His Savage Claim

The neon lights of the club flicker and dance across the walls, casting colourful reflections on the polished surfaces. The place is alive, buzzin' with energy and excitement, filled with people laughin', drinkin', and enjoyin' the night. I couldn’t help but smirk at the irony of it all. They are throwin' me a leavers party, yet here I was, knowin' full well that it's not needed. But who was I to complain? There is food, booze, women, and more food—definitely more food.

I sit at a table near the back, where King is currently givin' me a rundown of the plan. He is goin' on about how I should approach Ebony, about how I need to be discreet and not make it obvious that I had made a slight detour to see her. As if I'm not smart enough to keep the truth hidden when necessary. I give him a nod, half-listenin', more interested in the whiskey in front of me and the pulsatin' rhythm of the music.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Big King walks in, instantly gettin' the attention of everyone in the room. He pauses just inside the doorway, takin' in the scene with a look of disbelief. His gaze sweeps over the banner, the balloons, and the decorations that scream “farewell.”

“What the fuck?” he mutters under his breath, his eyes narrowin' as he read the banner hangin' above the dance floor. “Who the 'ell had the dumb idea of throwin' a going-away party?”

His voice is gruff, tinged with irritation, and as he looks around, we all shrug in unison. To be fair, none of us really know who had come up with the idea. One moment we were discussin' it, and the next, the party was happenin'.

Big King’s frustration only grew as he continued to survey the scene. “Ya do realise he’s not actually leavin', right? He’s back in a week to check in with his parole officer!” His tone is incredulous, like we are all out of our minds.

Laughter erupts around the table, mine included. Big King clearly had no idea what was goin' on. He’d been out all day, probably busy with baby shoppin' or some other mundane chore.

King leaned back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. “He doesn’t need to check in anymore,” he calls out, his voice loud enough to carry over the music.

Big King’s brows furrowed in confusion. “The fuck? Yes, he does. He’s got to check in for a year—it’s only been two months.” He sat down heavily, his eyes narrowin' as he looked at me. “What the fuck did you do?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the question, the absurdity of the situation hittin' me all at once.

“He may have scared the pretty little parole officer,” Ink chimed in, a smirk tuggin' at the corners of his lips. “So now she says he just has to text once a week to confirm he’s alive, clean, and not dealin'.”

I winked, enjoyin' the way Big King’s expression darkened with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “She loves me,” I declared, unable to keep the laughter from bubblin' up again.

“Sounds more like she fuckin' hates ya,” Big King shot back, his gaze fixed on me. “What the hell did ya do?”

I leaned back in my chair, the smirk never leavin' my face. “She kept flirtin'. That’s my defense. Don’t fuckin' flirt with me if ya can’t handle the consequences.”

“Joker!” Big King barked my name, but I could see the amusement lurkin' behind his eyes. He wasn’t really angry—just curious.

“I said, she flirted with me. Why am I gettin' told off? Surely she broke some sort of protocol, purposely leanin' over and makin' sure I could see her fuckin' nipple?”

Big King’s head fell back in exasperation, but I could tell he was tryin' to suppress a laugh. “Joker, what did ya do?”

“I didn’t touch 'er,” I replied with a smirk, knowin' that my words would only fuel the fire. “Fine, I may have been a little explicit in sayin' what I’d like to do to 'er. She slapped me hard, called me a dirty old man, and told me to just text from now on.” I shrugged, as if the whole thin' was no big deal. And to me, it wasn’t. I mean, I got my freedom, didn’t I?

Big King glared at me, but there was a hint of a smile playin' on his lips. “Ya lucky she didn’t report ya ass for it.”

I waved off his concern with a laugh. “Nah, she loves me. She wouldn’t report me.”

Big King shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in his eyes. “Whatever. Are ya callin' in to see Ebony?”

I nodded, my mind shifting to the task ahead. “Yeah, I have the address where she’s stayin', and I know the university she’s goin' to. I’ll be there tomorrow evenin', after I set off in the mornin'.”

The plan was set. I had intended to leave tonight, but the copious amounts of alcohol I have consumed have altered my schedule slightly. I need to sleep off some of the booze before hittin' the road.

“Well, since ya all having a party, I may as well join in,” Big King said, pourin' himself a drink. But then he paused, his hand hoverin' over the glass.

“No, ya won’t,” I teased, laughin' as he groaned in frustration. “Ya forgot already?” I sat back, enjoyin' the moment. Big King had promised Robyn he’d cut back on his drinkin', and he wasn’t doin' so well with that promise.

“Ya can have one or two,” King pushed the glass toward him, and I couldn’t help but laugh as Big King took a drink.

“Ya really failin' at this, you realise that, right? Ya still haven’t gone a day without a drink,” I taunted, knowin' it would get under his skin.

His eyes rolled, and he shot me a look. “Like you could.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I went over fifteen years without any alcohol, thank you very much,” I retorted, winkin' at him. The room erupted in laughter.

“Legally allowed, sure. But illegally smuggled in? No way. Ya haven’t gone fifteen years,” Big King chuckled, and he wasn’t wrong. He had made sure the guards brought me all sorts of contraband while I was inside.

The fuckers wouldn’t bring me real food, though. Alcohol, fine. Crisps and chocolate, sure. But steak, burgers, and the good stuff? No. Apparently, that was too hard to get in. But people? People were easy.

