Chapter Two
Venom
The scent slammed into me like a runaway train, a heady mix of lavender and leather. The combination was unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting, making my nostrils flare involuntarily. I paused, one hand still gripping the doorknob, as my eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness within.
Shadows danced across the walls, twisting the familiar into something alien. For a fleeting moment, I felt like an intruder in my own home.
With measured steps, I moved forward, the floorboards creaking softly beneath my heavy boots. Family photos adorned the walls, their smiling faces staring back at me with an accusing intimacy. Ridley was in most of them. Children with my eyes. My throat tightened, a lump forming that I swallowed with difficulty.
“Who are you people?” I murmured, reaching out to touch a gilt frame. My calloused fingertips left smudges on the glass, marring the smiles.
In some photos, I recognized myself -- younger, less gray in the beard, but undeniably me. My arm around Ridley’s waist, a little girl perched precariously on my shoulders. But try as I might, I couldn’t summon a single memory to match the images. The past remained stubbornly locked away, a treasure chest buried beneath layers of amnesia.
My fists clenched at my sides, a surge of frustration bubbling up inside me. I was a man who thrived on control, who always knew where he stood. This helplessness was maddening, a betrayal of my very identity.
My gaze landed on a photo of myself, my cut emblazoned with patches, arms crossed over my chest, radiating the kind of “don’t-fuck-with-me” energy that had served me well as VP. At least that felt familiar, a tangible reminder of who I used to be.
But as I stared at my younger self, a different kind of ache bloomed in my chest. Who was I now, stripped of those memories? Without the stories behind each smile, each embrace frozen in time?
The lavender scent intensified as I moved deeper into the house, clinging to the air like a cloying perfume. It should have been soothing, but instead it only heightened my disorientation. This place that should have felt like a sanctuary was as foreign as a distant land, the echoes of my past haunting me like ghosts.
And yet… and yet there was something. A flicker of recognition, a whisper in the dusty corners of my mind. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. I couldn’t be sure.
I paused before the large family portrait, the colors faded and the edges softened by time. I studied the faces of the children, my children, trying to etch them into my memory. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat like unwanted guests. “I’m trying. I swear I’m trying to remember.”
But the smiling faces were a cruel reminder of a life I couldn’t recall. Just glimpses, tantalizing fragments that slipped through my fingers like smoke. The frustration was a physical ache, a knot in my stomach that wouldn’t loosen.
The sudden creak of floorboards ripped through the silence, making me jump. I whirled around, my body instinctively tensing, and found myself face-to-face with a whirlwind of blonde hair and boundless energy.
Ridley.
She strode toward me with a confidence that seemed to light up the room, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and fierce determination. The contrast between her vivacity and my somber mood was stark, yet somehow comforting.
“There you are, handsome,” she said, her voice rich and warm. “Thought I might find you brooding in here.”
My breath caught in my throat. This woman -- my wife -- exuded a strength that both intrigued and intimidated me. “I wasn’t brooding,” I muttered, though the lie felt weak even to my own ears.
Ridley’s laugh was like summer thunder, bold and unapologetic. “Sure you weren’t, tough guy. But let me tell you a story that might put a smile on that ruggedly handsome face of yours.”
She perched on the arm of a nearby chair, her petite frame somehow commanding the entire room. “Like I told you before, I’m the one who claimed you.”
“Tell me more about it. I need the details. Maybe then…”
She started in on the story, and painted such a vivid picture, I could see the scene in my mind. Almost like a movie was playing.
“Ridley, do you remember me?” Torch asked.
She hesitantly nodded. “You’re the president of the Dixie Reapers.”
“That’s right. And the man beside me is my VP.”
Her glaze clashed with mine.
“I understand that Bull sent you home with Venom when you arrived. Did you go with him willingly?” Torch asked.
“Yes,” Ridley said.
“And anything that happened while you were there was consensual? He didn’t force himself on you in any way?”
“Venom would never hurt me,” she said.
“If you had your choice, would you want to remain with Venom? Or would you prefer to move to another house? I could even arrange for your dad to stay with you,” Torch said.
