Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
ELENA
The silence after chaos feels strange. Like the world doesn’t quite know what to do with itself once the danger finally stops.
Three weeks after Grant’s arrest, I sit on the clubhouse porch watching the Arizona sunset bleed orange and gold across the desert sky while the rest of the Sons of Havoc celebrate inside.
Grant Holloway is officially finished. The list of charges is extensive, fraud, assault, money laundering, coercive control and federal charges tied to the offshore accounts.
Turns out powerful men fall hard when enough people stop protecting them.
Caroline testified. So did I. And for the first time in years, I spoke without fear.
The court didn’t feel victorious exactly.
More like exhausting. Like ripping infected stitches open so something underneath could finally heal properly.
A motorcycle engine rumbles in the distance.
My chest reacts instantly. Ryder. Always Ryder.
He pulls into the lot coated in dust and sunlight, dark hair pushed back beneath his helmet.
My husband kills the engine and looks toward me immediately.
Every single time. No matter where he is. No matter what he’s doing.
His eyes find me first. Warmth spreads through my chest before I can stop it. Dangerous how easily he became home. Ryder climbs the porch steps slowly, gaze dragging over me carefully like he’s checking for damage.
“You disappear for an hour and suddenly I get inspected?” I tease softly.
“Yeah.” The answer comes without hesitation. I smile. He stops directly in front of me, hands settling lightly on my waist.
“You okay?”
I think about the courtroom. About Grant screaming as officers dragged him away after sentencing. About the years I spent terrified of him. Then I think about now. The desert. The clubhouse. Ryder. And I realize something enormous. For the first time in years… I can breathe.
“I think so,” I whisper.
Ryder studies my face carefully. “You think so?”
“I’m still figuring out what freedom feels like.”
Something shifts in his expression. Soft. Proud. A little wrecked. His thumb brushes slowly across my hip.
“You look good wearing it.”
Emotion tightens my throat unexpectedly. I look down at the wedding ring still wrapped around my finger. Not temporary anymore. Not survival. Real.
“I got a call from the lawyer today,” I say quietly.
Ryder’s jaw tightens automatically. “Problem?”
“No.” I look back up at him. “Everything transferred officially.”
The inheritance. The ranch. The company shares. Its all mine now, free and clear, fully legal. Ryder nods once.
“Are you happy?”
That’s the strange part. I should be. Years ago, inheriting my grandparents’ legacy felt like everything. Now?
I look past Ryder toward the clubhouse where laughter spills through open windows. Ivy dancing badly with Bishop. Beast pretending he isn’t letting a prospect beat him at pool. Knuckles shouting at someone over a laptop. Family. Real family. Then I look back at my husband.
“I don’t think I want that life anymore.”
His brows pull together slightly. “What life?”
“The society events. The boardrooms. The endless pretending.” I shake my head softly. “That version of me died before I ever ran from that wedding.”
Ryder goes very still. “So what do you want?”
You. The answer rises instantly. Terrifyingly instantly. Instead I whisper “Peace.”
His eyes soften immediately. “You deserve that.”
The certainty in his voice nearly breaks me. I rest my forehead lightly against his chest. For a while, neither of us speaks. The desert wind moves softly around us. Motorcycles rumble somewhere in the distance. Ryder’s heartbeat thuds steady beneath my cheek. Safe.
Then quietly, he says “You know you don’t have to stay here because of me.” The words hurt more than they should. I lean back enough to look at him properly.
“Is that what you think?”
Ryder’s jaw flexes. “You married me to survive.”
“That’s how it started.”
His gaze searches mine carefully. “And now?”
Emotion swells painfully in my chest.
“Now I don’t know how to imagine a life without you in it.”
That wrecks him. I see it happen. The hard edges in his expression crack slightly, exposing something raw underneath. His hand slides into my hair gently.
“Elena…”
“I mean it.”
He kisses me before I can say anything else. Deep. Slow. Almost desperate. The kind of kiss that says too much without words. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
“You make it real dangerous to leave,” he mutters.
The words hit me wrong instantly. Leave. Of course. Nomad. The ache that follows surprises me with its sharpness. Ryder notices immediately.
“Sweetheart.”
“You still want to go.”
It’s not really a question. Silence answers anyway. My chest tightens painfully. Because somewhere along the way, I forgot Ryder was always temporary. And maybe that makes me the idiot after all.