Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
ELENA
Waiting might be worse than fear. At least fear gives you something to fight.
Waiting just eats you alive slowly. The clubhouse feels too quiet without the brothers in it.
Even the walls seem tense. Ivy sits beside me at the long table in church pretending to scroll through her phone while I twist my wedding ring endlessly around my finger.
Every horrible possibility claws through my head.
What if Grant had more men? What if the warehouse was a trap?
What if….. The clubhouse doors burst open.
I’m on my feet instantly. Beast walks in first covered in dust and blood that thankfully doesn’t look like his.
Two prospects help another younger biker through the doorway.
Bruised and shaking but alive. Relief crashes through me so hard my knees nearly give out.
“Easy,” Ivy murmurs, catching my arm.
“Ryder?” I ask immediately.
Beast jerks his chin toward the door behind him. “He’s good.”
The breath leaves my lungs in a rush just as Ryder steps inside.
The second I see him, the rest of the room disappears.
His knuckles are split. Blood stains his shirt sleeve.
There’s a fresh cut near his eyebrow. But he’s standing.
Alive. Our eyes lock. Then I’m moving before I can think better of it.
I cross the room fast and throw my arms around him.
Ryder catches me instantly, one arm locking around my waist hard enough to lift me slightly off the floor. The room goes silent around us. I don’t care.
“You’re hurt,” I whisper.
“Not mine.”
That somehow makes it worse. I pull back enough to look at him properly.
“You scared me.” Something raw flashes across his face.
His forehead presses briefly against mine. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”
The honesty in the words shakes me. Because Ryder doesn’t scare easily. Bishop enters behind him a moment later, already talking business.
“Kid’s safe. Grant wasn’t there.”
Rage twists through me instantly. Coward.
“His men were,” Beast says darkly.
Judging by the dried blood on his boots, I don’t ask further questions. Knuckles appears carrying his laptop.
“Good news and bad news.”
“Hit me,” Bishop says.
“Good news, we got phones, records, and drives from the warehouse office.” He grins slightly. “Bad news? Grant’s even dirtier than we thought.”
He turns the screen toward us. Financial records fill the monitor.
Transfer records, forgery documents and evidence of bribery.
Then another file opens. Videos. My stomach drops instantly.
Grant kept recordings. Of arguments, his threats and me crying.
Humiliation burns through me like acid. Ryder notices my expression immediately and slams the laptop shut before anyone else can see more.
“Elena,” he says carefully.
“He filmed me.” The words barely come out.
Ryder’s entire body goes rigid. “Without me knowing,” I whisper. “Oh my God…”
Shame crashes over me violently. I pull away from him automatically. Ryder catches my wrist gently before I can retreat too far.
“Hey.” I can’t look at him.
“He made me look weak.”
“Elena.”
“I stayed. I let him do this to me.”
The room goes deathly quiet. Then Ryder steps directly in front of me. One hand cups my jaw carefully, forcing my gaze up.
“You listen to me real fucking carefully.” The roughness in his voice cuts through the spiral instantly.
“What he did to you is on him.” Tears burn behind my eyes.
“He manipulated you. Controlled you. Abused you.” His thumb brushes beneath my eye gently. “Surviving that isn’t weakness.”
Emotion clogs my throat completely. Ryder lowers his forehead against mine.
“And anybody in this room who thinks otherwise answers to me.”
The room stays silent. Not because they disagree. Because every single one of them already knows. I finally nod weakly. Ryder’s hand slides to the back of my neck.
“Good girl.” Heat flashes through me unexpectedly.
The endearment isn’t degrading from him. It’s praise. Comfort. Safety. Dangerous man. Knuckles clears his throat awkwardly.
“Uh… there’s more.”
Ryder slowly steps back but keeps one hand anchored against my lower back. Grounding me. Knuckles opens another folder.
“These are medical reports from Grant’s old assistant.”
A woman’s name fills the screen. Caroline Mercer.
“Hospital visits,” Knuckles continues. “Broken wrist. Concussion. Internal bruising.”
My blood runs cold. “He did this before.”
“Yeah,” Bishop says grimly. “And she disappeared after taking a settlement.”
Ryder’s jaw tightens. “We find her.”
Knuckles nods once. “Already working on it.”
I stare at the files silently. Grant hurt other women. Other people. And everyone around him let it happen because he wore expensive suits and smiled for cameras. No more. Something shifts inside me then. Not fear. Anger. Real anger.
“I want to testify.”
The room stills. Ryder looks down at me sharply.
“Elena.”
“I’m serious.”
“This gets ugly.”
“It already is ugly.”
Bishop studies me carefully. “You understand what that means?” I nod.
“Grant’s gonna try to destroy your reputation,” he says. “Drag your name through every tabloid and courtroom he can.”
I think about the woman in the hospital files. About myself running barefoot through rain. About the prospect tied to a chair because of me. Then I look at Ryder. At my husband. At the man who taught me surviving wasn’t shameful.
“I’m done being scared of him,” I say quietly.
Ryder watches me for a long moment. Then something fierce and proud settles across his face. And God help me… I think that look might become my favorite thing in the world.