Her gaze met mine again and held. It was like she was looking to me for answers, but I couldn’t say anything.
“Ridley, I’m asking you, not Venom,” Torch said.
“I want to stay with Venom,” she said softly. “If that’s okay with him.”
“Ridley, I know you came to us because your father is here,” Torch said. “But I need to know if you plan to stay even after the danger has passed. There’s not a lot of room in our club for women. You’re either a club slut or an old lady, and right now, you aren’t either.”
“If staying is an option, I think I’d like to,” she said. “But I could never be a club slut.”
“You don’t have a problem wearing someone’s brand?” Flicker asked.
“What’s a brand? Like you literally burn a brand into my skin?” she asked, her face paling.
“This is ridiculous,” Bull said. “My daughter isn’t going to be a slut or an old lady. There’s a reason I didn’t fight for sole custody. I didn’t want her around all this shit.”
“Not your decision,” Torch said.
“A brand means you’re tattooed,” I said.
“Tattooed with what?” she asked.
“You’re marked as property,” Flicker said. “You can wear it on your arm or on your back. You’ll also be given a cut that says you’re property of the biker who claims you.”
Ridley’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember my mom having that.”
Bull snorted. “Because I would have never made your mom my old lady. We were only together for a few days, then she came and found me when she discovered she was pregnant with you. But no matter what I think of your mother, I have always loved you. You’re my sweet girl, and I hate to think of you living this life.”
Ridley focused on him. “You taught me about bikes and introduced me to different MCs whenever you would visit. You never kept this way of life a secret from me, even if I don’t know all the details. I don’t need to know them. You’re a good man, Daddy, and I’m sure you’re not the only one in this room.” Her gaze met mine. “I know you aren’t. I’ve known Venom all my life, even if I wasn’t around the last fourteen years. He would never hurt me.”
Torch chuckled. “Are you laying claim to my VP?”
Her chin jutted up. “Maybe I am. Does that mean he has to get tattooed with Property of Ridley?”
As quickly as the memory hit me, it slipped away again. But it had come to me, and that was enough for now. I hadn’t just seen it through her story. I’d been there. For a brief moment, I’d recalled that day.
Despite myself, I felt a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. This woman was utterly fearless, a force of nature. And she was mine.
“I can picture it,” I said, my voice gruff. “You, all fire and sass, claiming me like a prize.”
Ridley’s eyes lit up, a connection sparking between us that transcended my fractured memories. I didn’t want to tell her I’d remembered for a moment. It might give her hope when there shouldn’t be any. There was no way of knowing when or even if my memories would return.
“Oh, you were the best prize, darlin’. Still are.”
She reached for my hand, her touch both familiar and electrifying. “Come on, let me show you the rest of our kingdom.”
Ridley led me through the house, and I drank in every detail. The kitchen wrapped around us, the lingering scent of cinnamon and coffee tickling my senses. My fingers trailed over a dent in the countertop.
“Your attempt at homemade bread,” she teased, a playful lilt in her voice. “Let’s just say your talents lay elsewhere.”
I couldn’t picture myself trying to make fucking bread. I had a feeling there was a story behind it. One I didn’t recall.
In the living room, I spotted a weathered leather jacket hanging on a hook. My fingers had itched to touch it. The worn material whispered of countless rides and shared adventures.
“Your favorite,” Ridley murmured. “You always said it was lucky.”
The bedroom unfolded like a sanctuary, soft light filtering through gauzy curtains. A quilt draped across the bed, its patchwork telling stories I couldn’t quite grasp.
“A Christmas gift from our daughter, Mariah, about five years ago,” she explained. “Some of the patches are from clothes we’ve worn over the years, all of us, and a few are from the kids’ favorite blankets when they were little.”
My throat tightened as I turned to Ridley, overwhelmed by the evidence of a life so rich and full of love. “I wish I could remember.”
Her hand found my cheek, her touch infinitely tender. “We’ll make new memories, tough guy. And who knows? Maybe the old ones will find their way back home, just like you did.”
