Page 30 of King's Claim
King stopped dead, his gaze locking on the worn leather, the strap frayed where it had torn loose.His chest constricted so tight he could barely breathe.That bag had been on her shoulder every damn time he’d seen her.Now it lay here like a discarded piece of her.
“What the fuck happened?”King’s voice was low, lethal.
Rage’s jaw worked, but the words came slow.“She arrived at the parking lot, like always.I thought it was clear.I stepped out for a smoke, just five minutes—”
“Five minutes?”King shot his hand out before he thought better of it, fist colliding with Rage’s jaw.The younger man staggered back, spitting blood, but didn’t raise a hand in defense.
“You had one goddamn job,” King snarled, advancing a step.His vision blurred red at the edges, muscles coiled with the need to hit him again, to hit something until the world stopped spinning.
Rage wiped his mouth, shame written all over his face.“I fucked up, Prez.I know I did,” Rage whispered.
King’s knuckles ached from the impact, but the fury boiling inside him didn’t dim.He stared at the bag on the gravel, the strap stained with a streak of dirt, and felt something crack deep inside his chest.
This was his fault.He’d let her walk away.He’d convinced himself she’d be safer out of his world, out from under the Devil’s Crown’s shadow.He’d let her think she was a weakness to him.
And now the Serpents had her.The thought made his gut twist, violent and ugly.King could picture Riker’s smirk, those filthy hands reaching for her, the way Lena would try to fight, because of course she would fight.The Serpents would make her pay for it.
“Prez,” Viper’s voice cut through the storm, steady as always.He came up beside King, his eyes hard but calm, the perfect foil to King’s brewing hurricane.“We’ll get her back.”
King dragged a hand down his face, forcing his breathing to steady.He couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.“Do we know where they took her?”
“Not yet,” Viper admitted.“But we’ve got eyes on their clubhouse.Serpents’ve been strutting louder than usual lately, bragging about making moves.If they’ve got her, odds are that’s where she is.They’ll want to show off.”
King’s jaw clenched.Of course they would.Parading her in front of their brothers, treating her like leverage, a trophy.Anger swelled inside him again, nearly choking him.
Rage stepped forward, still holding his split lip.“Prez, let me—”
“Shut your mouth,” King snapped.The younger man froze.For a moment, silence stretched, thick with tension.Then King exhaled, the fury draining just enough for his voice to lower.
“You’re coming.You fucked up, so you’ll be there to fix it.You’ll fight harder than anyone else, or I’ll bury you myself,” King said.
Rage nodded quickly, relief and fear mixing on his face.
King crouched and picked up Lena’s bag, brushing the dirt from it with rough fingers.The leather was warm from the sun, faintly carrying her scent—vanilla, coffee, something distinctively her.
His throat tightened as he straightened, the weight of the bag heavy in his hand.Lena wasn’t just some woman who’d crossed his path.She wasn’t a weakness.She was the only damn thing that had made him feel alive in years.
If the Serpents thought they could take her from him, they’d just signed their own death warrants.
He turned to his men, voice carrying like steel across the lot.“Gear up.We ride in twenty.Vests, ammo, everything.We’re not going in quiet.”
Viper gave a short nod, already pulling his phone to rally the others.“You got it, Prez.”
King stalked back toward the garage, Lena’s bag clutched tight.Each step felt heavier, dragging him down into the dark place he’d lived too long.But beneath the fury was something sharper, clearer.
This wasn’t about territory.This wasn’t about MC pride.This was about Lena.
He’d let her think she didn’t matter to him.He’d let her walk away because he’d been too much of a coward to admit what she was to him.And now she was gone, but not for long.
King shoved open the garage door, the familiar scent of motor oil and steel filling his nose.His men were already moving fast, pulling weapons from the racks, strapping on vests.
Rage tightened his gloves with grim determination.Viper loaded a shotgun, his face unreadable but his eyes burning.
King tossed Lena’s bag onto his workbench, its presence there a stark reminder of what was at stake.He stared at it for a long moment, then looked back at his men.
“They took what’s mine,” King said, the words rough, final.“And we’re taking her back.I don’t care how many bodies it takes.I don’t care if we burn their clubhouse to the ground.No one touches her and breathes.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, hard and deadly.
