Claimed By The Biker Kings

Run for my life

Svetlana's POV

"Is everything ready?"

I stop immediately, my hand pressing lightly against the wall beside me as I focus on their conversation.

"Yes," my boyfriend Mark replies. "Everything is ready."

There is something in his tone that makes my stomach tighten, even though I cannot explain why.

"For tomorrow?" my father asks.

"Yes."

Tomorrow?

I do not understand what they are talking about, and my confusion grows as I take another step closer.

Then my father speaks again.

"Good. He has been so keen about her."

My fingers curl slightly at my side as I try to process what he means.

Who is he?

Why is someone asking about anything related to them?

There is a short pause, and then my boyfriend speaks again in a calm, almost detached tone.

"Once he takes her tomorrow, we will get things over with."

Everything inside me goes still.

I freeze where I am, my mind going completely blank as those words settle in a way that I cannot ignore.

It feels like I am somewhere else, watching this happen to someone else.

My father’s voice breaks through the silence again.

"Make sure she does not suspect anything tomorrow during the engagement," he says. "She still trusts you."

My chest tightens painfully, and I press my hand against it as if that will help me breathe properly again.

My boyfriend lets out a small laugh, and the sound of it feels wrong in a way I have never noticed before.

"She will not," he says. "She never does."

Tears fill my eyes instantly, and I blink quickly as if that will stop them from falling.

I shake my head slowly, trying to convince myself that I am misunderstanding what I am hearing.

This cannot be real. This cannot be about me. But then my father says something that makes everything clear.

"The buyer wants her untouched," he says in a calm, steady voice. "Do not ruin this Mark."

The world around me feels like it's collapsing and I have to press harder against the wall to steady myself.

They are talking about me. They are talking about selling me.

My boyfriend sighs, and there is a hint of irritation in his voice.

"I have handled everything for three years," he says. "I am not going to mess it up now."

Three years.

The words echo in my head as every memory I have with him starts replaying whether I want it to or not.

Every moment we shared.

Every promise he made.

Every time he told me he loved me.

I start to question all of it at once, and it feels like I cannot hold onto anything anymore.

My father speaks again, his tone carrying a sense of approval that makes my stomach twist.

"You did well," he says. "Better than I expected."

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to hold myself together, but it feels impossible.

"Once this is done," Mark says, "we will not have to deal with her anymore and you'll f**k me properly old man."

Wait, what?! Did I just hear that? No way, definitely no way it's what I'm thinking?

Tears slide down my face quietly, and I do not bother to wipe them away because I am too focused on staying silent.

I cannot let them know I am here. I cannot let them know I heard everything.

My boyfriend lets out a quiet chuckle, and that sound is what finally breaks something deep inside me.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I stood frozen just outside the half-open bedroom door.

But then the sounds hit me—wet, hungry groans, the unmistakable slide of mouths crashing together, the rustle of clothes being yanked open. I couldn’t stop myself. I peeked.

There they were.

Mark—was on his knees in front of my father, shirt already ripped half off, hands gripping Dad’s hips like he’d been starving for this. Dad’s fingers were tangled in Mark’s hair, guiding him, hips rolling forward with a filthy grunt that made my stomach drop straight through the floor.

“That’s it,” Dad growled, voice thick. “Been waiting too damn long for you to stop pretending. Once she’s out of the picture… you’re mine. All mine.”

Mark moaned around him, the sound muffled and desperate, and my father’s head fell back, eyes half-closed in raw pleasure.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. My own father and my fiancé—kissing, touching, planning to get rid of me like I was nothing more than an inconvenience standing between them.

The betrayal burned hotter than the shock, and all I could do was stare, my bag almost slipped from the keys I was holding to drop to the ground, my fingers suddenly went numb, clenching tightly.

That is when I understand everything.

There is nothing left to question.

There is nothing left to hold onto.

The man I trusted did not save me, he was preparing me.

I step back slowly, making sure my movements are quiet even though my entire body is shaking.

I turn away from the door and walk back into the living room, each step feeling heavier than the last.

My bag is still on the couch where I left it, and I grab it quickly, my fingers trembling so badly that I almost drop it.

I do not give myself time to think because I know that if I stop moving, I might not be able to leave.

I walk to the door and open it as quietly as I can, then step outside and close it behind me.

The moment I am outside, I start walking down the street quickly, my pace increasing with every step as panic begins to settle in.