As the night wore on, Robyn joined us, slidin' in beside Big King and cuddlin' into him. 'er eyes flicked to the glass in his hand, and I laughed again. “He can’t do it, Princess. Don’t shout.”

Everyone laughed, and Robyn rolled 'er eyes. “I told him he didn’t need to,” she said, turnin' to face Big King. “I think this is proof you can’t, and you shouldn’t have to anyway.” She leaned in and kissed him, and I immediately turned away.

“No, let me out. Move,” I grumbled, pushin' King off his chair and steppin' over him. I wasn’t about to watch them stick their tongues in each other’s mouths. It was messed up. Everyone laughed at my reaction, but I was sure they’d understand if it was their daughter.

The night slipped away in a blur of laughter, drinks, and good company. At some point, I managed to crawl into my bed and pass out, the events of the night fadin' into the background as sleep took over.

The next mornin', I woke up early—earlier than I had planned. My head pounded, and I hadn’t slept as much as I’d hoped, but there was no point in tryin' to go back to sleep. If I set off now, I could check in on Ebony by lunchtime, then still have time to get to my next location.

I packed a small bag, grabbin' the essentials before headin' out. The club was empty, a mess from the night before, but empty. I walked to my bike, loaded up my gear, and set off.

Ten minutes into the journey, my stomach growled, remindin' me that I hadn’t eaten anythin' yet. I spotted a small café on the side of the road and decided to stop for breakfast before continuin' on my way.

The café was quaint, with a few locals scattered around, enjoyin' their morning coffee. I ordered a simple breakfast and sat down, the weight of the journey ahead pressin' down on me. After finishin', I got back on the road. Hours passed as I rode, the landscape changin' around me as I neared the town where Ebony was supposed to be.

I pulled up outside a small restaurant around lunchtime, my stomach rumblin' again. I debated whether to go in and eat or to find Ebony first. If I found 'er, maybe we could grab a bite to eat together. It might help get 'er talkin'.

With a sigh, I decided to head to the address where she was supposed to be stayin'. I parked the bike, walked up to the door, and knocked. The seconds ticked by, and when no one answered, I knocked again.

“Coming!” A voice called from inside, followed by the sound of footsteps. The door swun' open to reveal a girl standin' there, lookin' at me with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

“What?” she asked, her tone curt.

“Ebony, is she in?” I asked, tryin' to keep my patience.

“Ebony?” Her brow furrowed, and she looked at me like I’d just spoken in a foreign language.

“Look, little girl, I don’t have time for games. Ebony, please. I’m family and need to speak with 'er,” I said, tryin' to keep the irritation out of my voice.

She shook her head. “No Ebony lives here. Give me a minute,” she said, slammin' the door in my face before I could respond. I heard muffled shoutin' and more footsteps, and a moment later, the door opened again, this time revealin' another girl.

“Ebony doesn’t live here anymore,” she said flatly, movin' to close the door again.

I stopped 'er, my hand on the door. “Then where does she live?” This whole situation was startin' to piss me off.

“I don’t know, dude! Call and ask her,” she snapped, tryin' to shove the door closed again.

I held it open, frustration boilin' over. “Oh my God! Check out Luxe Nights; she works there,” she spat out before finally managin' to slam the door in my face.

Luxe Nights? What the hell is that? I climbed back on my bike, my mind racin'. I needed to get to the bottom of this, but first, I needed to figure out what the hell Luxe Nights was.

I rode back to the restaurant, parkin' outside before I walked in to order some food. Sittin' down, I pulled out my phone and started searchin' for Luxe Nights. Nothin'. No hits, no clues, just a big fat nothin'. I tried every variation I could think of—Lux Nights, Luxe Nights, Lux Nites, Luxe Nites—but still, nothin'.

By the time the waiter brought me my check, I was out of ideas. Frustration gnawed at me, but I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. The waiter placed the receipt in front of me and asked, “Anything else, sir?”

“Do you have any idea how I might find a place called Luxe Nights?” I asked, my voice edged with desperation.

She looked at me with a mix of disgust and disdain. “Five minutes drive that way, turn left outside the Old Tavern pub, and it’s on that street,” she said, turnin' on her heel and walkin' off before I could thank 'er.

I wasn’t sure what I had done to deserve that look, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I walked out, climbed back on my bike, and headed in the direction she had pointed me. I stopped outside a nondescript building, glancing around. It was closed.

Now what? I couldn’t call Big King without something solid to report, and tellin' him that Ebony didn’t live where she said she did wasn’t exactly the update I wanted to give. I needed more information, something concrete.

I sat on my bike, considerin' my options. If she didn’t live at the address I had, then she had to be livin' somewhere nearby. But finding her wasn’t goin' to be easy if she wasn’t answerin' her phone.

Unless… maybe she was at the university? I could ride over there, see if I could find her even if she was in class. Why the hell hadn’t I thought of that first? I revved the engine, a plan formin' in my mind. If I found 'er at the university, at least I could give Big King a real update, somethin' that might stop him from worryin' so much.

As I rode towards the university, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of determination. I had a job to do, and I wasn’t goin' to let anyone or anythin' stand in my way. Ebony might be playing hide and seek, but I wasn’t about to back down. I had come for Big king, he's gone through too much, for me to let this slip through my fingers.