finally asked.“Jake,” she said. “What are you doing here?”“You weren’t answering my calls properly.” I picked up my bag. “So I booked a flight.”“That’s…” She stepped back to let me in. “That’s a dramatic response to unanswered calls.”“You’re my sister. Dramatic is proportional.” I looked around her apartment. Books out, notepad on the coffee table covered in writing, the specific energy of a space where someone had been thinking very hard for a very long time. “You look

Lucian’s POVI called Chloe on a Thursday afternoon from my office, between a twelve-hour shift and whatever came after it.She picked up on the third ring, slightly breathless, like she’d been moving. “Hey. Is everything okay?”“Everything’s fine,” I said. “Can you come over tonight?”A pause. I’d learned to read her pauses. This one was cautious but not afraid. “Sure. What time?”“Seven. I’ll order food.”“You’re ordering food? You always cook.”“Tonight I’m ordering food,” I said. “Seven o’clock, Chloe.”She came at seven, like I knew she would. She was in jeans and that leather jacket again, which I’d privately begun to think of as her armor — not in a bad way, but in the way that some people had objects that made them feel like themselves. I took her jacket and she sat on the couch and looked at me with that careful, reading-the-room expression she’d developed over the past months.“You have a face,” she said.“I have my regular face.”“You have your specific face. The one you us

Alina’s POVI called Ronan from the airport.He picked up on the first ring, which meant he’d been watching the flight tracker, which was deeply predictable and also quietly lovely.“How is she?” he asked.“Getting there,” I said. “She needed to hear it from someone who’d been through it. Not the advice version — the actual honest version.”“Did you give her the actual honest version?”“I told her I ran. That I sat in my father’s penthouse and tried to force myself back into a life that didn’t fit anymore. That I was terrified the whole time.” I found my gate and sat down. “I told her the truth. That brave isn’t the absence of fear — it’s doing it anyway.”A pause. “How did she take it?”“She’s still processing,” I said. “But she’s close. Closer than she was yesterday.” I leaned back. “She’s been holding herself to a version of me that I’ve never actually been. The idea that I just accepted everything smoothly and moved forward without falling apart.” A beat. “I don’t know where that

Marcus’s POVWe spent the weekend at my warehouse.Not romantically. I want to be clear about that. It was approximately as romantic as a project planning session, which is to say not at all, and was also the most honest thing we’d done since Chloe had shown up at the hotel two months ago with her notepad and her pros and cons list.Saturday morning I made breakfast — the proper kind, not the post-crisis kind and we sat at the table and I put a notepad in the center of it and said, “Logistics.”Chloe looked at the notepad. Then at me. “Right now?”“The sooner the better. Before the feelings get in the way of the planning.”“That’s very you,” Dominic said.“Yes,” I agreed. “That’s why I said it.”Lucian, to his credit, already had his own notes on his phone, which he set face-up on the table without being asked. “I made a list of questions on Tuesday,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for an appropriate time.”“Of course you did,” Chloe said, and she was smiling slightly despite herself. “O

Lucian’s POVThe therapist’s name was Dr. Sandra Osei, and she had the specific energy of someone who had heard everything and was genuinely not going to be surprised by anything we said.She had a warm office — plants, soft lighting, two couches arranged in an L-shape, a chair for her across from them. It looked like a place designed to make people comfortable enough to say difficult things. I noticed all of this in the first thirty seconds because noticing things was how I managed situations I wasn’t fully in control of.We arrived in the same car, which had been Chloe’s suggestion and was either a good idea or a recipe for a very tense fifteen-minute drive, depending on how you looked at it. Dominic had been quiet the whole way. Marcus had been measuring. I had been preparing questions in the back of my mind that I suspected the therapist would render irrelevant within the first ten minutes.Dr. Osei looked at all four of us settling onto the two couches — Chloe between me and Marc