Claimed By My Biker Stalker

Jonnie Jo By the time I finished the final line of the tattoo, my hand was cramping so badly my fingers barely wanted to uncurl from the machine. I sat back slowly on my stool, flexing my wrist while the low hum that had filled the booth for the last six hours finally died away. The sudden silence rang in my ears. Across from me, my client stared down at his forearm with the kind of awe tattoo artists chased like a drug. The raven stretched nearly elbow to wrist, its wings spread wide in layered black and gray realism. Every feather sat exactly where I wanted it. Sharp. Dark. Clean enough to make my chest loosen with something dangerously close to pride. “Holy s**t,” he breathed, turning his arm under the light. “JJ, this is insane.” A tired smile pulled faintly at my mouth as I reached for a paper towel and wiped away the last traces of ink and plasma. “Give it a week before you decide that. Right now your adrenaline’s doing half the talking.” “No, seriously.” He laughed softly, unable to stop staring at it. “Worth every damn penny.” I stood and stretched carefully, my spine popping in several places. The shop lights overhead buzzed faintly while neon signs cast soft pink and blue reflections over the black tile floors. At this hour the place usually felt calmer, almost peaceful in a strange way. The chaos of walk-ins was gone, the music turned lower, the scent of disinfectant and tattoo ink settling permanently into the walls like smoke in an old bar. I loved this place. Or at least I used to. “Keep the wrap on tonight,” I said automatically while cleaning my station. “Wash it tomorrow with unscented soap. No soaking it, no scratching it, no gym, and for the love of God don’t let your buddy talk you into putting whiskey on it.” “That happened one time.” “And it was stupid that time too.” He laughed again before finally grabbing his things and heading toward the front register. I rang him out while he kept admiring his arm like he still couldn’t believe it belonged to him. The tip he left made my chest tighten slightly. A hundred dollars. Not life-changing money. But enough. Enough to fold into the envelope hidden beneath the loose board under my bathroom sink. Enough to make the tiny spark of hope inside me twitch weakly back to life for another day. Every extra dollar mattered now. Every single one. “You heading home?” he asked casually while signing the receipt. “In a little bit.” “You got somebody walking you out?” The question caught me off guard enough that I glanced up at him. Concern. That was what sat on his face. Not flirting. Not pity. Just concern. I forced a small shrug. “I’ll survive the parking lot.” His expression shifted like he wanted to say something more, but people usually sensed the line around me eventually. Most didn’t push. I’d become very good at making sure they didn’t. “Well,” he said awkwardly, “night, JJ.” “Night.” The bell over the front door jingled softly as he left, and silence rolled back through the shop almost immediately afterward. I looked around automatically. Too quiet. Kinsley usually had music blasting by now. Some aggressively upbeat playlist full of pop-punk and emotionally unstable women screaming into microphones. Half the time she danced while doing inventory like the tattoo shop was secretly a concert venue. Tonight there was nothing. No music. No laughing. No Kinsley yelling at the printer because it jammed every other hour. A strange feeling crept up the back of my neck. I frowned and glanced toward the hallway leading to the office. “Kins?” No answer. Maybe she stepped out for a smoke. Still, something felt wrong enough that my stomach tightened. I grabbed my water bottle from my station and started toward the back, my boots echoing softly against the floor. Neon signs reflected across the glass display cases as I passed them. Outside, rain tapped faintly against the front windows, the streets of North Town glowing wet and hazy beneath old streetlights. The hallway near the office was darker than the rest of the shop. And that was when I heard it. A laugh. Soft. Breathy. Female. Kinsley. Then a man’s voice followed low underneath it, and my entire body went cold so fast it made me dizzy. No. Not him. Please not him. I moved before my brain could catch up, my pulse suddenly hammering hard enough to hurt. The office door sat cracked open just enough for warm yellow light to spill into the hallway. For one split second I considered turning around. Pretending I hadn’t heard anything. Pretending my life wasn’t about to split open down the middle. Then I shoved the door wider. The world stopped. Kinsley was bent over the desk. Havoc stood behind her with one hand tangled in her blonde hair and the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. His kutte hung open. Her shorts were shoved halfway down her thighs. Lipstick smeared across her mouth. For a second my brain refused to process what I was looking at. The image felt disconnected from reality, like a scene from television left playing in the background somewhere far away from me. Then Havoc looked up. And smiled. Not guilt. Not panic. A smile. Something inside my