Claimed by Thunder

1. Prologue

Prologue

Thunder – Age Thirty Years Old

I slowly lick my bottom lip as I watch three newbie prospects load up our van full of ammo, guns, and weed.

They look shit fucking scared and that has me rolling my eyes.

I mean for fuck’s sake, Allan, the tall skinny idiot keeps looking left and right before passing a crate over to Cooper, who I have seen even roll his eyes five times despite being nervous.

I swear to fuck, you just can’t get good prospects these days. When I prospected for the Rebels MC, a club I grew up in, I had to work my ass off. I had to prove for a whole year that I earned my patch on my love and dedication for the club and not because I was born into it.

I had to learn to shoot and aim at a target. I had to clean up piss and used condoms every fucking day because brothers were dirty dogs. I had to stay awake for over twenty-four hours on gate duty, and I had to be at every fucking brother's beck and call even when I was in the middle of something.

I was a club brat, meaning my prospecting phase was harder than these idiots. Maybe I need to speak to Doc about upping the ante because this shit is just pathetic.

I tilt my head and watch Allan jump as one of the other prospects slams the van's driver's door before eyeing the trees behind me.

Is it just me, or does this fucker seem jumpier than a normal prospect would be?

“Fuck me, Allan wouldn’t last fight minutes in a shootout,” Ink, The Untamed Hell Fire’s Secretary, a club we’re affiliated with, says, and I hum and counter, “More like five seconds,” as I check our surroundings, before he asks, “Why in the fuck is he acting so shifty?” Confirming my thoughts from a moment ago and I look to see the brother frowning so I look back at the prospect, but I raise a brow.

Allan looks around as his hands shake, handing over another crate, then checks his watch, and his fingers twitch as he eyes the old airfield, especially the surroundings that Anchor researched and found was the best place to swap the merchandise.

He’s right, it is, and it’s halfway between Wincher and Dallas.

Making our runs a day trip instead of multiple.

With all the officer brothers settled down with kids and old ladies it makes them fucking happier.

“Because he’s most likely tipped off the feds not on our payroll for a lump sum,” I sigh, already coming up with a conclusion and Ink growls, but I wave my hand at him and confess, “There’s a blocker in place with the prospects, so if he was trying to lead them to us, they would have lost him an hour into the journey.

Dirty put it in place a few years ago as a precaution after having several prospects turned, and with them being so green, it’s easier this way. ”

“That is a good fucking idea,” he mutters as I grab my phone and quickly bring up the chat between Dirty and me.

Me – Allan is looking shifty, side-eyeing the place, and keeps checking his watch.

“Fuck me, when I prospected, I had to hand my phone in every night to have it searched, and I grew up in the fucking club,” he grunts, and I nod because yep, sounds about right.

I press send before looking back at the prospect, only to silently groan when he checks his phone, something prospects are forbidden to do, and I know he’ll see he has no signal.

Fuck’s sake.

“Doc has a sedative, right?” Ink confirms, and I grunt, “Yeah,” before I turn around and notice him talking to Axel, who…

What the fuck?

“Ink, why is Axel's hair sparkling in the sun?” I ask, completely confused, because I swear it’s sparkling.

“What?” Ink asks as he looks where I’m looking, and then begins to laugh, catching their attention.

Doc raises a dark brow at me, while an oblivious Axel frowns. I shake my head as I try my hardest not to laugh, already understanding.

Fuck I love the Untamed old ladies, they are right up my alley.

For years, every time their men have pissed them off, they play pranks on them.

When I say pranks, I mean putting shit in their shampoo, respraying their bikes, sending male strippers and dildos to their affiliated clubs…

It is fucking hilarious, and it all started with Megan and Slicer's little girl who gave me plenty of fucking ideas.

Three years ago, I caused shit for the brothers, nothing like what the Untamed women do. Though, in my defense, I did it to keep the brothers in the club and only I got the consequences, but the ideas did come from them.

The officer brothers, men I grew up with, liked to fucking mess up a lot.

They decided the club was to blame, not the people surrounding the club wanting a brother’s patch.

I may have caused myself harm just to get them back into the club, to see that the club wasn’t at fault and to not break their oaths.

I fucked my bike up more times than I can count, the last time crashing it into the club's gate when Ace, our club’s secretary, refused to come back to the club.

