6. Raven
RAVEN
Wraith's mouth traced lazy heat along my collarbone, his dog tags cool between my breasts where they'd settled after he'd placed them around my neck hours ago. Sunlight filtered through his bedroom blinds, painting gold across skin still flushed from claiming each other through the night.
"We need to talk about Blade," I murmured, fingers threading through his hair. "About church tomorrow—"
"Later." His teeth grazed my throat, hand sliding possessively over my hip. "Right now I just want—"
The apartment door crashed open.
No knock. No warning. Just Blade filling the doorway, combat boots planted wide, taking in the scene with the kind of instant comprehension that comes from knowing someone their whole life.
"I know we agreed to handle this at church," he said, voice deadly calm.
"Don't care. Been driving around for three hours thinking about Tiffany's face when she told me some asshole was asking about Raven at the clinic.
About why my VP had to tell me instead of my best friend.
" His focus locked on the scene before him—me in Wraith's shirt, the tags, the marks on my throat.
"Couldn't wait another goddamn minute for answers. "
Wraith's shirt hung off my shoulder. His tags rested against my chest. Bruises from his mouth marked my throat. The sheets twisted around us told their own story.
"No." The word emerged quiet, lethal.
I scrambled upright, clutching the sheet. "Blade—"
"Don't." His focus locked on Wraith, who'd moved to stand beside me, shirtless, split knuckles from yesterday's fight with Derek still visible. "My sister. You touched my sister."
"I love your sister." Wraith's voice stayed level despite the fury radiating off my brother.
Wrong answer. Blade's fist connected with Wraith's jaw hard enough to snap his head sideways. Blood sprayed from his already split lip—Derek's work, now reopened. But Wraith didn't block, didn't dodge, didn't even raise his hands.
Just took it.
"Fight back!" Blade grabbed Wraith's shoulders, slamming him into the wall. Pictures rattled. "You betrayed me! You swore you'd protect her!"
"I am protecting her." Blood ran down Wraith's chin but his stance stayed solid, hands at his sides. "I'll die before letting anyone hurt her—including you if necessary."
Blade froze. "You threatening me?"
"I'm stating facts." Wraith straightened but kept his defensive posture neutral, refusing to engage. "I love her. She loves me. That's not changing whether you accept it or not."
"Love?" Blade's laugh came out sharp, bitter. "You've known her three weeks!"
"Three weeks or three decades—doesn't matter." I pushed between them, forcing my brother to look at me instead of planning Wraith's murder. "You felt it with Tiffany. That instant recognition. Don't pretend you don't understand."
"That's different—"
"Why? Because she's not your best friend's sister?" I moved closer, making him really see me. Not his baby sister. A woman who'd made her choice. "I'm not asking permission. I'm telling you how it is."
Blade's jaw worked, hurt warring with fury across features I'd known my entire life. "He swore to me—"
"To protect her," Wraith interrupted. "And I have. From her ex. From anyone who'd hurt her. Even from myself when I tried keeping distance."
"You should've kept trying."
"I'm done fighting this." Wraith shifted beside me, his hand finding mine despite the blood on his knuckles. "I choose her. Over the brotherhood if necessary. Over everything."
The declaration hung between us, massive in its simplicity. Blade stared at our joined hands, something shifting behind the anger.
"Get out." His voice came out rough. "Both of you. I can't—"
Footsteps on the stairs cut him off. Not boots. Dress shoes climbing with deliberate intent.
Derek appeared behind Blade, looking worse than when he'd fled Wraith's apartment yesterday. Nose crooked and swollen, one eye completely shut, lips split and puffy. But entitled stupidity brought him back anyway.
"Raven, we need—"
He didn't finish.
Blade and Wraith moved in perfect synchronization—twenty years of military brotherhood overriding their current conflict. Blade's fist buried in Derek's solar plexus while Wraith swept his legs. Derek hit the floor gasping.
"You the ex?" Blade's voice dropped to Montana winter cold.
Derek wheezed something that might have been yes.
"The one stalking my sister?"
Another wheeze.
Blade hauled Derek up by his ruined collar, slammed him into the hallway wall. "Raven's a Beckett. That means she's under Pike Creek Riders protection. Come near her again, text her, even dream about her, they'll need dental records for identification. Clear?"
Derek's good eye went wide, darting between the two bikers who'd gone from fighting each other to united threat in seconds.
"I asked a question."
"Clear! It's clear!"
"Good." Blade dropped him. "Now crawl away before we decide you need convincing."
Derek scrambled toward the stairs on hands and knees, dignity abandoned. The exit door slammed behind him.
Silence settled over us. Blade and Wraith stood shoulder to shoulder in the hallway, shift from violence to stillness almost surreal.
They stood there, twenty years of shared history between them, before Blade turned back.
"This doesn't mean I'm okay with it."
"I know."
"You betrayed me."
"I know."
"I should kill you."
"Probably." Wraith paused. "But you won't. Because I protected her. Even from you just now."
"Why'd you take that hit without fighting back?"
"Because you're my brother. Because I betrayed that. Because you had the right." Wraith's hand tightened on mine. "And because nothing you could do would make me stop loving her."
Before Blade could respond, more footsteps. Boots this time. Official ones.
Sheriff Jenkins appeared, Quinn behind him trying to hide a smile.