chest caved inward so violently I physically staggered. Kinsley gasped and jerked upright so quickly she nearly knocked over the chair behind her. “JJ—” I couldn’t breathe. The room tilted slightly around me as heat flooded my face. My ears rang so loudly I almost missed the sound of Havoc calmly buckling his belt. “Well,” he said casually, like I’d walked in on him making coffee instead of f*****g my best friend. “You’re done early.” I stared at him. Then at her. Kinsley’s eyes were already filling with tears. That somehow made it worse. Not enough guilt to stop. Just enough to cry after getting caught. “JJ, please,” she whispered, tugging her shirt down with shaking hands. “I swear this just—” “Don’t.”My voice cracked so badly it barely sounded like mine. Kinsley froze. I laughed once under my breath, but the sound came out ugly and broken. “Don’t give me some bullshit line about how it just happened.” Havoc leaned lazily against the desk, completely unbothered. “You gonna cry about it or make dinner?” The words hit harder than a slap. For years I had swallowed everything. Every humiliation. Every insult. Every bruise hidden beneath makeup and long sleeves. I’d trained myself to stay quiet because staying quiet kept Millie safe. But something finally snapped. I crossed the room before I even realized I was moving and slammed the desk lamp onto the floor. It shattered loudly, pieces skidding across the office tiles. Kinsley jumped violently. Havoc’s eyes narrowed instantly. “You think this is funny?” I demanded, my voice shaking so badly I hated it. “You think this is some kind of f*****g joke?” “Oh my God,” Kinsley whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “JJ, I’m sorry.” I looked at her then. Really looked at her. This woman had held ice against my ribs before. She’d watched Millie while I worked double shifts. She’d helped cover bruises with concealer. She knew. She knew exactly what kind of man he was. And she still let him touch her. “You knew,” I whispered. The guilt on her face deepened instantly. “That’s what’s killing me right now,” I said, my throat burning. “Not even him. You.” “JJ, he told me things—” “Oh, I’m sure he did.” I laughed again, sharper this time. “Did he tell you I’m cold? Neglectful? A b***h? Did he tell you I don’t touch him enough?” Kinsley looked away. And that answer hurt more than words could have. Havoc exhaled heavily like he was already tired of the conversation. “Jesus Christ, enough already. You’re acting like I murdered somebody.” I turned toward him slowly. He shrugged. “You’ve been useless for months.” The words landed with cruel precision because he knew exactly where to strike. Years ago, comments like that would have gutted me completely. Now they just left another cut layered over scars that never really healed. Still, pain crawled up my throat anyway. “You really wanna know why?” he continued. “You walk around this place looking miserable all the damn time. You don’t smile. You barely touch me. You act like being around me is torture.” Because it is. The thought screamed through my head, but I didn’t say it aloud. I couldn't. Not with Millie still somewhere under his control. Kinsley suddenly wiped at her face angrily before blurting, “Well maybe if you actually did your job satisfying him he wouldn’t need to come to me.” Silence dropped over the room instantly. Even Havoc looked slightly surprised she’d said it. Kinsley covered her mouth afterward like she wanted to shove the words back inside herself, but it was too late. I stared at her for a long moment, feeling something cold settle into place deep inside my chest. Not heartbreak. That part had happened years ago. This felt more like clarity. Like finally understanding how completely alone I really was. No family. No friends. No daughter waiting for me at home. Nothing. Just this endless nightmare of survival stretched across years of my life. I turned toward the door because suddenly if I stayed another second, I thought I might actually collapse. Havoc grabbed my jaw before I made it two steps. Pain shot through my face as he slammed me backward against the wall hard enough to rattle the framed artwork hanging beside me. His fingers dug brutally into my skin. “You don’t even think about trying to leave me again,” he said quietly. Every ounce of blood drained from my body. Kinsley immediately went pale. “Havoc—” “Shut up.” His eyes stayed locked on mine. Calm. Steady. That was always the worst part about him. He never looked angry when he threatened me. Never shouted. Never lost control. Men like that were far more dangerous. “You remember what happens when you run,” His grip tightened slightly when panic flashed across my face.“You belong to me. And if you forget that again, I’ll make sure you never see your little girl another f*****g day in your life.” Then he released me. I stumbled sideways, catching myself against the wall while my pulse thundered violently in my ears. Kinsley was crying. Havoc looked bored. And all I could think as I stood there shaking was that if I didn’t find a way out soon, this place was going to kill me long before Havoc ever actually put me in the ground.