Running From My Abusive Husband, Claimed By A Biker

Chapter Six

The kitchen filled surprisingly fast. Men drifted in from every direction, some still rubbing sleep from their eyes, others already dressed for the day. They greeted each other with rough nods, traded insults that somehow sounded friendly, and made straight for the coffee. Every few seconds, another one appeared.

My smile slowly faded.

I hadn't realized so many people stayed here.

My gaze flicked from the growing crowd to the food spread across the counters.

I'd been so certain I'd made plenty.

Now...

I wasn't so sure.

My heart sank at the sight. Oh no. I hadn’t made enough. I had thought that preparing for ten people would be generous, but apparently I had been very, very wrong. “I’m so sorry,” I said, looking helplessly from one platter to another as the realization settled over me. “I didn’t realize there were so many of you.”

Tank glanced over the spread of food and gave a casual shrug. “Close enough.”

Blaze laughed at that. “If Murphy takes his usual four servings, the rest of us are screwed.”

“I eat what my body requires.” Murphy shot back at once.

The room erupted into easy laughter at the familiar exchange. Despite all the teasing, something unexpected began to happen. Nobody piled their plates high. Each man took only a little before stepping aside to make room for the next. One of them even broke a stack of pancakes carefully in half before placing the smaller portion on his own plate. Another quietly slid three sausages back onto the serving tray after noticing that the supply was starting to run low.

I frowned as I watched them. They were deliberately making sure that everyone got something—including me. A strange warmth settled in my chest at the quiet consideration. These men argued like children among themselves, yet without saying a single word about it, they had all agreed to leave enough for everyone else. Including Noah.

“He’ll be hungry when he wakes up,” one of them muttered as he covered the remaining pancakes with foil. “And the kid needs to eat.”

Just then, another pair of boots crossed the doorway. The chatter faded almost immediately. Ryder stepped inside, one sweeping glance taking in the crowded kitchen, the overflowing counter, and the plates already held in everyone’s hands. His gaze finally settled on me. “You did all this?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious again under his attention. "I just wanted to thank everyone for helping Noah and me."

He studied me for another quiet moment. Then he gave a single nod. "Eat before it gets cold."

He simply grabbed a mug, poured himself a cup of black coffee, and leaned against the counter while the others continued helping themselves.

For some reason...

That tiny nod felt like approval.

I found myself smiling.

⁕⁕⁕

I was halfway through washing the second stack of plates when the front door opened. Boots crossed the threshold. They weren't as heavy as the others'. Their footsteps were lighter. More measured.

I glanced up.

A woman stepped inside.

She looked to be around my age, dressed in a black leather jacket, fitted jeans and worn boots. A motorcycle helmet rested beneath one arm while a black laptop bag hung from her shoulder. She looked exhausted, as though she'd been awake all night. Yet despite that, she carried herself with quiet confidence.

“Raven,” Tank called, grinning. “Look who finally decided to show her face.”

“Missed you too, asshole,” she answered, voice dry. Several of the men laughed and greeted her by name.

"Had to finish the job," she replied, dropping the helmet onto a nearby chair. "You know how politicians love talking."

A few of the men chuckled.

"Mission go okay?" Blaze asked.

She shrugged. "I got what we needed."

That was when her gaze swept the kitchen once—then stopped on me. The easy atmosphere shifted by a fraction. She looked me over the way someone checks a new piece of equipment for defects. “Who’s she?”

No one answered right away. Ryder, still leaning against the counter with his coffee, spoke without looking up from the mug. “She’s staying.”

Something flickered across Raven’s face. Irritation. She didn’t argue. She just set the helmet aside, dropped her laptop bag onto the counter with a little more force than necessary, and pulled out a slim black machine. She powered it on, then reached into the bag and pulled out a small flash drive.

"Let's see what our dear senator whitmore was hiding," someone muttered.

Raven plugged it in. The second the drive connected, the screen flickered hard. An error window flashed. Then another. The system locked up completely.

One of the guys—Jax, muttered, “Damn.”

Raven’s jaw tightened but she didn’t look up. “Not now.”

She started typing, fingers moving fast and sure across the keys. The screen stayed frozen on the same error. Her frown deepened.

Raven restarted the system and tried another command. "Come on..." she muttered.

The same error appeared. The room gradually noticed. Conversations quieted and even Ryder looked over.

Nobody interrupted her.

Nobody offered suggestions.

They simply watched, as though this was something she’d handled many times before.

I kept my head down, rinsing a plate that was already clean. My hands had gone still under the water.

I knew that error. I’d seen it before.

I hesitated. Looked away. Looked back. Finally, very timidly: “Um…”

Every pair of eyes turned toward me and I immediately regretted speaking. “I’m sorry… I… I think… I might know why it’s doing that.”

Silence stretched.

Raven stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Excuse me?”

I shrank a little under the weight of the attention. “I could be wrong… I used to study cybersecurity before I got married.”

I swallowed. “Could I… see the error?”

She looked annoyed, but after a second she turned the laptop toward me. I studied the screen for a few quiet moments. “…I don’t think the drive is damaged,” I said carefully. "I... think it's trying to load the wrong startup path."

Raven frowned. “What?”

I pointed, barely touching the edge of the keyboard. “There.”

She moved aside just enough to let me reach the keys. I typed carefully. One command. Then another. A short sequence I still remembered. Thirty seconds later the drive unlocked with a soft chime, files cascading back into view like nothing had ever been wrong.

The laptop came back.

No one spoke. Even Ryder had gone still, coffee forgotten in his hand.

Raven looked from the screen to me, her expression never really changed. But something in her eyes had gone cold. She closed the laptop with a quiet click.