Chapter 8 #2
Neon signs, massive hotels, the famous "Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas" sign.
Shadow navigates to a diner off the Strip. "Shiver said to meet him here."
My heart is pounding as we park.
I haven't seen my brother in a couple of years.
The diner door opens, and there he is.
Shiver.
Older than I remember. Harder. But his eyes are the same, and when he sees me, they go soft.
I'm out of the truck and running before I can think.
"Shiv!"
He catches me, lifts me off my feet, holds me tight. "Grace. Jesus. Look at you."
I'm crying. Can't help it. "I missed you."
"Missed you too, little sister." He sets me down, looks me over. "You okay? Really okay?"
"I'm okay. I promise."
Shiver looks past me at Shadow, who's standing by the truck with Banshee.
His expression goes hard.
Shiver walks over, and I hold my breath.
Shadow meets him halfway, and they stand there for a moment, sizing each other up.
Then Shiver extends his hand. "You taking care of my sister?"
Shadow shakes it. "With my life."
Shiver studies him, then nods slowly. "Good. Because if you hurt her, I don't care what club you're with or that you protected her. I'll end you."
"Fair," Shadow says simply.
And just like that, they seem to understand each other.
We pile into a booth at the diner—me, Shadow, Shiver, and Banshee.
Charlie's in the truck with the windows cracked and the AC running.
Shiver orders enough food for an army: eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes. "You're getting married. Gotta fuel up."
I can barely eat, nerves and excitement tangling in my stomach.
Shadow's hand finds my thigh under the table. Steady. Grounding.
"So," Shiver says, stabbing a forkful of eggs. "You need an officiant."
I blink. "Oh. Right. We need someone who can actually marry us."
Banshee perks up. "I could get ordained online right now. Takes like ten minutes."
Shiver shakes his head. "Nah. We got someone better."
Shadow raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Cobra." Shiver grins. "He's ordained. Real deal, not the internet bullshit. He's married half the Reapers Rejects at this point. He'll do it."
I nearly spit out my coffee. "Cobra? A guy named Cobra is going to marry us?"
Shiver's grin widens. "Ironic, right? Given you're running from guys named Venom and Rattler."
Shadow actually laughs. "Fuck. Yeah, okay. Cobra it is."
Shiver pulls out his phone. "I'll call him. He's probably still asleep, but he'll get up for this."
While Shiver steps outside to make the call, Banshee leans forward.
"So, what's the story? When people ask when you got married?"
Shadow's jaw tightens. "We tell them the truth. Today."
"Yeah, but Phantom and Copperhead Kings think you got married yesterday," Banshee points out. "You claimed it at the meet."
My stomach drops. "Right. We need to get our story straight."
Shadow thinks for a moment. "We say we did it yesterday morning. If your brother’s club has connections here, they might know someone who can backdate the marriage license. Before everything went to shit."
I stare at him. "Possibly, but what if they don’t?"
"Then we’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it, but I think we say we got married at," he checks his watch "—9:33 AM. Before the meet. Before Copperhead Kings made their move."
"Why 9:33 specifically?" I ask.
"Because specific details make lies believable. If we say 'yesterday morning,' it sounds vague. If we say 9:33, it sounds real. Plus, it needs to be on the marriage license anyway."
Banshee whistles low. "Jesus, you're good at this."
"I'm an enforcer. Was an enforcer." Shadow's jaw ticks. "Whatever. Point is, this is what I do. Make problems disappear."
Shiver returns, sliding back into the booth. "Cobra's in. He'll meet us at Little White Wedding Chapel at two PM."
I look around the table—my brother, my fiancé, Banshee.
"I'm getting married today," I say again, still not quite believing it.
Shadow leans over, kisses my temple. "Yeah, darlin'. You are."
After breakfast, we head to the Clark County Marriage Bureau.
The building is surprisingly normal—just a government office with fluorescent lights and bored clerks. We take a number, wait in plastic chairs.
Shadow's hand doesn't leave mine.
When our number is called, we approach the counter together.
The clerk is a middle-aged woman who looks like she's done this a thousand times. "IDs and license fee."
We hand over our driver's licenses. Shadow pays the $102 fee.
She types something into her computer, prints out forms. "Fill these out. Sign at the bottom."
I take the pen with shaking hands.
Bride's Full Legal Name: Grace Marie Dalton
I write it carefully, then look at Shadow's form.
He's already filling it in, his handwriting surprisingly neat.
Our hands brush as we trade papers to check each other's information.
This is real.
We're really doing this.
The clerk stamps something, slides a paper across the counter. "Congratulations. You can get married anywhere in Nevada now. License is valid for one year."
I stare at the marriage license.
My name. Shadow's name. Waiting to be official.
"Thank you," Shadow says, folding it carefully and tucking it into his pocket.