I’ve fucked up my knee completely, pain throbs from time to time, especially after a lengthy ride.

I’ve also fucked up my shoulder, but I can’t say that I regret it because the brothers stayed, they’re here.

Fair enough, Ace never moved back into his home behind the clubhouse, opting to move into his old lady’s family home until they outgrow it, but he’s still around, he’s still a brother.

I just wish I didn’t fucking feel so disconnected, like I’ve lost sight of who I am. I began feeling like this when I accidentally hit my little sister over the head with a baseball bat. I could have killed her because of my stupid decisions.

Brit had lost her memory four and a half years ago, no thanks to a woman obsessed with Doc because of his own father.

I thought maybe if I pretended to hit her like I had when we were kids, then she’d remember.

But fuck, instead she didn’t duck, and I knocked her out, but she did get her memories back, so I guess that’s a fucking win.

I’ve just felt disconnected since, off somehow, which thankfully the club hasn’t noticed because that disconnection has increased with the consent pain that I’m in.

“Axel, what in the fuck did you do to Annalise this time?” Ink cackles and I shake my head as Axel frowns in confusion at his brother.

“Pres, you got a minute?” I ask Doc, humor lacing my tone at Axel's expense, and he nods while grinning at Axel's hair.

“Fuck, I’m glad our women aren’t like this,” he chuckles as he walks over, and Ink laughs and heads over to his brother, who probably either allowed a woman too close or broke something of his old lady’s again.

She can’t be pregnant again because the punishment is too tame…

“You mean except for Molly?” I remind him, and he winces, probably remembering the massive PVA glue balloon bomb that landed on his head at the club's diner, but was meant for Ace because Molly felt a little insecure.

What started as her trying to get him to fire her after he forced her to waitress at the diner when she wrecked his bike.

Or more like was pushed into the bike by her horrid stepsister, turned into her reminding him that she needed him.

Every time, he doesn’t get angry, instead, Ace cleans off and sits with her while she works in the diner's kitchen.

Their love is something I only dreamed of having, but I’ve never been that lucky.

All the women in town know brothers are settling down.

They are aware I’m one of the last brothers standing, except for a few newly patched brothers who are nowhere near ready to settle down.

They all only want me to get my leather.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve dabbled, I’ve enjoyed the attention, but fuck, it’s getting old, I’m getting old.

“Molly is a sweetheart, and technically, that balloon was meant for Ace,” he mutters, and I hum as I look back at Allan and notice him taking pictures while the other prospects are preoccupied, and I groan, “You got a sedative on you, Doc?”

I know he does, he always carries them as a precaution.

“Why?” he questions, and I nod to Allan, causing him to follow my head nod, and he curses as the idiot prospect moves his phone around like he’s recording.

Fucking hell.

Putting his hand in his cut pocket, Doc grabs the sedative, and I grumble, “These prospects are getting fucking annoying…” and Doc snorts as he hands over the needle.

Time for Allan to go nighty fucking night.

***

Laughter echoes around me four hours later, and I smile slightly as Cole, Trigger's son, and Caleb, Dirty's son, run after Lyra, Dirty's adoptive daughter, their grins as big as a fucking house, bringing me some joy despite feeling disconnected.

The kids, they’re the club's future and I fucking love them to pieces, I just… fuck.

I feel like I need to leave for a while, to go for a ride.

Which is fucked up considering I’ve just spent years trying to keep this club together.

I’ve been the one trying to keep the brothers from trying to blame the club for all their problems, but I think I need space.

I need to find me again, the fun-loving uncle and brother because that guy, he’s nowhere to be seen.

I know the pain in my shoulder and knee isn’t helping my mood, then add in the not sleeping because of the pain.

I feel a body sit next to me on the swing bench before a head lays on my shoulder. I smile as I press a kiss against my sister's caramel hair before watching the kids play while their parents chat.

“Where are the kids?” I ask Brittany.

“With Canine inside, Asher thought you needed me,” she murmurs as she links her arm through mine. I sigh as I eye Doc from near the BBQ, his eyes solely on me, concern etching off him.

Now why am I not surprised?

“Guess nothing gets past him, huh?” I mumble, and she snorts, “Nope…” then demands, “Talk to me, or I’ll go grab the bat.”

My lips twitch as I watch the kids, my mind running so fucking fast I feel like it’s going to explode.