Sold to the biker boss

Chapter 10

Layla’s POV

Chloe didn’t let go of me for a long time.

We stood there in the middle of the fortress hallway, surrounded by noise and engines and strangers, but it felt like none of that mattered. It was just us. Like every bad night we’d survived together back home. Like we were kids again hiding from the world.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” I said, my voice shaking.

She pulled back just enough to look at me. “You think I wouldn’t come? You disappear like that, I was losing my mind.”

I laughed, then cried, then laughed again. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you something. Anything.”

She grabbed my hands. “Later. First—you okay?”

That question hit harder than I expected.

I nodded. Then shook my head. “I don’t even know how to answer that.”

She sighed. “Figures.”

We went into the room Jax had given me. It was quiet in there, thick walls, heavy door. Safer.

Chloe sat on the bed. I dropped onto the chair across from her.

For a moment, we just stared at each other.

Then she said, “I saw your dad.”

My stomach twisted. “You did?”

“Yeah,” she said. “The day Jax came looking for you.”

My heart jumped. “Jax was there?”

She nodded. “On the porch. Big. Quiet. Scary, if I’m being honest.”

That sounded like him.

“And dad?” I asked.

Chloe leaned back, crossing her arms. “Counting money. A lot of it.”

That felt like a punch to the ribs.

“He didn’t look worried,” she went on. “Didn’t look scared. Just nervous like someone afraid of being caught, not like someone missing his kid.”

I stared at the floor. “So he didn’t ask about me?”

She shook her head slowly. “Not once.”

That hurt more than anything Jax had said to me.

I swallowed hard. “I guess… I already knew that. Hearing it just makes it real.”

Chloe’s voice softened. “Lay, I don’t think he cared the way a dad should.”

“I know,” I whispered.

Quiet filled the room again.

Then I said, “I’m happy you’re here.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

“But I’m unhappy too,” I added quickly.

Her smile faded. “Why?”

“Because I dragged you into this,” I said. “Into my mess. My danger.”

She frowned. “You didn’t drag me. I chose this.”

“You didn’t know everything,” I said. “And you still don’t.”

She leaned forward. “Then tell me.”

So I did.

I told her about the van.

About the auction.

About the men shouting numbers like I wasn’t human.

I told her about seeing Jax again under those lights. About how my knees almost gave out. About how I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or run or collapse.

Her mouth fell open. “Layla… oh my God.”

“I was attacked,” I said quietly. “More than once. Men tried to grab me. Follow me. Take me.”

She reached for my hand. “Jesus.”

“And this place,” I continued, “this life—it’s not normal. Guns. Enemies. Men who don’t care about laws.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. I noticed.”

I took a deep breath. “That’s why I called you. Not because I wanted you in danger. But because I needed someone who knew me before all this. Someone real.”

Her eyes softened. “You could’ve been alone.”

“I was,” I said. “And I hated it.”

She squeezed my hand. “Okay. Now tell me about him.”

I sighed. “Jax?”

“The scary biker king,” she said. “Yeah. Him.”

I smiled despite myself. “You know we were together years ago. Before all this. Before he became… this.”

She studied my face. “You still love him.”

It wasn’t a question.

I looked away. “I don’t know what I feel.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she said.

I nodded. “He’s the reason I’m alive. And the reason I’m terrified.”

She leaned back. “That’s… complicated.”

“You have no idea.”

I took a deep breath. “Chloe, I need to give you a choice.”

Her brows pulled together. “What kind of choice?”

“You can stay,” I said. “With me. Here. Or you can leave. I’ll help you get out safe. No hard feelings. No guilt.”

She stared at me. “You serious?”

“Yes,” I said. “Because this isn’t just hiding anymore. This is a war.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Then she smiled—slow, real, familiar. “You really think I’d leave you now?”

My eyes burned. “You don’t have to be brave for me.”

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m loyal.”

I broke then. I hugged her hard.

“I just want my best friend close,” I whispered.

She hugged me back. “You’ve got her.”

Outside the room, engines roared. Men laughed. Life went on in this strange, dangerous world.

But inside that room, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.

And that meant everything.

We sat like that a while, just holding on. The noise from outside felt farther away now, like we were in our own little world.

Finally, Chloe pulled back and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Alright. So what're the rules?"

I blinked. "Rules?"

"Yeah. In this place. What do I not do so I don't get shot?"

I almost laughed. It was such a Chloe question—practical, straight to the point. "Don't go near the gate without Jax or Grizz saying so. Don't touch the bikes. If the men get loud at night, just stay in your room. And... don't ask Jax too many questions."

She raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't like questions?"

"He doesn't like talking," I said. "Mostly he just gives orders."

Chloe nodded, taking it in. Her eyes scanned the room—the solid door, the high window, the bare walls. "It's a prison."

"It's protection."

"Same thing, depending on who you ask."

I couldn't argue with that. She was right.

A heavy knock rattled the door. We both jumped.

"It's me," came Jax's voice from the hallway. Low. Flat.

I opened the door. He stood there filling the frame, his eyes moving from me to Chloe and back again. He didn't step inside.

"Everything okay in here?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "We're just talking."

His gaze stayed on Chloe for a second too long. "Good. Dinner's in twenty. Kitchen down the hall. Don't be late."

He turned to leave.

"Jax," Chloe said.

He stopped, looked back over his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said. "For letting me stay."

He gave a single, slow nod. "You're here for her. That's enough for me."

Then he walked away, his boots heavy on the concrete floor.

Chloe let out a breath she'd been holding. "He's intense."

"You get used to it," I said, though I wasn't sure that was true.

"Don't think I want to," she muttered.

We walked to the kitchen when the time came. The room was big, loud, full of men loading plates with stew and bread. They went quiet when we walked in. All eyes on us—on her.

Grizz stood up from the head of a long table. "Layla. This must be Chloe."

"Yeah," I said. "Chloe, this is Grizz. He's... second in command."

Grizz offered a hand. Chloe shook it, her hand looking small in his. "Welcome," he said. "Eat. Sit where you want."

We filled our bowls and found a spot at the far end of a table. The men went back to their talking, but the air felt different now. Watchful.

Chloe ate slowly, her eyes scanning the room. Taking inventory. I knew that look—she was measuring every man, every exit, every threat.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

She met my eyes. "Just figuring out the players."

"Don't," I said. "Just eat. Keep your head down."

She smiled a little. "Since when do you keep your head down?"

I didn't have an answer for that.

After dinner, we went back to my room. The desert night was cold now, and the compound had settled into a low rumble of engines and distant voices.

Chloe stood by the window, looking out at the dark shapes of bikes and buildings. "You trust him?" she asked without turning around.

"Who? Jax?"

"Yeah."

I thought about it. "I trust him to keep me alive, and saved me when I was about to taken. Beyond that... I don't know."

She nodded, still looking out. "That's a start, I guess."