Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ELENA
The idea of marrying Ryder should terrify me.
Instead, it settles somewhere deep inside me with dangerous warmth.
Not because I’m na?ve enough to think this is some fairytale.
But because if I had to stand beside anyone in the world right now…
I want it to be him. That realization follows me all night.
Through dinner, the low murmur of the clubhouse, the way Ryder avoids looking directly at me after Knuckles mentioned marriage.
He’s distant. Not cold. Careful. Like he’s afraid to get too close.
I find him eventually out back near the bikes. Moonlight glints off chrome and leather while Ryder crouches beside his Harley adjusting something near the engine. He senses me before I speak.
“You shouldn’t be outside alone.”
I lean against the fence. “You say that every time I leave a room.”
“Because every time you leave a room, someone might try something stupid.”
My chest tightens. “You really think he’ll keep escalating?”
Ryder stands slowly, wiping grease from his hands.
“He’s losing control. Men like Grant don’t handle that well.”
I nod quietly “Do you think the marriage idea would work?”
His expression shutters instantly. “Elena?—”
“It’s just a question.”
“No, sweetheart. It’s not.” His jaw flexes. “Marriage isn’t paperwork to me.”
The words hit harder than expected. “You think I’d treat it like paperwork?”
“No.” His voice lowers roughly. “That’s the problem.”
Silence stretches between us. Wind stirs my hair. Motorcycles tick quietly as engines cool. Ryder looks at me like he’s fighting something ugly inside himself. Finally, he drags a hand down his beard.
“If I married you…” He exhales sharply. “I’d mean it.”
My pulse stumbles. The honesty in his voice is almost frightening.
“I know.” His eyes lock onto mine.
“No, Elena. I don’t think you do.”
He steps closer slowly. Not crowding. Giving me time to move away if I want. I don’t.
“When I claim something,” he says quietly, “I protect it.”
The possessiveness in the words should scare me. But Grant used possession to cage me. Ryder talks about protection like worship. Different. Completely different.
“I wouldn’t trap you,” he continues. “Wouldn’t control you. But I’d still…” He shakes his head once. “You deserve someone steadier than me.”
My throat tightens. “Who says I want steady?”
That surprises him. Good. I step closer too.
“You know what I had before?” I whisper. “Predictable. Polished. Perfect for cameras.” My eyes burn. “I’d rather have honest.”
Something dangerous flashes across Ryder’s face. Then his hand lifts slowly toward me. Stops inches away. Choice. Always choice. I close the distance myself. His fingers slide gently against my cheek. Heat floods through me instantly.
“I shouldn’t want this,” he mutters.
“Why?”
“Because I leave.”
The words hurt more than they should. I try not to show it. Ryder notices anyway. Of course he does.
“Elena…”
“Do nomads ever stop?”
His gaze searches mine. “Usually something has to matter enough.”
The air changes completely. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he hears it. Before either of us can say something dangerous, the clubhouse door slams open.
“Church!” Beast shouts. “Now.”
Ryder drops his hand immediately. The loss of warmth is instant. Painfully instant. Inside, the mood is tense. Bishop stands at the head of the table while Knuckles pulls up legal documents again.
“The emergency filing’s moving faster than expected,” Knuckles says. “Grant’s pushing hard.”
Bishop looks toward me. “Lawyer says we’re running out of time.”
The room goes quiet. Everyone knows what that means. Marriage. Ryder’s entire body goes rigid beside me. I should let him refuse. I should. Instead, I hear myself speak before fear can stop me.
“I want to do it.”
Every eye turns toward me. Ryder swears softly under his breath.
“Elena.”
I face him fully. “I’m serious.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“I know that.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
His eyes darken. Dangerous. Emotional. Terrified in a way I don’t think he’s used to feeling.
“Sweetheart…”
“I trust you.”
That wrecks him. I see it happen. The words hit him like a physical blow. Ryder looks away sharply, jaw tight. Bishop quietly dismisses everyone else. Soon the room empties until it’s just us. Me and Ryder. Silence stretches. Then finally, he looks back at me.
“If we do this…” His voice is rougher than usual. “You don’t get halfway loyalty from me.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “Okay.”
“You’d be my wife.” The way he says it sends heat through my entire body.
“Okay.”
His eyes close briefly. Like he’s already losing this fight. When he opens them again, something’s changed. Decision. “Then we do it properly.” And somehow those words feel more intimate than a proposal ever could.