Chapter 29 #3
Her eyes find mine, wide, trusting, so goddamn certain I’m going to be the good guy in this story. She has no idea how thin that line is.
“What about torture?” I ask.
She grimaces. Then her lips curve. “Maybe.”
Fuck, I love her.
A flicker of movement cuts through my haze. Van is getting up, still bent over like a wounded animal but moving. And then, of course, some asshole in the crowd lifts their phone, camera aimed squarely at me.
“Kill me and everyone will see it,” Van wheezes, stumbling forward, one hand clutching his groin, the other pointing like I’m on trial.
“You’ll rot in prison, you piece of biker trash!
Cindy is mine. She’s always been mine. Our families had an agreement.
She’s promised to me! You’re just embarrassing yourself, taking what doesn’t belong to you! ”
He’s still shouting when he reaches me.
I holster the gun. Don’t need it for this.
The second he opens his mouth again, I swing.
My fist slams into his face with a crack that echoes off the house. Bone shatters. Van drops like a puppet with its strings cut, clutching his face and howling, blood pouring through his fingers, dripping down his tailored suit.
“You broke it!” he shrieks, his voice climbing into a pathetic whine. “You fucking broke my nose!”
I crouch beside him. My hand closes around his throat, not hard enough to crush, just enough to remind him how close he is to losing everything.
“You were saying something about my Omega ?” My voice is a low rumble, calm and cold.
Van gurgles, eyes watering, face turning red as my fingers tighten a fraction more. He tries to shake his head, to talk, though nothing comes out but a wheeze.
“That’s what I thought.” I shove him back into the dirt, let him suck in a ragged breath that sounds like it hurts. Then I’m on my feet and stride over to Cindy, dragging her into my arms.
Gravel crunches behind me. Heavy boots.
I glance back, still keeping one arm around Cindy, and the sight that greets me nearly leaves me smiling.
Arrow, Luke, and Mack are storming across the lawn. Behind them, broad shoulders, black leather, grim faces, come some of the Savage Sons. The new cut of the old club. The ones who rose from the ashes after we burned it down.
And at the front of the pack is Jon.
He hasn’t changed much, just hardened around the edges. Long, dark hair pulled back, beard thick and streaked with gray, eyes like sharpened glass. The kind of man who doesn’t need to shout to make people listen. His presence rolls across the yard like thunder, steady, heavy, impossible to ignore.
He stops a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, the Sons fanning out behind him in a half circle.
“Holt.” His voice is gravelly, deep, calm, the kind that carries authority without effort. “Heard you had some trouble.”
I can’t help the grin that cracks my face. “You could say that.”
Jon glances at Van, still bleeding and whimpering in the grass, then at Victoria, frozen near the group, not kneeling. His jaw flexes once.
“Some of my boys went rogue,” he admits. There’s steel under the calm, a weight that makes the words feel final. “Helped this asshole set you up. That’s on me.” He steps closer. “I’m here to make it right. Whatever you need.”
Cindy slips out from under my arm before I can stop her, bolting straight toward Arrow and Luke. They catch her together, Luke’s arms first, Arrow’s next, pulling her in tight. Relief breaks across their faces like dawn after a storm.
I nod once at Jon, every muscle in me finally starting to unclench. “Appreciate that.”
He nods back, slow. “Wouldn’t expect less from one of mine.” His gaze sweeps the scene, the broken groom, the cowering guests, the kneeling chaos. “You handled this clean, considering.”
I glance down at Van. Blood everywhere. My knuckles split. Cindy safe.
“Clean enough,” I mutter.
Jon’s mouth twitches into something that might be a smile, or maybe it’s just approval. Hard to tell with him.
Either way, the storm has passed. But if any of these bastards move again, I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake they ever make.
“You cannot keep us prisoner,” Victoria’s voice cuts through. “We’ve done nothing wrong, and you’re going to be very sorry when?—”
“When what?” I turn to face her slowly. “When your lawyers show up? That shit doesn’t work on me, Victoria. Not anymore.”
Cindy’s father gets to his feet. Tall. Barrel shaped. The kind of man who’s built a life on making people flinch when he enters a room.
“How much can we pay you for her?” he says, like we’re negotiating over a damn car. “Name your price.”
Silence crashes over the crowd like a bomb.
I blink at him. “Are you fucking shitting me?”
“Everything has a price,” he replies, calm as anything. Like he didn’t just try to buy back the daughter he threw away.
My jaw clenches. “Get back to your knees.”
He hesitates, only for a second, but then kneels.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I say, voice razor-sharp. “You’re all leaving town. Right now. Not stopping to get your stuff, not making calls, nothing. You get in your cars and you go. You come back, and between me and Jon’s team, you’ll never leave this town. You understand?”
I glance at Cindy, wrapped in Arrow’s and Luke’s arms, protected between them like the damn treasure she is.
“Cindy is no longer part of your family,” I say, loud enough for every single one of them to hear. “She’s mine. She’s Arrow’s. She’s Luke’s. Our mate. And if you dare to so much as speak with her again, if you threaten her, if you even think about coming back, you’ll have me on your doorstep.”
