Claimed By The Ruthless Biker

Chapter 4 Ava's Pov

CHAPTER FOUR

Ava’s POV

By morning, my hand hurt from holding the key.

I had not slept at all. I had sat on the edge of the narrow bed in Room 4 with my boots still on, my bag beside me, and my eyes fixed on the bottom of the door until the shadows under it stopped moving.

Once, close to dawn, I thought I heard someone breathing in the hallway.

Or maybe that was me. Maybe fear had learned how to echo in my ears.

When the first pale light slipped through the thin curtains, I stood too quickly and nearly fell. My knees buckled. I grabbed the dresser to steady myself, and the old wood groaned beneath my palm.

“Get up,” I whispered to myself. “Leave.”

That was the plan

Simple.

Leave before Cain Harlow woke up.

Leave before the men downstairs started looking at me like I was something marked.

Leave before this town, this bar, this room with its locked door and old soap smell, began to feel like anything close to safe.

Safe was dangerous.

Safe made people careless.

I splashed cold water on my face in the tiny bathroom. The mirror above the sink was cracked from one corner to the middle, splitting my reflection in two. One half looked pale and tired. The other looked like it had been running for years.

“Good morning, Ava,” I muttered. “Still a disaster.”

My stomach answered with a loud, painful twist.

I pressed a hand against it.

The last thing I had eaten was a packet of crackers from a gas station outside the state line. I had told myself I would buy food once I got far enough away.

Far enough had kept moving since then.

I grabbed my bag, unlocked the door as quietly as I could and stepped into the hallway.

No one was there.

The floorboards were cold under my boots. Downstairs, The Pit looked different in daylight. Less like a den of wolves and more like a place that had survived too many nights. Chairs were upside down on tables. Sunlight cut through dirty windows. Empty bottles sat in a crate near the bar. The air still smelled of smoke, beer, and old wood.

Mara was behind the counter, counting cash.

She looked up the moment she heard me.

“Well,” she said. “You survived.”

I tightened my grip on my bag. “Was that in doubt?”

“In this town?” She snapped a rubber band around a roll of bills. “Always.”

I glanced toward the door. “I’m leaving.”

Mara’s eyes moved to my bag, then back to my face. “Of course you are.”

I frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means women who say that usually have nowhere to go.”

“I have somewhere.”

“No, honey.” She relaxed one elbow on the bar. “You have away. That’s not the same thing.”

The words hit too close. I looked away first.

“Is Cain here?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Mara’s mouth curved slightly. “Why?”

“I want to avoid him.”

“Then no.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That sounds like a lie.”

“It is.”

Before I could answer, the back door opened. Cain stepped inside carrying a metal toolbox in one hand and my entire morning in the other.

He was wearing a black shirt again, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Ink covered his forearms. Grease marked one knuckle. His hair was damp, like he had already been outside in the cold.

His eyes found me immediately.

I straightened. “I’m leaving.”

He set the toolbox on the bar. “No.”

Heat shot through my chest. “Excuse me?”

“Your car isn’t.”

I stared at him.

Then I laughed because there was no other sound left in me. “You touched my car?”

“I looked at it.”

“You had no right.”

“It was sitting dead off the road.”

“That doesn’t make it yours.”

“No.” He wiped his hand on a rag. “But it makes it useless.”

Mara made a small coughing sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

I glared at her.

She lifted both hands. “Don’t mind me. I just work here.”

I turned back to Cain. “What is wrong with it?”

“Battery’s gone. Alternator’s worse. Front tire is nearly bald.” His gaze dropped briefly to my boots, then rose again. “You weren’t making it far even if it started.”

My throat tightened. I hated how calmly he said it. Like he was telling me the weather. Like my escape had not just collapsed on the floor between us.

“How much?” I asked.

Cain’s face did not change. “More than you have.”

“You don’t know what I have.”

“I know you slept sitting up with your bag in your hand.”

My skin went cold while Mara stopped counting. It was obvious she was really listening.

