Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
RYDER
I’ve faced down armed traffickers with less fear than I feel walking into that backyard wedding setup.
The clubhouse transformed while I wasn’t paying attention.
String lights hang across the yard. Wildflowers sit in mason jars.
Someone dragged out tables and whiskey barrels.
Too soft, warm and fucking real. Knuckles whistles when he sees me.
“Well, look at that. Ryder cleaned up.”
“Shut up.”
Beast smirks into his beer. That’s terrifying enough on its own. I tug at the sleeves of my black Henley, feeling strangely off-balance. Leather cut over the top. Gun at my back. Same as always. Nothing’s the same. Bishop appears beside me.
“You look nervous.”
“I’ve been shot before. Felt calmer.”
That actually gets a laugh out of him. “You love her?”
I go still. The question should be easy to dodge.
Instead, Elena appears in the clubhouse doorway.
Everything else disappears. Fuck. She’s in a simple white dress.
Hair loose around her shoulders. Bruises faded but still there if you know where to look.
Beautiful. Not polished or perfect. Real.
Mine. The thought slams into me hard enough to nearly knock the breath from my lungs.
Bishop sees my face and mutters “Yeah. You’re fucked.”
Probably. Elena walks toward me slowly. Not trapped or forced, but choosing every step. That matters more than anyone here understands. When she reaches me, I hold out my hand. Her fingers slide into mine immediately. Trust. Christ. The club chaplain clears his throat.
“We doing this or what?”
Laughter ripples around us. I barely hear it. All I see is Elena. The ceremony starts. Short. Simple, with no bullshit. Exactly right. Then the chaplain asks me the question.
“Do you promise to protect and honour this woman?”
The answer comes instantly. “With my life.”
Elena’s breath catches. Mine too. The chaplain smiles toward her.
“And you?”
She looks directly at me when she answers. “Yes. Always.”
Something inside me gives way completely. No retreat after that. No distance. No pretending this is temporary. The chaplain grins.
“Then by powers nobody can legally verify, you’re husband and wife.”
Cheers erupt instantly. Whistles. Laughter. Someone yelling about whiskey. I don’t move. Not yet. Because Elena’s watching me carefully.
“You sure?” I ask quietly.
Emotion flashes across her face. Then she rises onto her toes and kisses me.
The entire world narrows to her mouth. Soft and warm.
I grip her waist instinctively, pulling her against my chest as the clubhouse loses its collective mind around us.
When we break apart, her cheeks are flushed. Eyes bright. Beautiful.
“My wife,” I say before I can stop myself.
Heat floods her face instantly. Dangerous fucking word.
The reception turns loud fast after that.
Music blaring from speakers, beer flowing and people dancing badly.
Elena laughs with Ivy while Beast grills food like he’s threatening the burgers personally.
And I watch her. Constantly. Like I can’t stop.
Knuckles eventually appears beside me holding two beers. “You’re staring again.”
“Yeah?”
“Like a psycho.”
I take the beer. “She’s happy.”
Knuckles glances toward Elena. “She looks safe.”
That hits harder. Because she does. For the first time since I found her on the roadside, Elena looks like she can breathe fully.
Then Grant ruins the moment. A black SUV slows outside the clubhouse gates.
Every biker in the yard notices instantly.
The music dies. Engines cut off. Elena’s laughter stops cold.
I’m moving before thought catches up. One second I’m beside the bar.
The next I’m directly in front of my wife. Mine.
Grant steps from the SUV slowly, eyes locked on Elena. Rage twists his face the second he spots the wedding band on her finger. Good. Let it burn him alive.
“You married him?” Grant spits.
Elena stiffens behind me. I feel it instantly. My hand slides back until it finds hers without looking. Steadying. Grant notices that too.
“You think this protects you?” he snarls.
Bishop steps onto the porch beside us.
“Actually,” he drawls, “legally? Yeah.”
Grant’s eyes cut toward me. Then toward Elena again.
“You’d really choose this?” he asks her. “A biker thug?”
Silence falls. Everyone waits. Elena squeezes my hand once. Then steps around me. Not hiding. Facing him.
“Yes,” she says quietly. “I would.”
Grant’s expression changes completely. The mask slips. Pure hatred underneath. And suddenly I know with absolute certainty, this man is going to try something desperate.