Claimed by the reaper

Chapter 20

They told Preacher and the wider club the following morning, and the reaction carried none of the careful, measured caution Wren had half expected. Instead, it was replaced by immediate, genuine celebration that caught her pleasantly off guard.

"A baby," Denise said, delighted, already reaching for Wren with an embrace that carried none of her earlier careful reserve. "This clubhouse hasn't had a baby to fuss over in longer than I care to admit."

"Congratulations," Preacher said, something warm moving beneath his usual measured composure as he clasped Gideon's shoulder. "This changes things, though. I want increased security around Wren immediately, effective today. Whatever threat Marcus still represents, it's considerably more significant now."

"I've already given the order," Gideon said, something fierce and absolute in his expression. "Full perimeter watch, no exceptions, until we're certain he's genuinely gone rather than simply retreated temporarily."

Wren felt the shift in the room's collective attention settle over her with a weight she hadn't fully anticipated. She was no longer simply a woman under the club's protection, but someone carrying a stake in their future significant enough that even the club's more hardened members seemed to regard her differently, more carefully, in the hours following the announcement.

"You're handling this well," Sabrina observed later that day, finding Wren in the garden, one hand resting instinctively over her still flat stomach as she watched the increased security patrols move through their careful routines. "The sudden attention, I mean."

"I'm trying to," Wren admitted. "It's strange, honestly. Three years of trying to be as unremarkable as possible, to avoid drawing Marcus's attention to anything that might give him leverage. Now I'm suddenly the center of everyone's careful, protective focus, and I don't quite know what to do with that shift."

"Get used to it," Sabrina said, smiling. "This club takes care of its own, Wren. And you're very much one of its own now, baby included."

The renewed security proved prescient within the week, when Silas intercepted communication suggesting Marcus had not, in fact, fully retreated. He had simply relocated his surveillance to a more cautious distance, watching and waiting for an opportunity that Gideon's direct warning had only temporarily disrupted.

"He knows about the pregnancy," Silas reported grimly during an emergency meeting called the moment the intelligence had been confirmed. "I don't know how, exactly. Possibly surveillance, possibly a loose word somewhere in town. But he's aware, and if my read on his recent communications is accurate, this changes his calculations considerably."

"Meaning what?" Gideon asked, his voice tight with controlled fury.

"Meaning a man like Marcus, who's spent three years viewing Wren as something he owns rather than someone with her own autonomy, is unlikely to simply accept that she's building a family with someone else," Silas said carefully. "If anything, I'd expect this news to make him considerably more desperate, not less."

Wren felt old fear crash back over her with fresh, visceral intensity.

"He's going to come after us. Both of us."

"He's going to try," Gideon said, fierce and absolute, crossing the room to take her hands in his. "But he's not going to succeed, Wren. I promise you that, completely."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because I'm not the same careful, measured threat he encountered during our last conversation," Gideon said, something cold and determined entering his voice. "That was a warning, delivered with restraint specifically because Preacher asked me to control myself. If he's genuinely threatening you and our child now, restraint stops being the priority. Protecting both of you becomes the only thing that matters."

Preacher, listening carefully from across the room, nodded slowly.

"I agree. Whatever caution I asked for before, this changes the calculation entirely. If Marcus poses a genuine threat to a pregnant woman under this club's protection, we respond with everything necessary to eliminate that threat completely."

That evening, once the club's careful planning had settled into focused, determined preparation, Wren found herself standing at a window in an unused room down the hall from their own. It wasn't an actual nursery yet, simply a space she'd begun, almost unconsciously, imagining differently over the past few days. She watched the increased security patrols move through their careful routines below.

Gideon joined her there, wrapping his arms around her from behind, one hand settling protectively over her still flat stomach.

"I keep thinking about how quickly everything's changed," Wren said quietly. "A week ago, I was simply learning to feel safe here. Now I'm carrying a child into the middle of a threat that's somehow become even more dangerous than before."

"I know," Gideon admitted. "I wish I could promise you this pregnancy arrived at a simpler time. I can't. But I can promise you this. Whatever Marcus attempts, whatever danger still surrounds us, I am not going anywhere. Not for a single moment until both of you are completely, permanently safe."

"I believe you," Wren said softly, leaning back into him, old fear tangling with fierce, growing hope for the future steadily building between them despite every obstacle still standing in their way. "I believe in all of it, actually. This family we're building, this fight we're still finishing. I don't think I've ever believed in anything as completely as I believe in you."

"Then hold onto that," Gideon said, his voice steady and certain against her hair. "Whatever comes next, Marcus, the investigation, everything still unresolved, we face it exactly the way we've faced everything else. Together, and completely unafraid."

Outside, the security patrols continued their careful, vigilant circuits of the property, an entire club rallying fiercely around the woman who'd walked into their world soaked and frightened months earlier, now carrying a new life that made every remaining danger considerably more urgent to resolve and considerably more worth fighting for, whatever the cost.