"Another disturbance call at this address," Jenkins said, taking in the scene. Blood on the walls, Wraith and Blade both bleeding, me in Wraith's shirt. "Anyone want to explain?"
"Car trouble," we said in unison.
Jenkins threw up his hands. "Every single time with you people. Car trouble." He noticed blood drops leading downstairs. "The owner of that blood walking out on his own?"
"Running, last I saw," Quinn offered.
"He pressing charges?"
"Doubt it," Blade said flatly.
"Then I'm going home to my now-cold dinner." Jenkins headed for the stairs, paused. “And Beckett?cYour sister's a grown woman making her own choices. And Wraith? Next time someone needs attitude adjustment, try not leaving DNA evidence in the hallway."
He left. Quinn lingered, grinning.
"This is adorable. The matching guilty-not-sorry expressions." She headed out. "See you all at church tomorrow. Should be entertaining."
Her footsteps faded, leaving the three of us in the wreckage.
"Church tomorrow," Blade said finally. "We settle this properly." He looked between us, something softening fractionally. "You're my sister. Wraith, despite current evidence, you're my MC brother. We'll figure it out."
He left without another word.
Wraith sagged against the wall, adrenaline crashing. I moved to him, fingers gentle on his split lip.
"You okay?"
"Been hit harder." He caught my hand, pressed it to his chest where his heart hammered. "That went better than expected."
"You let him hit you."
"He needed to. And I deserved it." His arms came around me. "But anyone else who tries hurting you—"
"I know." I rose to kiss him, careful of his injuries. "My protector."
"Always."
Two weeks later, the Sunday dinner table at Viper and Tara's groaned under food and laughter. The entire inner circle had gathered—Tara's tradition to "civilize you heathens."
I sat between Wraith and Tiffany, wearing my new cut with pride: Property of Wraith, Pike Creek Riders MC. The leather still felt stiff, still smelled new. The weight of it felt right.
"Pass the potatoes," Blade said neutrally.
Wraith handed them over, fingers briefly touching. A peace offering in side dishes. Not back to normal—might never be completely. But trying.
"Heard Derek Martell left town fast enough to forget checking out of Mountain View Inn," Tara said, bouncing baby James on her knee while Izzy helped set the table.
"Lot of car trouble going around," Phoenix said innocently.
"Epidemic, really," Wolf agreed, arm around Quinn despite her father's continued disapproval.
"To car trouble," Viper raised his beer, presidential authority making it a toast.
"To car trouble," we echoed.
Blade's gaze found mine across the table. Hurt lingered—might always linger. But understanding too. Maybe acceptance, eventually.
"To family," he said quietly, including Wraith in his look. "However complicated."
"To family," I agreed.
Wraith's hand found mine under the table, thumb stroking my knuckles. His tags rested against my chest, hidden under my shirt but always there. Reminder of what we'd chosen, what we'd fought for, what we'd won.
Conversation shifted to shop talk, club business, Izzy's latest school drama. Normal Sunday chaos. But I caught Blade watching us throughout—seeing how Wraith touched me constantly. Hand on my back, fingers in my hair. Unconscious gestures of possession and protection.
"You really love her," he said quietly when others were distracted.
"More than my next breath," Wraith answered without hesitation.
"You'll protect her?"
"Already proved that, haven't I?"
"From external threats. But what about from yourself? This life?"
"The life chose her much as I did." Wraith's tone stayed even, respectful. "She's stronger than you think."
"I know exactly how strong my sister is." Blade's jaw worked. "That's what scares me. Strong enough to handle whatever comes. Shouldn't have to, though."
"None of us should have to handle the shit life throws at us," I interjected. "But we do. And we're stronger together than apart."
Blade studied me, then nodded. Sharp. Final. "Church voted. You're recognized as Wraith's old lady. The club accepts it."
"But do you?"
"I'm trying." The admission cost him. "Give me time."
"All the time you need," Wraith said. "We're not going anywhere."
Later, as we helped clear dishes, Blade pulled Wraith aside. I couldn't hear what passed between them, but they clasped hands briefly, something easing in both their postures.
"What'd he say?" I asked on the ride home, arms wrapped around Wraith's waist as his bike ate up Montana highway.
"Said if I ever hurt you, he'll kill me slow. But if anyone else tries hurting you, he'll help me hide the bodies."
"That's practically a blessing from him."
"Exactly what it was."
We pulled into his apartment—our apartment now—and rightness settled into my bones. This was home. Not the physical space. The man who'd fought his own brother's trust to have me. Who'd bled to protect me. Who'd chosen me over everything safe and easy.
"No regrets?" he asked, pulling me against him in our living room.
"Never." I pulled his tags from under my shirt, letting them catch light. "I'm exactly where I belong."
He kissed me then, deep and possessive and full of promise. When we broke apart, he said, "Bed. Now. Need to put my mouth on every inch of you."
"Again? We just did that this morning."
"And we'll do it again tonight, tomorrow morning, tomorrow night. Every day for the rest of our lives if you'll let me."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
As he carried me to our bedroom, I thought about the journey bringing us here. Three weeks fighting attraction. One explosive kiss. A dangerous ex. A brother's fury. Violence and choosing and claiming against all odds.
Worth every second.
Because Wraith Cooper was mine, and I was his.
The forbidden had become forever.
And forever looked perfect from where I stood—in the arms of the man who'd upended everything for love.
THE END