I turn to Jon. “Can your boys escort some of these people personally? Make sure they actually leave?”
“Absolutely.” Jon is already scanning the crowd. “Which ones?”
I lift a hand and point. “Victoria. Her husband. And Van.”
“On it.” Jon gestures to his men. “And if they give us any trouble?”
“Do your thing,” I say.
Three bikers move forward. Big men, covered in ink and muscle, with the kind of cold, dead eyes that make smart people nervous.
Victoria starts protesting the second one of them grabs her arm, not gently. “How dare you handle me like that! Do you know who I am?”
The biker doesn’t even blink. He just drags her toward the driveway.
She throws one last look over her shoulder at Cindy. “Is this how you enjoy seeing your mother treated?”
Cindy doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t cry. Doesn’t beg.
“After how you treated me, you’re lucky this is all you get.”
Victoria’s face drains of color.
Another biker has Van by the hair, dragging him to his feet. He’s a bloody mess, whining about his nose, nothing left of the arrogant Alpha who strutted closer earlier. His suit is torn, mouth slack with pain. He looks pathetic. And it’s exactly what he deserves.
Cindy’s father stumbles beside them, red-faced and humiliated, head ducked as a third biker marches him toward the driveaway. The man won’t even look at his daughter. Good. He shouldn’t.
Guests scatter in every direction. Running for their cars, dresses tangled, heels kicked off, fear stamped across their faces. They just witnessed something real, and they’re desperate to pretend it didn’t happen. Cowards.
Mack stands at the edge of the chaos, arms folded, chin raised as he watches them go. “I’ll make sure they all actually leave town,” he says. His eyes cut to us. “Make sure no one gets any ideas about coming back.”
“Thanks, brother,” Arrow says, voice low and grateful.
And then it’s quiet.
Just us.
Me. Arrow. Luke. Cindy. And the ghost of everything that just happened still clinging to the breeze.
She’s between us now, trembling. I wipe her tears with the rough pad of my thumbs, gentle as I can be. Her eyes are swollen, red. But her scent, God, her scent is love.
“No more crying,” I whisper. “You’re home now. You’re ours. And your family will never touch you again. We’ll make sure of that.”
She nods, swallowing thickly. “I still can’t believe what she planned…” Her voice trembles. “My own mother.” She shakes her head. “But having them gone is enough. I don’t want revenge. I just want… peace.”
I draw her against me, bury my face in her hair. Then I press a kiss to her forehead. Her nose. Her lips. I take my time. Because this is what matters.
Arrow steps in, fingers trailing down her spine. Luke brushes his knuckles over her cheek. We surround her again. We breathe her in. And for the first time all day, she lets out a real laugh. Broken, soft, but real.
“This day turned out so much worse than I imagined,” she says, giggling through the tears.
“But it ends better,” Arrow murmurs. “Because we’re still here. And we’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”
She looks between us. “I do.”
Luke glances at me and then at Arrow. “So… what now?”
We don’t speak.
We don’t have to.
My eyes meet Arrow’s first. Then Luke’s.
No words. Just a look. A silent command wrapped in something raw and certain.
It’s time.
They know it.
Arrow gives a faint, almost imperceptible nod. Luke exhales slowly, like he’s been holding it in since the moment everything went to hell.
I glance back at Cindy. Fuck, she’s everything, and then back at them. Just to make sure they feel it too.
They smile.
And then, in sync, all three of us drop to our knees in the grass in front of her.
She freezes. Eyes wide, lips parted, skin still blotchy from crying, but goddamn beautiful.
More than I deserve. More than any of us do.
But I’ll fight to keep her every damn day.
Cindy gasps, lips parting. “What… what are you doing?”
I reach for her hand. My heart is pounding, but my voice is steady.
“Cindy,” I say, rough and low. “Will you marry us? All three of us. I love you so damn much.”
Her eyes go glassy again, but this time, not with grief.
With joy.
Hope.
Love.
Arrow shifts forward on his knee, grinning like a damn idiot, eyes wet. “I love you, sunshine. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”
Luke brushes his thumb along the back of her other hand, his voice deep and steady. “I love you, Omega. You’re my heart.”
She lets out a shaky laugh that breaks into a sob, covering her mouth like she can’t believe any of this is real.
“Oh my God. I love you all so much.” Her lips tremble. “Are you… are you serious?”
I squeeze her hand, leaning in closer.
“As a fucking heart attack,” I respond.
“Dead serious,” Arrow says, taking her other hand.
Luke grins, wide. “We don’t have rings. Not yet. But we’re getting them. This? This is just the start.”
“You’re making us sweat here, baby, waiting for an answer,” I add, nudging her with a crooked smile.
She laughs through the tears. Nods her head. “Yes. Yes. Of course yes. A million times yes.”
And then she’s on us, arms flung around our necks, clinging like she’ll never let go, and we don’t plan to let her.
The Halloween decorations flutter in the wind behind her. And for the first time in my life, something clicks into place.
This is it.
She’s it.
And with her in our arms, nothing else matters.