Page 3 of Claimed By Lock

I track her through the crowd without meaning to. She moves from the fire pit to the food trucks, grabs a plate, finds a spot at one of the picnic tables near the edge of the rally grounds. Maria's with her for a while, the two of them talking and laughing, and then Maria spots her old man across the way and drifts off to find him.

And she's alone.

Eating by herself. Watching the crowd with an expression I recognize — that careful distance, that subtle tension. She's scanning the crowd the same way I do. Looking for something. Or someone.

She knows this world — I can tell by the way she reads patches without staring, the way she doesn't tense up when bikers walk past. But she's not part of it. I can tell that much.

Stop staring. You're being a creep.

I force myself to look away. Check on my brothers instead — Ghost across the way, Diesel by the food trucks. Everyone's accounted for.

The Road Kings showed up an hour ago — a cluster of Phoenix patches I've been keeping an eye on. No sign of their SAA, Rocky, which is probably for the best. There's history there. Tension from the shit that went down with King and Demi a few months back. Nothing active right now, but the kind of grudge that doesn't die easy. The kind that simmers until someone makes a wrong move.

That's when I spot him.

Colt.

Road Kings patch. Mid-level nobody with a chip on his shoulder and a reputation for running his mouth. I've seen him at a few rallies over the years, always causing low-grade trouble — starting fights, hassling women, getting too drunk and too loud. The kind of asshole who gives clubs a bad name. His own people barely tolerate him, from what I've seen. He's more liability than asset.

Right now, he's cutting across the rally with a few brothers at his back. Moving with purpose. Heading straight for the picnic tables.

Straight forher.

My whole body goes tight.

I watch him approach. Watch her look up from her plate, see him, go completely still. The easy posture she had a moment ago vanishes. Her shoulders tighten. Her jaw sets. Her eyes go flat and hard in a way that tells me everything I need to know.

She knows him. And she's not happy to see him.

"Hey, Josie." His voice carries across the noise, loud and confident. Playing to an audience. "Thought that was you."

"Colt." Flat. Guarded. "What do you want?"

"What, I can't say hi to my girl?"

"I'm not your girl. We broke up three months ago."

"Nah, see, that's where you're wrong." He steps closer, moving into her space, and I see her whole body stiffen. "You don't get to just walk away from me. That's not how this works."

"That's exactly how this works." She stands up from the table, putting the bench between them. "We're done. I told you that. Multiple times. Now leave me alone."

"Or what?" He laughs, and there's an ugly edge to it. Mocking. "You gonna run to your cousin? Hide behind Maria's old man?" He moves around the table, cutting off the space she tried to put between them. The brothers with him look like they'd rather be anywhere else. "You're not with anyone, Josie. You're not protected. Which means you're still mine."

His hand shoots out and grabs her arm.

I'm moving before I've even consciously decided to. Walking fast, steady, eyes locked on the back of Colt's head.

People get out of my way without being asked. Something about how I'm moving, how I'm carrying myself, tells them not to be in my path. A cluster of Diablos parts like water. A group of women near the food trucks steps aside.

Josie's trying to pull her arm free, her jaw tight, fire blazing in her eyes even though she has to be scared. "Let go of me."

"Come on, baby, don't be like that?—"

"She said let go."

My voice cuts through the noise. Flat. Quiet. Not loud, but it carries.

Colt freezes. His hand stays on her arm, but his whole body goes still. Slowly, he turns to look at me.