Claimed By The Iron Reaper’s Son

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Ava’s pov

The morning came much too quickly.

A sharp, loud banging on my bedroom door woke me up with a violent jump. My eyes snapped open, and for a few seconds, I had no idea where I was. I stared up at the blank ceiling, my heart racing fast inside my chest. Then, I saw the thick metal bars on the window, and the entire nightmare from last night came rushing back into my mind. I was a prisoner in the Iron Reapers clubhouse.

"Get up, Ava!" Sarah’s voice called out from the other side of the heavy wooden door. "It is seven-thirty. The kitchen needs to be ready by eight, and the boys are going to be starving. Let's go!"

I heard the sound of the key turning in the lock.

Click.

The door swung open, and Sarah walked inside. She was already dressed in her usual black t-shirt and jeans, her long blonde ponytail swinging behind her. She didn't look angry, but she looked like she was on a strict mission to get things done. She looked down at me sitting on the edge of the twin bed, still wearing the clothes from the day before, which now smelled heavily of stale cigarette smoke and cheap beer.

"Go wash your face in the bathroom," Sarah said gently, pointing to the small side door. "I left some clean clothes for you in the dresser drawers last night. Put them on. They aren't fancy, but they are clean and comfortable for working in a hot kitchen."

"Okay," I whispered. My voice sounded small, rough, and completely tired.

I stood up from the bed. Every single muscle in my body felt incredibly sore. My feet throbbed painfully from standing behind that long wooden bar for so many hours last night. I walked into the tiny bathroom, splashed cold water on my face to wake myself up, and looked in the mirror. My eyes were red and puffy from crying in the dark, and my skin looked pale. I looked like a ghost of the girl I used to be just twenty-four hours ago.

I walked back into the bedroom and opened the wooden dresser drawers. Inside, Sarah had placed a few plain black t-shirts and two pairs of simple denim jeans. I pulled them on, finding that they fit my small frame well enough. I tied my dark hair back into a tight bun to keep it out of my face, took a deep, steadying breath, and walked out into the hallway where Sarah was waiting for me.

"Good," Sarah said, looking me over with a small nod of approval. "Follow me to the kitchen. The morning shift is hard work, but if you keep your hands moving, the time will pass by much faster."

She led me back down the long, dimly lit hallway. The clubhouse was completely different in the morning. The loud, bass-heavy rock music was gone, replaced by an eerie, heavy silence. The main bar room, which had been packed with wild, shouting bikers a few hours ago, was now empty and smelled strongly of old alcohol and cleaning chemicals. A few lightbulbs flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the empty leather couches and the cold pool table.

We walked past the bar and entered a heavy metal door that led into a massive commercial kitchen. It was filled with long stainless-steel counters, giant metal refrigerators, and a huge stove that was already radiating a large amount of heat. The air inside smelled like strong black coffee and sizzling grease.

"Your first job is the coffee," Sarah said, pointing to two giant metal coffee pots sitting on the counter. "These bikers drink coffee like it is water. Fill them up with water, put the coffee grounds in the top, and flip the switch. Then, you are going to start cracking eggs. We need at least four dozen eggs cracked into this big metal bowl."

She handed me a giant silver bowl and a massive carton of white eggs. I set them down on a clean metal counter and got to work right away.

At first, my hands were shaking so much that I accidentally dropped a piece of eggshell into the bowl. I felt a sudden wave of panic, thinking Sarah would scream at me or call Jake, but she just walked over, picked the shell out with a clean spoon, and gave me a encouraging smile.

"Take your time, kiddo," Sarah said softly, turning over a huge pile of thick bacon strips on the hot grill. "Nobody expects you to be a professional chef on your first day. Just focus on what you are doing."

"Thank you," I said quietly, feeling a tiny bit of the tension leave my shoulders.

For the next thirty minutes, the only sounds in the kitchen were the cracking of eggs, the loud sizzling of bacon, and the bubbling of the fresh coffee. I focused all of my energy on my hands, trying desperately not to think about my father, my college classes, or the fact that I was trapped in a criminal fortress.

By eight o'clock, the kitchen door pushed open with a loud creak, and the heavy thud of leather boots filled the room.

My body went completely rigid. I turned my head slowly and saw three large, patched members of the Iron Reapers walk into the kitchen. They looked tired, their eyes bloodshot, and their heavy leather vests looked dark and imposing under the bright kitchen lights. They didn't look at me right away; they walked straight toward the giant coffee pots.

