Page 16 of Claimed By Lock

He moves fast — faster than I expect. His hand closes around my arm, fingers digging in, yanking me toward him.

"You think he can protect you?" His face is inches from mine. "You think because he's got a patch, that means something? I've got brothers too. And when they hear how you've been whoring around with the enemy, they're going to want to send a message."

"Let go of me."

"I might not be able to stop them."

"Letgoof me."

I wrench my arm free, stumbling back. There's a lamp on the table — cheap, heavy base. I grab it like a weapon.

"Get out of my apartment. Now."

Colt stares at me. For a long moment, I think he's going to lunge.

Instead, he steps back. Holds up his hands.

"Okay. I'll go. For now." He moves toward the door, pausing beside me. "But this isn't over, Josie. You chose the wrong side, and that has consequences."

He's gone before I can respond. The door clicks shut.

I stand there holding the lamp for a long time. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. The adrenaline drains away, leaving something cold and hollow.

He was in my apartment. My space. The one place I'm supposed to be safe.

I fumble for my phone. I could call Maria. The cops. Handle this myself like I've been handling everything since I left him.

But I don't want to handle it myself.

I want Lock.

I find his number and hit call.

He answers on the second ring. "Hey, you."

"Colt was here." The words come out shaky. "He broke into my apartment. He was waiting when I got home."

Silence. Then, low and dangerous: "Are you hurt?"

"No. He grabbed my arm but I'm okay. I'm—" My voice cracks. "I made him leave."

"I'm coming over."

"Lock, I don't know why I called, I just?—"

"Josie." His voice softens. "I'm coming over. Don't argue."

I don't argue.

He's at my door in twenty minutes.

When I open it, he doesn't say anything. He just looks at me — that intense focus that sees everything — and then he's pulling me into his arms.

I break.

I don't cry, but I shake. I shake against his chest while he holds me, one hand cradling my head, the other pressed flat against my spine.

"I've got you," he murmurs. "You're safe. I've got you."