Page 22 of King's Claim
Chapter Seven
With shaking hands, Lena yanked her duffel bag out of the small room she’d been using in the clubhouse.The zipper caught, and she cursed under her breath, tugging harder until it gave way with a metallic scrape.
She stuffed her clothes inside without folding, without care, her chest aching with every motion.The slam of the office door still echoed in her ears.King’s hard, unreadable, and scarred face burned in her mind.
His words cut deep, and though she told herself she was done with him, that she wouldn’t cry over a man who’d shut her out, her throat still felt raw, her eyes hot.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken.Not King.Not any man.
The clubhouse hummed outside her door, the low roar of laughter, the crack of pool balls, the clinking of beer bottles.
The Devil’s Crown carried on like nothing had happened, like the president hadn’t just taken her body, her heart, and then tried to shove her out as though none of it mattered.
She refused to let them watch her fall apart.
Her boots thudded against the floorboards as she hauled her bag onto her shoulder and stepped out.A few brothers glanced her way, eyes curious, some pitying, but no one dared say a word.
Good.If anyone tried to stop her, she wasn’t sure if she’d scream or crumble.
Viper was at the bar, his tattooed arms crossed as he scanned the room.His sharp eyes caught hers, narrowing when he spotted the duffel.He straightened, ready to intercept, but Lena lifted her chin.
“Don’t,” she warned, her voice steady even though her stomach was twisting.
For a moment, he looked like he might argue, then something in her expression made him step back.Viper gave her a small nod, respect or maybe pity in his gaze.
“Take care, Lena,” Viper told her.
She swallowed hard and pushed past him, not daring to look back.
The night air hit her as she stepped outside, cool and heavy with the smell of oil and cigarette smoke.The parking lot was half full, rows of bikes gleaming under the security lights.
She’d come here thinking she might be safe, that maybe King meant it when he said she was under the Devil’s Crown’s protection.For a heartbeat, she’d believed she wasn’t alone anymore and then last night happened.
Something in her chest tightened.She could still feel his hands on her, the way he’d touched her like she was something breakable and sacred even as his body trembled with hunger.
She could still taste the rough edge of whiskey on his mouth, still hear the way he’d whispered her name like a prayer he wasn’t supposed to say.
She clenched her jaw and headed toward the beat-up sedan parked at the edge of the lot. King had sent a prospect to retrieve it.
Lena didn’t have much, but she still had her apartment.It wasn’t much more than four walls and a leaky faucet, but it was hers.
Freedom, even if it came with loneliness.
Her boots crunched gravel as she walked, but every step away from the clubhouse felt heavier, harder.Her chest kept pulling backward, toward the man she swore she wasn’t going to think about anymore.
Toward the one who’d shoved her away with his words but had already branded her with his touch.No.Enough.
She threw her bag into the passenger seat and climbed behind the wheel.The engine coughed before it finally turned over.Lena gripped the steering wheel hard, her knuckles white.
She told herself she was making the right decision.She couldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted.She couldn’t tie herself to a man who thought loving her or wanting her was a mistake.
However, her eyes burned anyway as she drove, the clubhouse lights shrinking in her rearview mirror.
