Epilogue
CAMDEN
THREE YEARS LATER
The room is cloaked in darkness when I roll over, reaching for Saige’s pliant, warm body, only to find her side of the bed cold and empty.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach wakes me completely, the one telling me something isn’t right.
I know without needing to check the bathroom that she isn’t here.
Instead, I quickly dress, pulling on my jeans from yesterday, my boots, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and my cut, strapping my gun to its holster, and pulling my hair into a bun to get it out of my face.
I storm from my bedroom, each of my footfalls stomping hard against the wood floor. Music plays in a slow, steady hum through the room, the clubhouse simmering down from a late-night party. Cigarette and marijuana smoke fill the air, lingering with the scent of alcohol and sex.
“Where’s Saige?” I yell to the room. Wrath is the first one to notice me, his hands cupping the face of the petite woman with long, near-white hair currently rocking on his cock.
Her dress is splayed around them, concealing her from any onlookers.
With a quick kiss to her lips, Wrath lifts her gently, setting her next to him.
He stands, tucking himself back into his jeans before walking my way.
“She left, figured you knew.”
“And you didn’t think to maybe run it by me, just to make sure?”
“It’s Saige . . . I don’t want to cross her.”
“And you thought you’d cross me instead?
” I bark, knowing he doesn’t deserve my rage, especially not in front of everyone.
This damn woman has a mind of her own, and while I love that about her, her independence scares the living shit out of me.
We set rules in place that she would continue her vigilante justice, as long as one of us was with her, and we all knew her plan.
Some fucking rule that was, because she doesn’t ever goddamn follow it.
I swear to god, three years with this damn viper and I’ve already aged twenty.
“Hey, Prez! Your wife is at it again!” Malice yells jovially as he bounds into the room. “Oh! Looks like you already heard.”
“Yeah, Mal. I already heard. How long ago?”
“About an hour? I’ve got the tracker up already,” he replies, handing me his phone. The bright red dot pulses, showing me her location in real time. “Want us to get ready to go?”
“Nah. I’ll go fetch my queen on my own this time. Get the prospects to start cleanup. Close everything down. I’ll be back soon.”
The summer air is hot and sticky as I leave the air-conditioned clubhouse and step into the humid night. It’s the early hours of the morning, too early for the sun to start its ascent, and perfect for my violent little wife to continue her mission to rid the world of the evil pillaging it.
My bike roars to life under me, the loud rumble echoing into the night, the power of the engine vibrating below me.
Images of how I’m going to punish her flash behind my eyes, and I try to focus on that instead of my blind rage.
Her naked body flushed from pleasure, the rosy red patches that scatter across her skin when she’s aroused, her perky tits and the way they bounce when she rides my cock, her head thrown back in pure bliss.
I follow the GPS on my phone an hour north to a little town outside of Aspen Ridge.
She’s never gone this far before on her own, and fear starts to slither through my veins, taking hold of my thoughts and emotions.
I know Saige can handle herself, but losing her would kill me, and when she is reckless like this?
It only paves the way for my fear to grow; she’s making it a real and true possibility.
I pull my bike to a quick stop outside a run-down autobody shop on the outskirts of Briar Falls. By the looks of it, it’s been abandoned for some time. Saige’s bike isn’t in sight, but one of the flashing red dots on my phone tells me it’s here.
The air is thick, heavy with the scent of rust and old oil.
Flickering floodlights buzz like flies, casting a sorry excuse for light in front of the crumbling building.
Metal scraps, shards of broken glass, tires, and old oil drums litter the yard, remnants of old rusted tools, swallowed by dust and time, thrown haphazardly in places long forgotten.
Everything is covered in a thick layer of grime; it’s no place for my queen, but it is a place for the lowlife scum she tends to cleanse the earth of.
I step carefully through the clutter of shit, the sound of my boots scraping against the busted concrete floor as I enter the building.
Graffiti covers every inch of the walls, furniture gutted and destroyed.