"Is the coffee ready, Sarah?" one of the men demanded in a rough, morning voice. He was a massive man with a thick beard and a faded skull tattoo on his forearm.

"It's ready, Big Tom," Sarah answered cheerfully, not looking up from her grill. "Ava just finished making it. Ava, grab some clean mugs from the shelf and pour the men some coffee."

I swallowed the lump of fear in my throat and reached for the thick ceramic mugs on the high shelf. My fingers were cold. I filled three mugs to the brim with the steaming, dark liquid and carried them over to the counter where the three bikers were standing.

Big Tom looked down at me, his dark eyes studying my face for a second. "Well, look at that. The bar girl cooks too," he said, taking the mug from my hand. He took a long, deep sip and let out a satisfied grunt. "Good coffee, kid. Strong. Just how we like it."

"Thank you," I murmured, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

The men grabbed their coffee and walked out into the dining area, laughing and talking in low voices. I let out a long breath I didn't realize I was holding and walked back to my station by the eggs.

"See?" Sarah whispered, coming over to scoop the scrambled eggs into a giant metal serving tray. "They are just hungry men in the morning. Treat them like regular customers, and they won't give you any trouble."

Before I could answer, the kitchen door pushed open once again.

This time, the air in the room instantly felt different. It felt heavier, colder, and much more dangerous. I didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up straight, and a strange, familiar heat crawled up my skin.

Jake Callahan walked into the kitchen.

He was wearing his heavy black leather vest over a simple gray t-shirt that showed off the massive muscles in his arms. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his stormy gray eyes looked completely flat and unreadable. He walked with a slow, controlled power that made him look like a predator checking his territory.

"Morning, Jake," Sarah said, turning off the grill. "Your breakfast is almost ready. Sit down at the end table."

Jake didn't answer her right away. Instead, his sharp gray eyes slid across the room until they locked onto my face. He looked at my clean black t-shirt, my tied-back hair, and my hands, which were currently holding a metal spatula. He tracked my every movement, his jaw set tight in a hard line.

"Is she doing her work?" Jake asked Sarah, his deep, gravelly voice vibrating through the warm air of the kitchen.

"She is doing great," Sarah replied, placing a huge plate of bacon, eggs, and toast onto the counter. "She made the coffee and helped me with all the prep work. She doesn't complain."

Jake walked over to the counter, his massive frame blocking out the light from the kitchen window. He picked up the plate of food, but he didn't leave. He stood right in front of me, looking down at my smaller body with an intense, suffocating focus.

"Did you sleep?" he asked me suddenly. His voice was very low, meant only for my ears.

I looked up, meeting his stormy gaze for the first time today. I remembered the cold sound of his key turning in my lock last night, reminding me that he was my captor. But I also remembered how his large hand had felt against the small of my back, protecting me.

"I slept as much as I could," I said, my voice shaking slightly but holding its ground. "It's hard to sleep when you are locked inside a prison cell."

One of Jake's thick eyebrows twitched slightly, but his face remained a perfect mask of stone. "It's not a prison cell, Ava. It's a bedroom. And the lock is there to keep people out just as much as it is to keep you in. Remember what happened with Cole last night. This compound is full of dangerous men, and you are safer behind a locked door when I am not watching."

"I don't want to be safe behind your locked doors," I whispered fiercely, leaning a fraction closer to the counter so Sarah wouldn't hear us. "I want to go home. I want my life back."

Jake leaned down slightly, his dark face coming so close to mine that I could smell the familiar, dangerous scent of leather and wood smoke radiating from his skin. His gray eyes darkened, becoming sharp and focused like a laser.

"Your old life is dead, princess," he murmured, his gravelly voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet growl that sent a wild shiver straight down my spine. "Accept it. The sooner you realize that you belong to the Reapers now, the easier your days here will be. Do your work in the kitchen, keep your mouth shut, and don't make me come save you a third time."

He pulled away before I could say another word, turning around and walking out of the kitchen with his plate of food, the heavy metal door swinging shut behind him.

I stood there, gripping the edge of the stainless-steel counter so tightly my fingers turned white. My heart was hammering wildly against my ribs once again. Jake Callahan was a monster who had stolen my freedom, but as I looked at the closed kitchen door, I realized something terrifying.

His dark, dangerous presence didn't just bring me pure fear anymore. It brought a strange, electric spark that made my blood run hot, and I had absolutely no idea how I was going to fight against it.