Outside, I lean against the truck, trying to breathe.
"You okay?" Shadow asks, his hands on my hips.
"I'm about to get married, and I'm wearing jeans and a tank top."
Shadow's smile is soft. "You could wear a garbage bag and you'd still be the most beautiful bride I've ever seen."
"You're biased."
"Damn right I am."
Shiver approaches with his phone. "Got some news. Good and... interesting."
"Good, first," Shadow says.
"Cobra's bringing the whole club. Figured you'd want witnesses. Protection. All of it." Shiver grins. "So, you're getting married in front of about thirty Reapers Rejects, and Damon knows someone who can back date the license, so all of it is sorted."
My eyes widen. "Thirty?"
"Brotherhood, Grace. Someone threatens one of ours, we show up. You're my sister. That makes you ours."
Warmth floods my chest. "Thank you."
"What's the interesting news?" Shadow asks.
Shiver's grin turns wicked. "Cobra's gonna officiate, and he’s putting on quite the outfit for you two."
I blink. "What?"
"He said, and I quote, 'If they're getting a Vegas wedding, I might as well stick to tradition.'" Shiver's laughing. "He's committed to the bit."
Shadow groans. "Jesus Christ."
Banshee's dying laughing. "This is the best day of my life."
I start laughing too, because what else can I do?
I'm getting married by a biker named Cobra dressed as Elvis in front of thirty outlaw bikers.
This is my life now.
At one-thirty, a woman approaches us in the chapel parking lot.
She's beautiful—Japanese, maybe early forties, with long dark hair and kind eyes.
She's wearing jeans and a leather jacket with a Reapers Rejects patch that says "Property of Mouser."
"Grace?" She smiles. "I'm Sakura. Shiver told me about you."
I shake her hand. "Nice to meet you."
She's holding something—a white dress on a hanger, covered in plastic.
"I heard you're getting married today. Figured you might want this." She holds it out. "Every bride needs a white dress. Even Vegas weddings."
I stare at the dress.
It's simple but beautiful—knee-length white lace with a sweetheart neckline.
"I... I can't..."
"Try it on. Shiver might have told me your size last night." Sakura's smile is warm. "Trust me, it’ll fit."
Shiver did text me last night and ask my size, but I didn’t even ask him why.
She leads me to a small room in the back of the chapel—the "bridal suite," which is really just a room with a mirror and a chair.
I change into the dress with shaking hands.
It fits perfectly.
Sakura produces a small makeup bag. "Let me help. If you want."
"Yes. Please."
She works quickly.
Light foundation, a touch of blush, mascara, lip gloss.
Nothing heavy, just enough to look polished.
Then she tackles my hair, twisting it into a simple updo with a few loose pieces framing my face. She tucks small white flowers—where did she get those?—into the twist.
"There." She steps back, satisfied. "Look."
I turn to the mirror.
And I don't recognize myself.
I look like a bride.
"Oh my God," I whisper.
Sakura grins. "He's gonna lose his mind when he sees you."
My hands are shaking again. "This is real. This is actually happening."
"Yeah." She squeezes my shoulder. "It is. You ready?"
I take a breath and look at myself one more time.
I've never been more ready for anything in my life.
"I'm ready."
The door to Chapel Two opens, and music starts playing.
"Can't Help Falling in Love."
Of course.
I peek through the doorway and my breath catches.
The small chapel is packed.
Thirty leather-clad men in Reapers Rejects cuts, filling every pew.
They're loud, joking, clearly ready to celebrate.
And at the front, standing with Banshee and Shiver—
Shadow.
He's still in his jeans and black t-shirt, his Shotgun Saints cut conspicuously absent.
But he's cleaned up, and he's watching the door with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
Then Cobra walks out from the side room.
I have to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
Full. Elvis. Gear.
White jumpsuit with rhinestones and a cape.
Black pompadour wig.
Sunglasses.
He strikes a pose, and the entire chapel erupts in cheers and laughter. "Thank you, thank you very much," Cobra says in a perfect Elvis voice.
Shadow's trying not to laugh. Failing.
Sakura appears at my side. "Ready?"
I nod.
The music swells.
The bikers turn to look.
And I start walking down the aisle.
Shadow's eyes find mine, and everything else fades away.
The Elvis officiant. The bikers. The kitschy Vegas chapel.
It's just him and me.
And as I walk toward him, toward my future, toward the man who chose me over everything—
I've never been more sure of anything in my life.
Shadow's smiling as I reach him, his hand reaching for mine.
"Hi," I whisper.
"Hi, darlin'." His voice is rough with emotion. "You look beautiful."
Cobra clears his throat dramatically. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—"
Someone in the back yells, "Thank you very much!"
The chapel dissolves into laughter.
And my wedding begins.