I stared at Cain. “How do you know that?”

He said nothing.

The silence was answer enough.

My pulse kicked hard. “You stood outside my door.”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t stand outside your door.”

“But you know.”

His jaw tightened.

Mara slid the cash drawer shut quietly. “Ava…”

I stepped back from the bar. “No. I asked him a question.”

Cain looked at me for a long second.

Then he said, “Your light was on all night.”

That should have made me feel foolish. It did not. It made me feel seen and that was worse.

“I didn’t ask you to watch my light,” I said.

“No.”

“Then stop watching.”

“I’ll try.”

The answer was so unexpected that my anger tripped over itself. I did not know what to do with a man who did not argue properly.

I shifted the bag higher on my shoulder. “Fine. I’ll take my car somewhere else.”

“With what money?”

I froze even as Mara looked away, suddenly very interested in wiping the counter.

I hated them both.

I hated Greystone.

I hated the dead car waiting on the edge of town. I hated the empty feeling in my stomach. I hated Damian for being able to reach into my life even from miles away and turn every exit into a wall.

“I have money,” I said with gritted teeth.

Cain scoffed and reached into his pocket and placed my phone on the counter.

I stared at it. “Why do you have that?”

“You dropped it last night.”

I snatched it up and turned it on. The battery was low but alive.

For a second, hope rose sharp and foolish inside me. I opened my banking app with trembling fingers.

Password.

Face ID failed.

Password again.

The loading circle spun.

Then a message appeared.

ACCOUNT ACCESS TEMPORARILY RESTRICTED.

I stopped breathing.

No.

I tried another account.

Restricted.

Another.

Restricted.

A laugh pushed out of me but it had no humor in it.

Mara’s voice was soft. “Bad news?”

I locked the phone.

“No.”

Cain’s eyes sharpened.

I looked up at him. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was about to ask if you ate.”

That made me angrier than it should have.

“I’m not hungry.”

My stomach betrayed me instantly with a loud, empty growl.

Mara looked at the ceiling and Cain looked at me. I wanted the floor to open.

“Traitor,” I muttered to my stomach.

For one second, I thought Cain might smile.

He did not. But something eased around his mouth and was gone almost immediately.

“I can pay you back,” I said quickly. “For the room. For whatever repair you think my car needs. I just need a little time to move money around.”

“From the frozen accounts?”

I went still even as Mara swore under her breath.

Cain’s gaze did not soften but his voice lowered as he said, “I saw your face.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to say it out loud.”

“No. But pretending won’t fix the car.”

I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead. The bar suddenly felt too small. The walls too close.

The wolf-and-wheel symbol above the shelves stared down at me like it knew I had nowhere else to go. Outside the window, Greystone was waking slowly. A truck passed. A woman in a red coat crossed the street and looked through the glass too long before hurrying on.

This town watched everything.

I had chosen it because no one from my old life would think to find me here.

Now I wondered if I had walked into a place that did not let people leave.

“I’ll figure it out,” I said.

Cain relaxed both hands on the bar. The movement pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders. “You keep saying that.”

“Because I will.”

“You got no car.”

“I’ll walk.”

“No money.”

“I’ll find some.”

“No food.”

“I’ve missed breakfast before.”

His eyes flashed.

It was the first real sign of anger I had seen on him..

“Don’t make suffering sound like pride,” he saidnwotg a growl.

The words landed hard and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Cain saw and he stepped back immediately, as if to give me air. That single step did something strange to my chest.

I looked away.

Mara placed a plate on the counter just then. I was surprised because I had not seen her move. The plate had Toast, eggs and something fried and golden on the side. The smell hit me so suddenly my eyes burned.

“I didn’t order that,” I said.

“No,” Mara replied. “But I made it.”

“I can’t pay.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I’m not taking charity.”

“Then call it breakfast.”

I stared at the plate like it was a trap. Maybe it was. Kindness always had a price. Sometimes the price just came later, when you had already swallowed it.

