Todos los capítulos de Claimed By The Biker King: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

SableMarcus didn’t wait until noon or ease us in with a tour.He walked in right after breakfast, looked at the three of us standing near the back lot—me, Nixx, and Smitty—and pointed to the picnic table under the awning.“Sit your asses down.”We obeyed, though the tension was thick enough to cut with a blade. Nixx stretched out like he owned the place. Smitty leaned back with his arms crossed, smirking. I stayed quiet, eyes sharp.Marcus dropped a thick manila envelope on the table. “Today is November seventh. You’ve got until New Year’s Eve to make this work.”“Make what work?” Smitty asked, brow raised.Marcus tapped the envelope. “Your fundraiser.”Nixx groaned. “You gotta be shitting me. We’re not here to sell cookies.”“You’re here to prove you’re worth more than free labor,” Marcus snapped. “And the club wants more than muscle this time. You want in? You show me you can plan, execute, and deliver. That means coordinating an event that raises money and earns goodwill. From ide

SableThat man was infuriating.Who the fuck did he think he was?Like just because every other woman dropped to her knees and slobbered all over him, I would too? Please. He could go bark up a different tree. One with lower standards and no self-respect.I wasn’t some broken little groupie desperate to be noticed. I didn’t want his scraps. I didn’t want his attention. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to compete with the next willing mouth just to stay on his radar.Let him make that call.Let him chase Tori or Tanya or Tiffany or whoever-the-fuck was willing to suck him dry for another chance at a warm bed and bragging rights. I didn’t care.…Except I did.Not because I wanted him.Because I hated the game. I hated that he knew exactly how to get under my skin and twist. That he could make me feel something—heat, rage, ache—and then walk away like he hadn’t lit the whole damn matchbook.Fine, I told myself, storming into the kitchen and yanking open the fridge. If he wanted me gone, i

Luke“You found me?” I repeated, the words stiff in my throat.Cassandra’s smile flickered—just a crack. A flicker of something behind her eyes. Guilt? Panic? Whatever it was, it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.“Well,” she said slowly, setting her fork down, “I mean… I was the one who discovered you, yes.”My blood turned cold. “Discovered me?”“Luke, come on.” She let out a light, nervous laugh. “Does it really matter who did what? You were hurt. I stayed with you until help arrived—”“No.” I leaned forward, voice low and hard. “That night. The cartel job gone sideways. You told me that moment was when you knew we were meant to be. That you saved me.”Her smile thinned. “I—I was there. I waited for help.”“But you didn’t get me out of the trap.” My eyes bore into hers. “You didn’t wrap my gashes. Did you?”She stared at me for a long moment, then exhaled. “No.”I sat back, fists tightening. “So for the last three years, I’ve believed you saved my life. The club believed it.

  Sable I didn’t expect him to knock. Not after everything. Not after what I read. Not after the way I fled his office like I’d touched fire and couldn’t decide whether to run from it or burn. But there he was—fist raised, waiting on the other side of my door like a man asking permission to enter his own fate. I hesitated before opening. Just long enough to breathe. When I finally pulled it open, Jarek stood there—not the president of the Daggers, not the gruff biker with a thousand

JarekShe asked for them.Not demanded. Not pressured. Just… asked. Like she already knew what she was taking and was willing to carry the weight of it anyway.That was the part that wrecked me.I’ve handed men guns. Power. Orders that sent them into blood and fire without blinking. But that journal? Those pages? They weren’t meant for anyone. Especially not her.And still—I didn’t hesitate.Because when Sable Arden looks at you like that, like she’s standing on the edge of a truth she didn’t know she was allowed to want, you don’t lie. You don’t hide. You don’t tuck your heart back behind the kutte and pretend it never beat in the first place.You either give her the truth…or you lose her for real this time.I went straight to my office.Didn’t talk to anyone. Didn’t slow down. Because if I did, I’d start thinking. And thinking would turn into doubt, and doubt would turn into the same old pattern—control, silence, restraint disguised as strength.The drawer stuck like it always did.