My chest tightened as I stood in the hallway, surrounded by the remnants of a life I couldn’t recall. Each photograph, each trinket on the shelves whispered of shared moments, laughter and tears that slipped through my fingers like sand. The weight of it all pressed down on me, a bittersweet ache that left me breathless.
“It’s all here,” I murmured, more to myself than to Ridley. “A whole life, right in front of me, and I can’t…” My voice trailed off, frustration coloring my words.
Ridley stood beside me, her presence a steady anchor. Her vibrant energy cut through the turmoil swirling in my mind. “What did you feel when you looked at these things, Venom?” she asked, her voice gentle yet probing.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the emotions swirling within me. “Like I’m on the edge of something important,” I admitted. “Like I should know more, feel more. It’s… maddening.”
As we moved farther down the hall, a large portrait caught my eye. I stopped, transfixed by the image of myself surrounded by three young faces -- two girls and a boy. My children. My family.
Without thinking, I reached out, tracing the outline of each face with my calloused fingers. The eldest girl’s mischievous grin mirrored Ridley’s. And the boy’s serious expression reflected my own, his wide eyes full of wonder.
“Farrah, Dawson, and Mariah,” Ridley named each child again.
My voice thickened with emotion when I finally spoke. “They’re beautiful. Our kids…” The words felt foreign on my tongue yet undeniably right. “Tell me about them.”
Ridley’s eyes were full of pride and love as she responded. “Farrah’s our firecracker. Takes after me, I’m afraid -- she was always up to something. Still is, but now she gives Demon a headache and not us. Dawson’s the thinker, quiet but sharp as a tack. He’s always been a little different from the other kids around here. And Mariah? Well, she’s got you wrapped around her little finger. The day you sent her off was the hardest on you. I could tell it gutted you, but we both knew it was for the best.”
A lump formed in my throat. “I can’t remember them,” I whispered, the admission tearing at my heart. “But I feel… God, Ridley, I feel so much. Do they know? I mean, that I can’t remember them?”
Ridley’s warm hand slipped into mine, her fingers intertwining with my own. The simple touch sent a jolt through me, grounding me in the moment. I turned to face her, struck by the depth of emotion in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. “And yes, they’re aware. Which is why Dawson won’t be bringing our granddaughter around for a bit. He thought it might be confusing for her.”
The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, a familiar yet foreign electricity. I was drawn to her, noticing the faint scent of lavender that clung to her skin. Now I knew where the smell in the house had come from.
“Come on,” Ridley said, gently tugging my hand. “I want to show you something.”
She led me through the house, past the kitchen where the aroma of fresh coffee still lingered, and out into the backyard. My breath caught as I stepped onto the patio, taking in the sight before me.
A riot of color greeted my eyes -- vibrant purple irises swayed alongside delicate pink roses and fiery orange marigolds. The garden sprawled across the yard, a patchwork of life and beauty. In the center stood a massive oak tree, its branches spreading wide to provide dappled shade.
“You did all this?” I asked, awe tinging my voice.
Ridley nodded, a proud smile lighting up her face. “It’s been a labor of love. Started small, just a few flowers here and there. But it grew, just like our family. And it wasn’t easy. I had a lot of help.”
I walked along the winding stone path, drinking in every detail. A small vegetable patch nestled in one corner; tomatoes ripened on the vine. Near the fence, sunflowers stretched toward the sky, their golden faces following the sun’s path.
“It’s incredible,” I said, turning back to Ridley. The late afternoon light caught her hair, setting it ablaze with golden highlights. “You’re incredible.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks, and I felt a surge of affection for this vibrant woman who had built a life with me -- a life I was determined to rediscover.
“Tell me about that,” I said, gesturing to a weathered wooden bench beneath the oak tree.
Ridley’s eyes lit up with memory. “That’s where we’d sit in the evenings, watching the kids play. Where you taught Dawson to whittle and where I read bedtime stories to the girls on warm summer nights.”
