Claimed by the Biker king

What Never Left

Killian didn’t ask for updates. He didn’t need to.

The prospects were doing their job as ordered. Keeping eyes on Dahlia, making sure nothing followed her, nothing escalated, nothing touched the club.

That was enough.

It had to be.

Because the moment he allowed himself more than that… the moment he stepped closer… he already knew what it would do to him. What it would bring back.

So he stayed away. Kept his distance. Let her exist in the same town without crossing paths.

Until work dragged him into it anyway.

A supplier had gotten bold. Thought he could push limits. Thought the Iron Saints would bend if he talked loud enough and delayed long enough.

Killian made sure that didn’t last.

It didn’t take much.

A few words. A firm hand. A reminder of how things worked around here. The man folded quickly after that. They always did.

By the time Killian stepped back, rolling his shoulders as he wiped the blood from his knuckles with a rag, the tension had already drained from the situation. The guys with him were talking, satisfied, laughing it off like it had been nothing.

To them… it was.

To him… it was just another job.

He leaned back against his bike, barely listening as the others finished loading up, his gaze drifting without purpose…And then it caught.

Her.

It wasn’t even a full look at first. Just a glimpse. A familiar shape moving through a place that suddenly didn’t feel so familiar anymore.

Dahlia.

His body stilled before his mind caught up. She hadn’t seen them.

Not pretending. Not avoiding. Just… unaware.

Headphones on, bold and white. Eyes distant. Like she was somewhere else entirely, even while walking through the town she once couldn’t wait to leave.

His jaw tightened as he watched her. Really looked at her. She didn’t look different. Not in the ways that mattered.

Yeah, she wore better clothes now. Expensive. Sharp. Everything about her screamed the life she had built for herself.

But it was the way she carried it…

That was different.

Her shoulders weren’t as straight. Her steps weren’t as certain. Like something had weighed her down. Like the world she had chased had finally pushed back.

His gaze followed her as she slowed in front of the diner.

That same diner. The one that still hadn’t changed.

The same cracked windows. The same worn sign. The same place where they had spent too many nights sitting across from each other, sharing fries and milkshakes like they had all the time in the world. Nights where they shared more than just fries and milkshakes.

He had been young and bold, and she had been curious and in love.

He remembered it too clearly. The way she used to look at him back then. The way she had leaned in, curious, fearless in a way she hadn’t even understood herself.

He remembered the first night he crossed a line in a public place like that when it was crowded. People chattering up the place, minding their own business. The noise drowning out sounds.

He sat beside her, an arm thrown over the back of her seat. The way he leaned in close to whisper in her ear as his fingers traveled. Slow and gentle over her leg and trailing up, brushing the inside of her thigh to let her know what he was doing.

He did it to tease her. He never thought she'd actually let him get away with fingering her in a public place like that.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispered in her ear.

Her cheeks were flustered, but she met his gaze and whispered back, “What if I don’t want you to?”

She then leaned in to kiss him. A soft and gentle kiss. If someone looked he was sure they would have looked cute and innocent. Yet underneath the table, his hand had found its way inside her jeans. She had been so f*****g wet for him.

This turned her on. Not because she had a kink but because it was with him.

She leaned close to him, his body shielding her as he brushed two fingers over her wet lips, gathering her juices to keep his finger nice and wet so he could rub her c**t. He kept his movement slow to make sure no one would notice he was fingering her.

The soft sounds only he could hear told him how close she was.

He wanted to feel her c*m around his fingers so he kissed her deep as he pushed two fingers inside her. She spread her legs for him to make things easier. Just a few flicks upward and she came. She buried her face in his neck, riding out her orgasm.

Slowly he pulled his fingers out of her and wiped them clean on his jeans.

They continued things like nothing happened. A memory only they shared.

Killian forced his jaw to unclench, dragging himself out of the memory before it pulled him under completely.

Dahlia hesitated at the door. Just for a second.

But it was enough for him to know that she felt it too. That she hadn’t left everything behind as easily as she made it seem.

His chest tightened before he pushed it down, hard.

She stepped inside. And just like that… she was gone from sight.

But not from him.

He watched through the window without meaning to, catching glimpses of her at the counter. The woman behind it said something. He couldn’t hear it, but he didn’t need to.

He knew how this town worked. Knew how they looked at her.

In their eyes… she didn’t just leave.

She left him. And people here didn’t forget things like that. He had never asked for their loyalty in that. Never needed it.

But he couldn’t stop it either. Not without making things worse. Not without her realizing he was still watching. That was the last thing he wanted.

She needed to do whatever she came here to do… And leave again.

Before she got under his skin like she used to. Before he forgot why he stayed away.

“Let’s go.”

His voice cut through the noise as he pushed himself off the bike, swinging his leg over it in one smooth motion.

The others didn’t question it. They followed.

Engines roared to life, filling the quiet street with sound that felt louder than usual.

Killian didn’t mean to look back but for a split second he did and their eyes met. It wasn’t long.

Barely a moment. But it hit harder than anything else had in the last four years. Like nothing had changed.

The air shifted. Tightened.

Pulled between them in a way that didn’t care about time or distance or everything that had gone wrong.

Killian broke it first. Turned his head. Focused forward.

Drove.

The sound of the engine drowning out everything else as he left her behind.

Because he knew one thing for sure. If he stopped… If he gave in, even for a second… There would be no walking away from her this time.

And Beck’s quiet warning sat heavy in the back of his mind. Don’t let this s**t touch the club.

Killian tightened his grip on the handlebars.

Too late for that.