My thoughts are scattered and loud, and my heart is beating so fast that it feels like it might burst out of my chest.

I keep moving because standing still is not an option.

I do not know where I am going. I do not know what I am going to do next.

But I know one thing with absolute certainty.

I am running for my life! So I took off my heels at once and ran.

My legs feel like they are moving on their own as my mind races through everything I have just heard.

The street stretches ahead that I barely notice the passing cars. I barely notice anything except the need to get as far away as possible.

I do not know how long I have been running, or how far I have gone. I do not care. I only know that I cannot stop.

My lungs burn, and my arms ache from holding my bag too tightly, but I keep going anyway.

I turn a corner too quickly, my shoes scraping against the pavement, and I hear a low growl of an engine behind me. I glance over my shoulder and see a motorcycle speeding toward me. I freeze for a fraction of a second, but it is too late.

The bike swerves suddenly, tires screeching, and I try to jump out of the way, but my foot catches on the curb and I fall hard onto the asphalt, my bag tumbling beside me.

Pain explodes across my knee and my palms scrape against the rough surface, but it is the sound of the bike colliding with the edge of my bag that finally terrifies me.

I collapse fully onto the ground, pressing my hands against my face for a second, trying to make sense of what just happened. The bike wobbles past me, the rider shouting something, and then the engine fades into the distance.

I do not move immediately. I cannot. I am too stunned, too terrified, too aware that I am completely alone. My bag lies a few feet away, half open, and I reach for it slowly, dragging it closer without lifting my head.

I finally sit up, my legs trembling, my clothes torn and dirty from the fall. I look around the street and I take a deep, uneven breath. I have to move. I have to keep moving.

I do not notice the sound at first. Low, heavy footsteps coming from the shadows of the street ahead. I tense immediately, pulling my bag closer to me, ready to run again, but then the figure appears.

A man on a motorcycle has stopped a few feet away. He is tall, broad, and his gaze is sharp. He does not speak at first. He just looks at me and I feel my body tense even more.

“I didn’t hit you on purpose,” he says finally, his voice calm but commanding. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head slowly, unable to speak. My throat feels dry, and raw from the running. I cannot tell him anything yet. I only know that I need to keep going, even though I am not sure where I can go.

The man steps closer. He does not touch me, but I can feel his presence undeniably. “You can’t stay here,” he says. “It’s not safe here. You need to get out of the street.”

I look at him and try to form words, but they fail me. My mind is spinning too fast, too full of fear and confusion. I only manage to whisper, “I… I don’t know where to go.”

He nods once, slowly, as if he understands more than I am saying. “Then come with me. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

I hesitate, unsure if I can trust him. My whole life has taught me that people are not to be trusted, that kindness is a trap for kidnap, and that safety is a lie. But I do not have anywhere else to go.

I swallow hard and nod slightly. He reaches out a hand, and I take it carefully. It is strong and somehow reassuring, even though I barely know him.

Without another word, he guides me toward the motorcycle. I climb on cautiously behind him, my arms wrapping around his waist instinctively. The engine roars to life, and we move quickly.

I try to calm myself, telling myself that this is the only chance I have to get away.

Then I hear the faint buzz of a phone in his pocket. He pulls it out with one hand without slowing down. I watch, frozen, as he swipes the screen and answers.

“I’m bringing her now,” he says, his voice low and controlled.

My mind explodes instantly. *Bringing her?* He’s bringing me where? I do not know, and the unknown makes my stomach drop like I am falling into a pit.

Panic surges through me. My hands tighten around his waist as my thoughts spin faster. I do not care about my scraped palms, my aching legs, or anything else. I only know that I need to get off this bike fast. And Now.

I start to twist awkwardly, trying to find a way to jump off. “Stop!” I scream, my voice lost in the roar of the engine.

Before I can do anything, the bike slows suddenly. My body jerks forward, and I nearly lose my balance. I swing my legs out instinctively, desperate to throw myself off.

But his hand shoots out around me, gripping me tightly. My heart pounds in terror as I try to twist away, my fingers clawing at his arms.

Then, without warning, a sharp strike of his palms hits the side of my neck. Pain explodes, immediate and burning. My vision flashes white for a moment, and my body goes limp.

I try to scream, try to fight, but nothing works. My arms drop, my head lolls, and the world around me collapses in complete darkness!