Pampered By The Ruthless Biker Boss

CLAIRE POV:

I was holed up in a cheap motel on the edge of town, the damp room reeking of bleach and stagnant carpet.

The heavy drapes were pinched shut, slicing the room into shadow save for the harsh blue glow of my laptop screen.

The display was split.

On the left, I cracked the partition on the black USB drive from Leo's lockbox—inputting the vile password 'LeoJennaForever' that popped open his audio log detailing how he bled my father dry and planned to backstab the Iron Serpents MC.

On the right side of the screen, the live 4K stream from behind the buck's glass eye flickered to life.

Movement.

At the exact second the cabin door was kicked inward on the feed, my phone vibrated violently against the thin mattress.

A text from Leo flashed on the lock screen. "Thinking of you out in Chicago, babe. Club business dragged on and my head is pounding, so turn in early. Goodnight, love you."

A bitter scoff caught in my throat as I shifted my eyes back to the monitor.

On screen, Leo slammed Jenna against the log wall beside the entrance, his hands buried in her tangled hair, his mouth tearing over her neck with greedy, messy desperation.

"I missed you, baby," he mumbled against her skin, breathless and frantic.

Jenna giggled, a breathy, performative sound as she planted both palms flat on his chest, playfully shoving him back an inch.

"Not so fast, Leo. What if your obedient little fiancée, Claire, finds out? She'll lose her mind."

Leo's lips curled into an ugly, contemptuous sneer.

"Her? That frigid, pathetic ghost? Six years tucked away in boarding schools and prep classes probably made her forget how to touch a man. She doesn't know how to do a single damn thing except follow orders like a trained dog."

The words landed like a serrated blade in my chest.

A cold fist clamped around my stomach, squeezing until the breath left my lungs.

My knuckles turned stark white against the edge of the keyboard.

Six years of loneliness, six years of waiting, reduced to an insult from the boy I had once bled for.

On the screen, Jenna draped her arms around his neck, purring with feline triumph.

"So when is she actually dragging herself back? I'd hate for her to walk in on us playing house."

"Who gives a shit?" Leo shrugged, his expression entirely indifferent. "As long as she shows up in white on Saturday to sign over the deed, she can rot out of state forever. If it weren't for the Nightingale land and the Tucker family name, I would've cut her loose years ago."

He crowded her against the wall again, dropping his voice to a dirty, guttural rasp as his hands slid down to yank at the zipper of her dress.

"Besides, you're a thousand times better than her," Leo groaned, burying his face in the hollow of Jenna's throat. "You actually know how to make a real man feel alive. Claire? Touching her would be like fucking a wooden doll."

I stared at the screen, my expression freezing into stone.

The phantom ache in my chest went dead, replaced by a toxic, razor-sharp clarity.

I hit the record trigger on the console, capturing every panting breath, every sordid confession, and every frame of their bodies tumbling onto the crumpled bearskin rug in vivid, undeniable high definition.

Thirty minutes later, it was over.

I clipped the five most devastating minutes of the encounter, bundling the graphic visual footage with Leo's candid admission about using the "worthless land" to buy his way into the club.

I uploaded the package directly to Steve's encrypted server, formatted both flash drives, and destroyed the hardware.

My phone buzzed.

A text from Skylar. "Master projection hub is locked and loaded. Awaiting the queen's entrance."

I dialed her immediately.

"Skylar, change of plans," I said, my voice steady, stripped of all vulnerability. "I'm not walking into that ballroom alone. Get me a second ticket. I want you by my side."

"Done," Skylar answered without missing a beat. "I'll register as your personal assistant. We take them down together."

I ended the call and walked over to the window, peeling back the edge of the curtain.

Out in the valley, Coyote Creek slept under an indifferent moon.

"Enjoy your little warm-up, Leo," I whispered to the glass. "Because come Saturday, every single person in this town will watch you burn."