All Chapters of Claimed by my Brother’s Best Friends : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Alyssa "Why didn't we take your bike?" I ask curiously as King drives down the familiar road towards Gray's house in the truck he rarely drives. His jaw clenches, hands tightening on the steering wheel with a possessiveness that always makes my heart race. "This is safer for you and the babies." "I'm perfectly safe on your bike," I argue, unable to hide the slight irritation in my voice. I was afraid of this—afraid he would start treating me like I'm fragile. "Not safe enough." King's tone is final, but his fingers brush against mine, his touch gentle and grounding. He intertwines our hands, his thumb grazing over my skin in a gesture that calms me. "But if you want to ride during the day, I'm all for it. People are just dumb as shit on the road at night. I'd rather be safe than sorry." I smile softly, satisfied with his answer. "Okay." We drive in a comfortable silence, the hum of the truck surrounding us. The miles slip by, my nerves growing with each one. After a

WARNING: This chapter is a little unhinged. Proceed with caution! King Holy. Fucking. Shit. Watching my kitten rip out tooth after tooth, I feel like my dick's about to implode. I didn't expect her to want to play tonight, but I should've known better. She's full of surprises—always has been. Blood splatters her face and clothes as she plunks each tooth onto the table, the metallic clink echoing in the room. She doesn't flinch, doesn't waver—just focuses on her work, the need for revenge fueling each movement. Drenched in the chaos she's created, she looks like a violent goddamn masterpiece. My chest swells, and the ache in my cock becomes unbearable. How the hell am I not supposed to fuck the shit out of her when she's like this? Niko and Mason will hardly believe their ears when I tell them just how perfect our girl is. As I continue observing from the sidelines, Phillips' screams ricochet off the walls, feeding the hunger inside me. My kitten is proving once

Alyssa Completely sated and boneless, I sit up and watch silently as King meticulously cleans his weapons after stuffing our clothes in a black trash bag. The blood we'd just had the most unhinged sex is now drying and caking on my skin, a visceral reminder of the woman I became tonight. Chief Phillips is gone, hanging on the wall with his vacant eyes fixed on me and the smell of death in the air. Maybe I should feel disgust or remorse for what happened here, but I don't. He got what was coming to him, and now countless women can sleep peacefully at night knowing they'll never have to encounter him again. I shift, feeling the delicious ache between my legs, and a satisfied smile curls on my lips. King glances back at me, his lips twitching with amusement. His obsession with me blazes in his eyes, like a wolf savoring its claim. "What's that face for, kitten? You're acting like I've never fucked you before." My smile widens into a smirk. "Not like that." "Not regretting

Nikolai "I'm sorry...we're doing what?" I nearly choke on my coffee, the hot liquid scalding the top of my mouth. It's five in the damn morning, and Alyssa, in all her sweet but chaotic glory, waited until the coffee hit my bloodstream to drop this bomb on us. Even so, I must've misheard her because there's no way in hell we're actually helping Christine with anything. Not only because I can't stand her and every time I see her face, I have very violent thoughts—but because she's blackmailing us. Holding our relationship with Alyssa over our heads like a loaded gun. And that's a level of manipulation I don't tolerate, no matter what the reason is. Mason, sitting beside me, doesn't say a word. He's cradling Zuri in one arm as she drinks her bottle, his free hand resting on her tiny foot in a protective way. I know he's either mentally dissecting the situation or trying to figure out how to gently tell Alyssa she's out of her damn mind without making our pregnant woman cry. The

War Why do I keep agreeing to do shit for this female? Even as I'm sitting across the street from the country club where Amanda Phillips is probably sipping overpriced mimosas and pretending her husband isn't a piece of shit, I still can't answer that fucking question. All I know is that the little psycho seems to change every time I see her. I thought she was just some little broken doll, but she's finding her fire—and learning how to use it. I'm not easily impressed, but damn. Watching her evolve is...addictive. Logan's voice scratches at the back of my skull, a persistent itch I can't ignore. You want her, War. Just as badly as I do. Shut the fuck up, Logan. What? I'm just saying...you think about her all the time. Admit it. Stay in your corner. I grit my teeth, glaring at nothing in particular. I don't bother you this damn much when you're in control. I'm barely ever in control when you're around her, he argues, frustration lacing his voice. That's be