Claimed by the Playboy MC President

Retaliation

Thea

Adrenaline instantly flooded my veins.

"Hey!" I shouted, sprinting down the pavement and aggressively wedging myself between Clara and the closest guy. I shoved him back with both hands, placing my body in front of her trembling body. "Back the hell off, jerk!"

Clara immediately grabbed the back of my shirt with her trembling fingers. "Thea, be careful." she whispered in panic. "They are from the rival gang on the next street. They saw me walking alone..."

I glanced quickly at the men.

Now that I was up close, I could see the thick, ugly skull tattoos inked onto their bulging forearms. They didn't look like regular street thugs; they looked organized, dangerous and entirely unbothered by my sudden appearance.

"I don't care who they are.." I snapped, reaching into my back pocket and pulling out my phone. I glared up at the biggest one, a guy with a jagged scar cutting through his eyebrow. "You have exactly three seconds to walk away before I dial the police. I mean it."

The scarred man stared at me for a split second before a loud, mocking laugh erupted from his chest. His friends joined in, stepping closer.

"Is that right, little girl?" he sneered.

Before I could even unlock my screen, his hand shot out and shoved me hard in the chest.

My phone went flying, shattering against the concrete. I stumbled backward but my instincts from years of self-defense training kicked in.

I planted my back foot, twisted my hips and threw a hard, precise right hook straight into the scarred man's jaw.

His head snapped back but it barely slowed him down.

The next few seconds were a blur of chaotic violence.

I fought back with everything I had, kicking, dodging and throwing punches but they were just too big.

A fist clipped the side of my cheek, sending a blinding flash of pain through my skull. Another blow caught me hard in the ribs, knocking the wind out of my lungs and sending me crashing to the hard asphalt.

"Thea!" Clara screamed.

The thugs stepped forward to finish the job but they were suddenly drowned out by the thunderous roar of high-performance engines.

Three motorcycles tore around the corner, their tires screaming against the pavement as they skidded to a violent halt blocking the alleyway.

First, I saw Mark. Clara’s boyfriend.

Then Reed. The President.

Then Miles.

Miles didn't even bother kicking his kickstand down. He dropped the heavy bike, letting it crash to the ground and launched himself at the skull-tattooed men.

He grabbed the scarred man by the collar, driving a brutal, merciless knee into his stomach before throwing him into the brick wall like a ragdoll. Then, he dispatched the second thug with a vicious cross to the temple that dropped him instantly.

Outmatched, bleeding and suddenly realizing they were about to be severely outnumbered, the remaining gang members scrambled backward.

"Cops!" One of them yelled, lying through his bloody teeth as an excuse to run.

They dragged their unconscious friend and fled down the opposite end of the alley like cowards.

The moment they were gone, Miles turned around. His dark, furious eyes scanned the concrete until they locked onto me.

He closed the distance in two long strides, dropping to his knees on the filthy asphalt right beside me. His large hands, the same ones that had just effortlessly dismantled three men, were surprisingly gentle as they framed my face.

"Look at me…" He commanded.

I winced as he used his thumb to carefully wipe a trickle of warm blood away from the corner of my split lip.

Reed jogged over, tossing a compact first-aid kit from his saddlebag. Miles caught it without looking away from me, swiftly pulling out an antiseptic wipe.

"Hold still. This is going to sting.” He murmured. His jaw was clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek.

As he pressed the cold, stinging wipe to my cut, Mark pulled Clara into a tight, protective embrace. But when Mark looked down the alley where the men had fled, his expression was murderous.

"This wasn't a random street harassment..” Mark growled with raw anger. "Those were the Skulls. They targeted Clara on purpose. This is deliberate retaliation over the upcoming race competition."