I open it to find a couple of water bottles, some string cheese, and an apple. I take the string cheese, unwrapping it as I sit on the edge of the bed.
As I eat, I think about the man outside my door, and the others I've met. Rage with his surprising gentleness, Tank with his intimidating focus. They're dangerous men, I have no illusions about that. They're bikers, probably criminals, definitely violent when they need to be.
But they haven't hurt me. Haven't threatened me. Haven't made me feel like my body is something they're entitled to.
The bar is so low it's practically on the ground, but after Tommy, even basic decency feels like a revelation.
I finish the cheese and drink one of the water bottles, then try to settle back into bed. Sleep eludes me now, my mind racing with possibilities and fears. What will this King be like? Will he believe me? Will he help me? Or will he decide I'm too much of a liability?
I must doze eventually, because the next thing I know, there's another knock at the door, firmer this time, and daylight is streaming through the blinds.
"Claire?" Rage's voice. "You up? King's here."
I sit up quickly, wincing at the pain in my ribs. "Give me five minutes," I call back, my voice thick with sleep.
"Take ten," he replies. "We'll be in the conference room down the hall. Beast will show you when you're ready."
I hear his footsteps retreat, then scramble to make myself presentable. I change into the cleanest clothes I have. Jeans and a loose button-down shirt that doesn't press against my ribs and do my best with my hair using just my fingers as a comb.
There's not much I can do about the bruises. The one on my face has faded to a sickly yellow, but it's still clearly visible. I consider trying to cover it with makeup, then decide against it. Let them see what Tommy did to me. Let them understand exactly what I'm running from.
When I open the door, I find a mountain of a man waiting outside. He’s even bigger than Tank, with a thick dark beard and arms covered in tattoos. His expression is neutral, but his eyes are watchful.
"Beast?" I ask hesitantly.
He nods once. "Conference room's this way."
Chapter 4 - Rage
I pace the length of the conference room, too wired to sit despite having been up all night. The clubhouse is on high alert, brothers positioned at every entrance, weapons ready. If the Eagles are planning something for tonight, we'll be prepared, all thanks to her. To Claire.
King sits at the head of the table, his face impassive as he reads through the notes Tank made during our conversation with Claire last night. Luna now sits beside him, her blue eyes tracking me as I move. It's unusual for King to bring his old lady to a security meeting, but Luna's got good instincts about people, especially women in trouble. If Claire is playing us, Luna will sense it.
"She's telling the truth," I say, unable to keep silent any longer. "About the beatings at least. I saw her ribs. No one does that to themselves."
King looks up, his cold blue eyes revealing nothing. "I believe she was beaten. Question is whether she's telling the truth about who did it and why she's here."
"Could be a plant," Tank says from his position by the door. "Eagles send in a sympathy case, we take her in, she feeds us false intel while gathering information."
"That's bullshit," I snap. "You saw her. She's terrified."
"Fear can be faked," Tank counters.
"Not that kind," Luna interjects softly. "Not the kind that makes you flinch when someone raises their hand too quickly."
King places his palm over Luna's hand, a gesture of acknowledgment and agreement that's become automaticbetween them. "We'll hear her out," he says. "But we verify everything before making any moves based on her information."
The door opens, and Beast enters, Claire following close behind. She's changed into jeans and a loose shirt, her blonde hair pulled back in a simple ponytail.
She looks better than she did last night. At least she's gotten some sleep, but still carries herself like someone expecting a blow at any moment.
Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the room. King with his silver-streaked dark hair and penetrating stare, Luna beside him, Tank by the door, and me, still pacing like a caged animal.
"Sit," King says, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.
Claire complies, perching on the edge of the seat as if ready to flee at any moment. Her eyes dart briefly to me, seeking reassurance. I give her a small nod and finally take a seat next to her, partly to make her more comfortable and partly because King's giving me the "sit the fuck down" look.
"I'm King," he says simply. "President of the Savage Riders. This is my wife, Luna. You've already met Tank and Rage."
