Claimed By My Best Friend's Biker Brother

The bass from the speakers thudded against my ears as I squeezed through the crowded bar, balancing a tray of half-empty beer glasses while dodging wandering hands and slurred compliments.

“Hey, sweetheart!”

“Over here, gorgeous!”

A whistle cut through the air behind me. I didn’t even flinch.

The smell of stale beer and cheap cologne clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Musty, tipsy men filled every booth and barstool, their laughter loud and careless.

I forced a polite smile, the kind I’d perfected years ago—sweet enough to earn tips and detached enough to protect myself. “Another round?” I asked a table of red-faced businessmen who were already swaying in their seats.

They cheered. Anything for a large tip, I guess.

Across the bar, Megan leaned against the counter, giggling at something one of the younger guys said. Her hand rested on his arm a second too long. I rolled my eyes but didn’t judge. Flirting meant money, and money meant survival.

My phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

I ignored it at first—customers came first—but it buzzed again, and again.

Frowning, I slipped toward the back hallway near the storage room, where the noise dulled into a manageable hum. I pulled out my phone.

A notification from the celebrity blog I followed popped up.

BREAKING: NHL ROOKIE SENSATION LIAM CARTER AND MODEL SOPHIA VANCE CALL IT QUITS.

My breath caught. “What?” I whispered.

I tapped the article, my heart racing as I skimmed the paragraphs. Liam Carter, or Liam as I called him personally, was the star rookie of the season. Hockey’s golden boy. The city’s newest obsession and my best friend of twelve years.

The same boy who taught me how to ride a bike, who split his lunch with me in fifth grade when I forgot mine. The same boy I’d fallen in love with at ten years old and never fallen out of love with.

“Oh no…” My chest tightened as I read that it had been ‘mutual’ and ‘amicable.’ I knew better. I’d seen the way Sophia drained him with her constant demands and subtle digs. The way she clung to him the moment he became hockey’s rising star.

My screen flashed. Incoming Call from Liam.

I answered immediately.

“Chloeeee…” he slurred, his voice thick with hiccups. “I neeeed youuu… pleaseee…”

My stomach dropped. “Liam? Are you drunk? Where are you?”

“She left me,” he mumbled. “Sophia left me.”

I was already moving. “Stay where you are. I’m coming.” The season had just started. He shouldn’t be drinking. Not like this. I tore off my apron and hurried toward Megan, who was now perched on a barstool, laughing with the bartender.

“Hey—” I started, breathless. “Can you cover my shift? Something urgent came up.”

She scowled. “Don’t you see how full this bar is?”

I glanced at the clock. One hour left. “Please. Just an hour. I owe you.”

She groaned dramatically but waved me off. “Fine. But you’re buying me lunch tomorrow.”

Relief washed over me. “Deal. Thank you!” I didn’t wait for anything else.

By the time I reached Liam’s building, my lungs burned from running. His teammate, Tyler, was hoisting a limp Liam toward the elevator when I arrived, his face etched with annoyance.

"Finally," Tyler grunted as the elevator doors slid open. "I love the guy, but I’m not his babysitter. He’s been drinking scotch like it's Gatorade."

"Thank you, Tyler. I’ve got him," I said, stepping under Liam’s arm to take some of his weight.

He mumbled incoherently as we maneuvered him into the elevator and up to his penthouse. Tyler helped drop him onto the couch before shaking his head.

“He’s your problem now,” he huffed, already heading for the door.

The door clicked shut behind him, and I turned to Liam. “What the hell, Liam? You never get this drunk.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes glassy and red. “She left me, Chloe. Sophia left me.”

And just like that, my irritation melted. He looked wrecked, completely broken. “I loved her…” he choked out. “I did everything for her.”

Each word felt like a tiny blade sliding into my heart. I sat beside him, brushing his hair back gently. “I know you did.”

“I wasn’t enough,” he mumbled drunkenly.

You were too much for her, I wanted to say. Instead, I stood and grabbed a glass of water. “Drink.”

He groaned, but I was firm. “Drink, Liam.”

He obeyed reluctantly, taking slow sips while I stayed close. I listened as he rambled about memories, about how he thought she was ‘the one,’ about how empty the penthouse felt without her.

I hated myself for the tiny, selfish spark of relief flickering inside me. Was it wrong to be happy they broke up? Not just because she was toxic, but because maybe, just maybe, this meant I had a chance.

He rested his head against my shoulder at some point, his breathing evening out. I stayed until he was sober enough to walk and guided him to his bedroom, helping him sit on the edge of the bed.

“You’re okay,” I murmured. “Get some sleep.”

“Don’t go…” he mumbled.

My heart stuttered. I wanted nothing more than to cuddle up in his strong arms, but I held myself back, afraid it might strain our friendship. “I’ll be here tomorrow,” I promised softly.

Once he was asleep, I stood in the doorway for a long moment.

His penthouse was sleek and modern—floor-to-ceiling windows, marble counters, city lights glittering below. A life that was a stark contrast to mine; it almost felt unreal.

Then there was me. Studio apartment with overdue bills and a debt I didn’t ask for. A debt my parents left behind for me to inherit. I sent Megan a quick text thanking her before stepping out into the freezing night.

The bus stop was three blocks away.

I wrapped my jacket tighter around myself, my breath fogging in the air. The silence of the night was broken by the low, guttural growl of an engine. I froze. Behind me, the roar of engines ignited, and three sets of headlights cut through the darkness, pinning me like a deer in the woods.

Bikers. The Iron Vipers.

My stomach dropped into my shoes. I started walking faster, my heart hammering against my ribs. Please, no, not tonight. I knew that sound, the silhouette of those heavy frames.

They circled once, then again, laughing and revving their engines obnoxiously loud. One of them veered closer than necessary, the wind from his speed nearly knocking me off balance.

“Run, little Chloe!” someone shouted.

My chest tightened, legs moving before my brain caught up. I ran, and they chased. Engines roared behind me, close enough that I could feel the vibration in my bones.

Tears blurred my vision as I sprinted down the sidewalk, my lungs screaming. “Please!” I sobbed under my breath.

They sped past me at the last second, laughing hysterically before tearing down the street and disappearing into the night.

Just to scare me. Just to remind me.

I collapsed against a brick wall, shaking violently. Sweat soaked through my clothes despite the cold. This was the life I lived because of a debt.

A debt my parents left behind when they died. A debt owed to men who rode motorcycles and smiled while they hunted me for sport.

I wiped my tears roughly and forced myself to stand when the bus finally pulled up. Tomorrow, I’d smile again. I’d serve drinks and pretend my world wasn’t slowly closing in around me.