Everywhere I look, there’s decay. Mold creeps up from the floor like vines snaking up the walls, with yellow stains from water damage.
My eyes dart through the dimly lit building, looking for any sign of my wife.
A breeze wafts in through the broken windows, carrying with it a hint of something organic, metallic, and iron. Blood.
Leaving the building the way I came, I walk around the side, finding her bike pushed into some brush, a second building in front of me.
My boots are heavy on the gravel, each step taking me closer and closer to the woman who keeps me in a constant state of paranoia, the woman who’s stolen my heart and likes to take off with it with no notice.
I push open a rotting wood barn door, Saige’s exquisite body on full display directly in front of me.
Her back is to me, and I take a moment to admire her long, lithe bare legs, the combat boots at her feet, her ass barely covered by cut-off denim shorts, and her leather jacket .
. . the property patch filling the back.
I thought it would be a hard sell, asking her to be my old lady, but after her walls came down and she accepted the way I live, the way the club lives, she understood the magnitude of what I was asking and how important it was to me.
She accepted, with terms of her own. We do this together.
Equals. As if I would have had it any other way.
The scene in front of me would make lesser men sick.
But this isn’t something I haven’t seen ten times over.
Two bodies lay gutted on the floor in pools of their own blood, their throats slit, wounds gaping open.
Another sits tied to a chair, his body slumped lifelessly, his innards spilling out of his abdominal cavity.
Out of character for her to torture, that’s more my alley. I must be rubbing off on her.
“Wife.”
“Husband,” she says, her voice seductively sweet as she turns to face me. Her long black hair sweeps off her shoulders with the movement, her bangs jostling and letting me have a glimpse of those pretty browns I love so much.
“What did I tell you about going and killing people by yourself?”
“What did I tell you about telling me what to do?”
“You’re never gonna learn, are you?”
“How’d you find me?”
“Woman, if you don’t think I have a tracker on every inch of you and your bike, you don’t know me at all.”
“Camden Young! I thought I removed all of them.”
I grab her roughly, my hands snaking around her waist and yanking her body flush with my own. I grip a handful of her hair, wrapping the length around my fist and gently tugging her head backward. “That’s husband to you.” Her lips turn up in a gorgeous smile, seductive, cunning, and fucking lethal.
“I’ll just keep replacing them, vixen. No one is taking off with the most important thing in my life without me being able to haul it back to where it belongs.”
“Smooth,” she purrs as she presses her pelvis against mine. I love when she gets like this, all the adrenaline inside her pulsing with nowhere to go. “Well, husband, you found me, now what are you going to do with me?”
“The only thing that makes sense. I need to redden that ass of yours and remind you that being reckless isn’t something I’m going to let slide.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Camden. But . . .” My fingers move to her chin, lifting her head to look up at me. My lips ghost over hers as I speak, ready to claim her mouth with my own, ready to taste her sweet flavor on my tongue.
“But what, vixen?”
“You need to catch me first.” Her knee moves quicker than I’m ready for it to, connecting with my junk just hard enough to get me to release the hold I have on her hair, my knees buckling and slamming my weight against the floor.
“Fuck, Saige!” I bellow as she runs out the door, her laugh dancing on the wind.
The rumble of her engine is next, and I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough that my mouth fills with iron.
Nausea rolls through me quickly as I get to my feet, racing after her.
The dust from her back tire sprays behind her like a thick fog as she races off. “Saige!” I yell.
I reach my bike as she disappears at the end of the road, the engine rumbling to life under me. I rev her hard, my back tire spinning out and squealing as I race after the demon spawn that’s inhabited my wife’s body.
Watching Saige ride her bike in front of me reminds me of the first moments we had together.
I had no idea she would be the woman I would spend the rest of my life with; hell, I didn’t even know she was a damn woman in those moments.
She bends effortlessly into each curve, taking them far faster than she should, but I know she’s got it.
Her bike is an extension of her, just like mine is for me.
We know just how far we can push it, just how much room we’ve got to get by.
It’s so sexy, and I’m so goddamn proud of her.