The Ruthless Biker's Ex-Convict Bride

Chapter 7

Wren’s point of view

The claim hangs in the air one second before Elias shuts down whatever crossed his face and goes cold. His eyes drop to my wrist, checking. Looking for ink that isn't there, that's never going to be there.

"You're lying." He says it flat, almost bored, as if he already had the answer before he checked. "If he belonged to you, you'd be wearing his name."

I hate this rule of getting ink just to show that you are f*****g claimed. But for Elias, I was ready to do whatever s**t he wanted me to do for him. I can't believe that for him I was ready to do anything.

"A claim doesn't have to be inked yet to be real." I don't blink, keeping my eyes on him so he knows that I mean every f*****g word. "Some men wait. Some men do it right instead of rushing it."

Something crosses his face I still recognize after three years, damn him. His jaw tight, eyes locked on me a beat too long, the exact look he used to get whenever another man so much as glanced my way. Jealous and possessive over me, but trying not to look it. I file that under not now and hold my ground, because whatever's happening behind his eyes doesn't get to matter tonight. He f****d me over and left me to rot.

It’s all I can think of. He left me.

"That's convenient," he says with a smile.

"That's true." I insist because I know he will not let this go.

"Prove it."

"I don't owe you proof. I owe you nothing." My voice doesn't shake. "Untie him."

"Under club rules—"

"Your rules don't apply to me anymore, remember? You made sure of that." I snap, my voice sharp and clipped, but I don’t f*****g care. He threw me to the wolves and forgot about me.

His jaw ticks. We go back and forth, tighter each round, the room holding its breath around us like it's watching a fuse burn down toward something it already knows is coming.

“Wren,” Elias finally says, but I don't want to argue with him. I have nothing to say to him or his men. I just want to get Ash out of here and head back home.

“No, we are not doing this. Just let us go, and we will stay the f**k away from you,” I insist, my attention clearly on him.

I don't see his man move until it's already happening. It’s too late, and I can't get to him.

He grabs a bottle off the table, something dark and strong enough to strip skin off a man twice, and pours it straight into the open wound along Ash's ribs.

"No!"

I lunge before I can even think twice. Elias's hand closes around my wrist mid-motion, hard, with no give in it at all, and it doesn't matter how much I pull; he doesn't budge an inch.

"Let go of me—" I scream at the top of my voice, trying to free myself.

"Wren, stop!"

"Let go of me," I scream at the top of my voice, trying to pull free. I can still feel the tingles on my skin as I try to free myself from him.

The pain drags Ash straight out of unconsciousness.

He seizes against the restraints, a raw, guttural sound tearing out of him that I feel in my own chest like it's mine. The asshole watches him thrash with something close to satisfaction as he watches Ash struggle, and something twists in my chest. I can't bear to see him in pain.

I've had him pegged since I walked in. The stance. The look. The way his knuckles are already split.

"You're the one who's been working him over all night," I spit, ignoring the way Elias is looking at me. "Aren't you?"

He smiles like I've paid him a compliment, looking me up and down before shifting his attention to Ash, then back to me. I yank my hand from Elias’s grip because I can't stand feeling him touch me.

"Somebody's got to do the job right."

He closes the distance fast, gets in my face, and muscles me sideways into a blind spot where Ash can't see me even if his eyes were open. His voice drops low, meant only for me.

"Your little story's about to fall apart," he murmurs with a f*****g smile, but I keep my face straight. I'm not going to show him that he might have the upper hand on me. "And you're going down with it."

"Ash—" I try to raise my voice, twist enough for him to hear me, see me, anything. "Ash, I'm here—"

The asshole's grip tightens on my arm, locking me down, cutting the sound off before it can carry to him. No. Ash.

Then Ash's eyes open slowly, following the sound of my voice.

The room goes still in a way that has nothing to do with the restraints holding him. His gaze moves across every face in that room, slow and deliberate. My heart races, and I hold my breath, hoping he is fine, that nothing happened to him.

His eyes drift around the room from Elias to the asshole, the men by the door, back to Elias, me, as if he is trying to weigh his options. Nobody breathes right for a second, myself included, because right now he looks like a feral animal, and I'm scared of what might happen to him.

Elias steps in close, grabs Ash by the jaw, and forces his head up so there's nowhere else to look but at him, with such delight in his voice.

His voice comes out flat. Yet dangerous. I hate how he treats him, but I stop in my tracks. I need to convince Elias to let us go.

"You claimed her? Why don’t you tell me her f*****g name?" he asks Ash, and I hold my breath because I know Elias. He is trying to decide if my story is true.