I knew this from experience.

Cain pushed the plate slightly toward me.

I looked at him. “You too?”

“Eat.”

“You really have a problem with one-word orders.”

“You really have a problem with staying alive.”

Mara coughed again and this time, I nearly smiled. Then the smell of food twisted through me again and pride lost to hunger.

I set my bag down slowly and sat on the stool farthest from Cain. I picked up the fork with fingers that were still not steady.

The first bite almost undid me. In fact , I almost cried.

As I ate, Cain busied himself with the toolbox. Mara wiped glasses. For a few minutes, nobody asked me questions. Nobody told me what to do. Nobody looked at me like I was breaking, even though I was.

When I finished half the plate, Cain spoke out suddenly. “Work here.”

My fork stopped and I looked up out of shock, “What?”

“At The Pit.”

I stared at him.

Then at Mara.

Then back at him.

“No.”

“You need money.”

“I’m aware.”

“Car needs repairs.”

“Also aware.”

“You need somewhere to stay until you decide what’s next.”

“I am not working in your biker bar.”

Mara raised a finger. “Technically, it’s also a restaurant before seven.”

I looked around at the scarred tables, the dusty jukebox, the bottles behind the bar, and the faint blood-colored stain on one floorboard that I decided not to think about.

“Barely,” I said.

Mara grinned. “She’s not wrong.”

Cain ignored her. “You can clean tables. Help Mara. Stay upstairs.”

“No.”

“Temporary.”

“No.”

“Paid.”

“No.”

“Cash.”

My mouth closed at first and I didn't know how to react.

I pushed the plate away. “I said no.”

Cain studied me. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know you.”

“Good.”

“That’s not a good thing.”

“It means you won’t trust me easy.”

I frowned. “You want me not to trust you?”

“I want you alive long enough to decide.”

The words made the room too quiet again. I looked at him, really looked at him, and wished I had not.

There was no softness on Cain Harlow’s face. No charming smile. No sweet lie. He was scarred and inked and built like violence had taken human form.

But he had given me a locked door, had kept the men away and had not touched me.

Heck! He had even offered work instead of money I would owe.

That should not have mattered. But it did. It really did.

I looked down at my hands. The mark from my engagement ring was still there, pale around my finger.

A trap behind me.

A trap ahead.

“I don’t belong to you,” I finally said quietly.

Cain’s voice was just as quiet. “I know.”

My eyes lifted to his.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“If I work here, it doesn’t mean I’m with you.”

“Yes. It only means you work here.”

“If I stay upstairs, it doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”

“No.”

“If I decide to leave, I leave.”

Cain held my stare. For a moment, I thought he would argue. Thankfully, he did not.

“You leave,” he said.

The tightness in my chest loosened so suddenly it hurt.

Mara relaxed both elbows on the counter. “So? Are we hiring or are we all standing here pretending this isn’t happening?”

I looked at the door, then at my bag, then at the plate, then at Cain.

I didn't want to stay. God knows that I didn't.

But I had nowhere to run to. At least, not yet.

I picked up the fork again and pulled the plate back toward me.

Cain watched the movement but said nothing.

I took one more bite, swallowed and forced the words out before pride could choke me.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll work.”

Mara smiled just then. He only nodded once, like some silent agreement had been written between us.

I pointed the fork at him. “But I’m not wearing anything with a wolf on it.”

Mara laughed while Cain’s eyes dropped to the fork, then back to me. For the first time, something almost human moved across his face.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said and I could hear the smile in his voice. I hated that my heart reacted to that, that suddenly my body felt warm from listening to him.

Even as my heart started beating erratically from looking at him, the front door opened.

Cold morning air swept through The Pit. I turned sharply, fork still in my hand.

A man stepped inside, looked straight at me, and asked, “You the girl with the dead car?”

Cain went still beside the bar while Mara’s smile vanished.

And just like that, Greystone reminded me that nothing here came without a shadow.