Territorial
1070 Words
Black Hollow had exactly one diner.
One grocery store.
One gas station.
And apparently one very terrifying biker president who refused to let me out of his sight.
“I can go alone,” I said for the third time.
Reaper ignored me completely while pulling his gloves on.
Infuriating.
“I’m literally buying shampoo, not entering a war zone.”
“That’s nice.”
“That wasn’t agreement.”
His dark eyes slid toward me lazily. “Cute.”
My jaw dropped slightly.
Luca, unfortunately, witnessed this interaction and nearly choked on his beer.
“Oh, she’s got attitude,” he said gleefully.
“Luca,” Maria warned from behind the bar.
“What? I support women’s rights.”
“You support chaos.”
“Also true.”
I crossed my arms. “Why exactly do I need supervision?”
Reaper grabbed his keys from the counter.
“Because I said so.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“That’s not a real answer.”
“It is in my town.”
God.
The arrogant confidence should’ve annoyed me more than it did.
Instead, something low in my stomach tightened every time he got all controlling and territorial.
Which honestly said concerning things about me psychologically.
The ride into town should’ve been awkward.
Instead, it was strangely comfortable.
Rain had finally stopped overnight, leaving Black Hollow wrapped in cool fog and damp pine air. Reaper drove one-handed, tattoos flexing beneath his sleeves while old rock music played quietly through the truck speakers.
I tried not to stare at his hands.
Failed immediately.
Large.
Veined.
Covered in black ink.
Hands that probably started fights and held guns and—
Focus, Ivy.
“You keep staring,” Reaper said without looking at me.
Heat rushed into my face. “Your ego is unbelievable.”
“That wasn’t denial.”
I looked out the window instantly.
His low chuckle filled the truck.
Dangerous sound.
The grocery store looked exactly how I imagined a small-town grocery store would look.
Tiny.
Quiet.
Everyone staring openly the second Reaper walked inside.
And then staring even harder when they noticed me beside him.
Apparently Black Hollow gossip traveled at lightning speed.
A middle-aged cashier blinked rapidly at us. “Morning, Reaper.”
He nodded once.
Her eyes moved toward me curiously.
Then toward the way Reaper’s hand settled against the small of my back possessively.
My pulse skipped.
The cashier noticed that too.
Oh God.
He wasn’t even trying to hide this behavior.
I grabbed a basket quickly just to distract myself.
“Do you intimidate everyone naturally,” I muttered, “or is it a hobby?”
“Yes.”
“That’s still not how conversations work.”
Reaper smirked faintly.
We moved through the aisles while I grabbed essentials:
* shampoo
* toothpaste
* clean clothes
* snacks
* things normal people bought without a six-foot-four biker shadowing them like a bodyguard
Every few seconds, I caught someone staring at us.
Mostly at me.
And every single time, Reaper noticed before I did.
Territorial tension rolled off him constantly.
A younger guy near the freezer section smiled at me casually.
Big mistake.
Reaper stopped walking immediately.
The temperature in the aisle seemed to drop twenty degrees.
The poor guy paled.
“I was just being friendly,” he said quickly.
Reaper stepped slightly closer to me.
Claiming space again.
Always claiming space.
“She’s not interested.”
I opened my mouth. “I can actually—”
“She’s definitely not interested,” Reaper repeated calmly.
The guy disappeared instantly.
I stared at him. “You scared him.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t threaten every man who speaks to me.”
“Watch me.”
My stomach flipped traitorously.
This was absurd.
Completely absurd.
Unfortunately, my body clearly disagreed.
We reached the checkout with a basket full of things I couldn’t afford.
I froze when the cashier started scanning items.
“I don’t have enough money for all this,” I admitted quietly.
Before I could remove anything, Reaper handed over cash.
“No,” I said immediately.
“Yes.”
“I can pay you back.”
“You can try.”
The cashier wisely pretended not to hear us.
I glared at him once we stepped outside again.
“You can’t just buy things for me.”
“I already did.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You still came with me.”
Annoyingly valid point.
The cold morning air hit my face while Reaper loaded bags into the truck bed.
That was when I noticed the black SUV parked across the street.
My stomach dropped instantly.
Tinted windows.
Out-of-state plates.
And the unmistakable feeling of being watched.
Fear crawled slowly down my spine.
Reaper noticed immediately.
His body language changed in seconds.
Relaxed to lethal.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
I kept staring at the SUV. “I think…”
The driver’s door opened slightly.
My heart nearly stopped.
I recognized that man.
One of the men who came looking for Daniel.
Panic slammed into me hard enough to steal my breath.
“That’s him,” I whispered.
Reaper went completely still.
“Who.”
“The man from my apartment.”
His gaze locked onto the SUV instantly.
Cold.
Deadly.
Predatory.
The man inside the SUV seemed to realize who Reaper was at the exact same moment.
Because the door immediately shut again.
Then the SUV sped away down the road.
Fast.
Too fast.
Reaper watched until it disappeared entirely.
Every instinct in my body screamed danger.
“Reaper…”
He turned toward me slowly.
And for the first time since meeting him—
He looked genuinely furious.
Not irritated.
Not possessive.
Furious.
“Get in the truck,” he said calmly.
That calmness terrified me more than yelling would’ve.
I climbed inside immediately.
Reaper slammed the door shut before pulling out his phone.
“Luca.”
Silence.
Then:
“Get everyone to the bar. Now.”
Another pause.
Reaper’s jaw tightened.
“No,” he said coldly, eyes still on the road ahead. “We’ve got a f*****g problem.”
My pulse pounded painfully.
“What’s happening?”
Reaper looked at me briefly.
The fury in his eyes softened slightly.
Just for me.
Then his thumb brushed once against my knee.
Possessive.
Protective.
“Looks like your past found you first, sweetheart.”
- Writer