I closed my eyes, trying to picture it all. Though specific memories eluded me, I could feel echoes of contentment and belonging wash over me. When I opened my eyes again, Ridley watched me intently.
“What is it?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious under her gaze.
She shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Just… seeing you here, in our space. It feels right, doesn’t it?”
I nodded, surprised that it did. Despite gaps in my memory and lingering uncertainty, this felt like home.
I could see the mischief in her eyes as she led me to the bench, her fingers intertwined with mine. The wood creaked softly beneath us as we sat, a familiar sound that stirred something deep within me.
“You want to hear about the time you nearly set the clubhouse on fire?” Ridley asked, her voice laced with humor.
I raised an eyebrow. “I did what now?”
She laughed, the sound rich and inviting. “Oh yeah, it was during a Christmas party. You were trying to impress me by making flaming shots.”
The way her eyes sparkled as she spoke, the way the sun gilded her hair, I couldn’t help but lean in, entranced by her every word.
“And there you were” -- Ridley chuckled, gesturing wildly -- “surrounded by your brothers, playing bartender.” A sly grin spread across her face. “Had a bit too much liquid courage yourself.”
My stomach lurched. I already knew where this story was heading. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. “So I spilled the damn alcohol.”
She nodded, barely containing her laughter. “All over the bar. And then, in your infinite wisdom, you decided to light a match.”
“Jesus,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “How bad was it?”
“Let’s just say the Christmas tree went up faster than a rocket.” She snickered. “Torch nearly choked you, but the look on your face…” A wave of uncontrollable laughter erupted from her, the sound infectious. “The entire bar caught on fire. Had to be replaced shortly after.”
Against my better judgment, I found myself joining in. The mental image was so vivid, I could practically smell the singed wood and hear the shouts of alarm. It all felt so real, so tangible, yet the actual memory remained elusive.
“Then what?” I urged, wanting to hear more about this absurd incident from my past.
Her eyes softened, a gentle smile gracing her lips. “Right in the middle of all that chaos, you looked at me and said, ‘Darlin’, I’d burn down the entire world just to see you smile like that.’”
Those words, hanging heavy in the air, sent a tremor through me. My breath hitched as I looked at Ridley, really looked at her. The fading sun caught the golden flecks in her eyes, their depths pulling me in like a whirlpool.
Without even thinking, I reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. My touch sent a shiver through her, her eyes flickering with a mix of hope and something more.
“I might not remember saying that,” I admitted, my voice low and husky, “but I can see why I would have.”
The space between us was filled with unspoken desire and feelings coming to the surface. Ridley leaned in, her lips just a whisper away from mine.
“Venom,” she breathed, her voice barely a murmur against the frantic beat of my heart. “I’ve missed you so much.”
I closed the gap, claiming her lips in a kiss that was both familiar and thrilling. Her body melted against mine, arms snaking around my neck as I pulled her closer. My hands found her waist, marveling at how perfectly she fit against me.
The years seemed to melt away as we kissed, leaving nothing but the raw emotions simmering between us. It felt like coming home after a long, arduous journey, finding solace and belonging in this one perfect moment.
As I pulled away, her eyes, filled with laughter and something more profound, locked with mine.
With a soft smile, she rested her forehead against mine. “Let’s not waste even a second.”
In her eyes, in the soft curve of her lips, I saw a future brimming with possibilities, a second chance. And as I held her close, the past fading into a hazy dream, I knew I wouldn’t let it slip away.
“I think I should stay in the guest room,” I said. “There’s definitely something between us, even if I can’t remember it. But…”
“You still feel like we’re strangers,” she said softly.
“Something like that. I just need a night or so. Get my bearings a bit more,” I said. I could see the hurt in her eyes and it gutted me. It was clear we’d had a good life together, and that we’d loved each other. But right now, I wasn’t her Venom. I knew there was a chance I may never be that man again. It felt like she was latching on, needing the husband she remembered. I worried if we took things too fast, she’d end up getting hurt.
She nodded. “All right. Whatever you think is best.”
I kissed her cheek, wishing I could take all her pain away. If only I knew how…