Claimed By My Biker Stalker

Chapter 6 — Sweet Girl Lessons

JJ

By the time the bike fest finally started winding down for the night, my entire body felt wrung out.

The streets of North Town were still packed, but the energy had shifted. The drunker crowd had taken over now. Sunburned bikers staggered between bars carrying buckets of beer while exhausted vendors started breaking down tents beneath the glow of flickering neon signs and dusty streetlamps.

My wrist ached from tattooing. My cheeks hurt from fake smiling.

And somewhere beneath all of it sat the lingering memory of dark gray eyes watching me like I was something worth paying attention to.

That part bothered me most. Because I kept thinking about him. About the way conversation with him had felt easy.

Natural.

Oddly safe.

I hated how much that realization alone exposed about my life.

“Careful with those,” Stitch called while hauling one side of a folding table toward the trailer. “Last year Darren dropped the entire sterilization bin and we all almost got hepatitis.”

“Encouraging,” I muttered.

“Just trying to keep morale high.”

I rolled my eyes and reached for another supply box.

The second I bent down to grab it, a hand landed hard against the small of my back.

Not hard enough to draw attention. Just enough to make me tense instantly.

Havoc.

“Need a hand, baby?” he asked casually.

I straightened slowly. “I’ve got it.”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“That so?”

Something cold slid beneath my ribs. Not here. Please not here.

I grabbed the box anyway and carried it toward the trailer while trying to ignore the feeling of him following directly behind me.

The moment we stepped partially out of view behind the tent, Havoc grabbed my arm hard enough to stop me cold.

Pain shot up to my shoulder.

I sucked in a breath sharply.

“You were awfully f*****g friendly with that Dagger earlier,” he said quietly.

There it was. I should’ve known this was coming.

“He was a customer.”

“You should’ve refused him service.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “At a bike fest? Half the people here are from rival clubs.”

“That wasn’t service.” His grip tightened harder. “That was flirting.”

I laughed once under my breath because honestly, what the f**k else was I supposed to do anymore?

“You’re kidding, right?”

His expression darkened instantly.

“In front of my brothers too.” His voice dropped lower. Meaner. “You got any idea what that makes me look like?”

The exhaustion inside me cracked open just enough for bitterness to spill through.

“Oh no,” I said flatly. “Wouldn’t want anybody thinking your wife had a conversation.”

That happened fast.

The backhand slammed across my face hard enough to whip my head sideways. Pain exploded through my cheekbone. For half a second, all I heard was ringing.

Then the metallic taste of blood hit my mouth where my teeth cut into the inside of my cheek.

I stayed frozen. Not because it didn’t hurt. Because reacting made things worse.

Always.

Havoc’s silver club ring had split the skin near my cheekbone. I could already feel heat blooming beneath the makeup I’d spent nearly an hour applying this morning.

“See?” he snapped immediately. “See what you make me f*****g do?”

My pulse hammered violently while I stared at the dirt beneath my boots.

“You run your mouth. You push. You embarrass me.” His breathing slowed while mine sped up. “Why can’t you just be sweet anymore, JJ?”

The shift in tone made my stomach turn harder than the hit itself.

There it was.

The reversal.

The part where suddenly I was supposed to comfort him for hurting me.

“You used to be grateful,” he continued, stepping closer. “Used to be obedient.” His eyes dragged over my face. “Hell, maybe you should take notes from Kinsley. At least she knows how to treat a man.”

Something ugly twisted low in my stomach.

Not jealousy.

Something worse.

Humiliation.

Grief.

Disgust.

Havoc exhaled heavily like I was exhausting him before reaching up and touching my swelling cheek with surprising gentleness.

“You’re already bruising,” he muttered.

Yeah.

Because you hit me.

“I’ll get ice on it before it gets bad.”

The concern in his voice would’ve sounded loving to anyone else.

That was the terrifying part.

His hand slid behind my neck before he pulled me forward and kissed me hard enough to make my split cheek sting.

I didn’t pull away.

I didn’t dare.

Because the last thing I needed right now was another hit in public.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured softly against my mouth.

I swallowed nausea.

“Now get in the truck. I’ll finish loading everything up.” His thumb brushed beneath my eye where tears had started watering through my makeup from the pain. “Can’t let people see you looking like that.”

My vision blurred for a second. Not from the hit this time. From the sheer insanity of hearing him say that while my face throbbed because of him.

I nodded once because that was safer than speaking.

As I turned toward the truck, my eyes caught on Kinsley standing near the cash table.

She’d seen it. I knew she had. The horror on her face confirmed it instantly.

For one stupid second, something inside me softened.

Then Havoc walked past her and casually squeezed her ass hard enough to make her jump.

And just like that, the softness died.

By the time we got home, my cheek had swollen enough to ache with every heartbeat.

I went straight upstairs without speaking while Havoc stayed downstairs with the guys still hanging around the garage. The house smelled like cigarettes, beer, and engine grease. Familiar enough now that my body associated it with dread before my brain even caught up.

The shower water burned against the split in my cheek.

I stood beneath it anyway until the heat started running out.

By the time I stepped into the bedroom wearing an oversized shirt and underwear, the house had mostly quieted.

For about thirty seconds.

Then I heard it.

Muffled voices and the unmistakable creak of mattress springs coming from the guest room.

My entire body went still.

I stared at the bedroom wall while something hollow opened slowly inside my chest.

“That f*****g b***h,” I whispered.

The worst part wasn’t even that she was sleeping with my husband.

I didn’t love Havoc anymore. I hadn’t for years.

No, the part that hurt was that she knew.

She had seen everything.

The bruises.

The screaming.

The fear.

The isolation.

She had held ice packs against my ribs.

And somehow she still looked at a man who backhanded me across the face and thought:

yeah, I’ll climb into bed with him afterward.

Who the f**k does that?

I looked toward the bedroom door. For one dangerous second, I considered locking it. The thought disappeared almost immediately. Because locking it would start a fight.

And I was so f*****g tired of pain.

So I left the door unlocked, crawled beneath the blankets, and curled onto my side facing away from the room.

I must’ve fallen asleep almost instantly.

The next thing I knew, weight dipped the mattress behind me.

My entire body tensed automatically.

Havoc’s arm slid around my waist while his chest pressed against my back. Warm. Heavy. Familiar in the worst possible way.

His beard brushed lightly against my shoulder before he kissed the bare skin there.

“You awake, baby?”

I kept my breathing steady. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

The words landed hollow now.

Years ago, I would’ve melted hearing them.

Years ago, I would’ve believed him when he said he hated hurting me.

Now all I heard was the cycle resetting itself.

“You know I don’t like punishing you,” he murmured against my shoulder. “But you push me sometimes.”

There it was.

Always.

The implication that I caused this. That his violence was something dragged out of him instead of chosen.

His fingers slid slowly across my stomach beneath my shirt. Possessive. Lazy.

“You’re not gonna do any more stupid s**t, are you?”

The silence stretched just long enough that his hand stopped moving.

Fear curled coldly through my stomach.

“I said,” he repeated softer this time, “you’re not gonna do any more stupid s**t, right?”

I swallowed hard.

“No.”

A pause.

Then his fingers tightened slightly against my hip.

“No what?”

The words came automatically now.

Conditioning carved deep enough to survive exhaustion.

“No, sir.”

He relaxed instantly behind me, satisfied.

“That’s my sweet girl.”