The Ruthless Biker's Ex-Convict Bride

Chapter 8

Wren’s Point Of View

My heart is in my throat. I have no idea what Ash is about to say. There was no plan. There wasn't time for one, and now it's out of my hands.

Ash looks at Elias, takes a slow breath through the blood in his mouth, and spits it straight into his face.

"Of course I claimed somebody."

Elias wipes it off with the back of his hand, his jaw hard, and presses down on the wound in Ash's side until Ash's whole body goes rigid, his face twisting in agonizing pain. I can barely stand there and watch him because I never thought someone could ever be so strong.

"Think real carefully," Elias says, low, "about what lying costs you in this room."

Ash doesn't pull away from the pressure. Doesn't even flinch, which is somehow worse than if he had. He starts talking about my height, my build, the way I carry myself, the exact shape of my hands, as if he's memorized them from a photograph instead of the few days he's spent in my life. Every detail has my heart racing. I didn’t think anyone could even notice certain things about me, and I feel my pulse hammering somewhere behind my ears.

"Ask around if you don't believe me," he says, now looking up at Elias with a smile. "Everybody already knows me as the doctor’s man. She’s mine, just as I am hers."

Elias blinks, his grip loosening just enough to let Ash move back so Elias can look at his face.

"The doctor," he repeats, looking at me like the pieces just clicked somewhere behind his eyes. "That's you?"

I stomp down on his boot the second his hand slackens, and I'm clear before he can recover, putting space between us before he can actually act.

I walk to the center of the room and face Elias straight on because I'm f*****g tired of his stupid ass now.

"I'm still a citizen," I say, keeping my voice really low. "My parole never touched my rights. He's claimed. Without hard proof, no club rule lets you torture somebody's man." I say it with such confidence, even though I feel weak.

Elias laughs, short and humorless, with no warmth in it at all, while keeping his eyes on me.

"Since when do you keep a boy toy?"

I don't answer that. I crouch next to Ash instead and start working his restraints loose with fingers that don't shake, not anymore, not now that there's something to actually do.

"You're the one who walked away, Elias," I say over my shoulder. "I'm not asking your permission for anything ever again. Step aside or watch. Your choice."

The Sergeant loses whatever's left of his patience and comes at me, hand already raised.

Ash moves faster than a man half-beaten to death has any right to. The chain's still looped around his own wrists when he whips it around the asshole's throat and locks it down tight.

"Touch her," he says flatly and calmly, nothing like a man who just took a beating, "and I put you down."

The asshole claws at the chain. Nothing gives. His face starts turning a color I recognize from watching men suffocate slowly in places with no windows. I have been here before, watching people die, so I know Ash might kill this man, and that will cause problems.

I straighten and look at Elias, not giving myself a chance to look weak in his eyes.

"Cut him loose," I say, my face straight and jaw tight. "Whatever happens to your man from here is on you."

Nobody moves. Every eye in the room swings to Elias, waiting, and for one long stretch of silence, I genuinely don't know which way this breaks. Elias might decide to kill Ash and me while we stand here, but I have to try.

He watches me, his jaw tight, eyes locked on me as if he is trying to understand what’s happening. "Let them go."

The restraints come off. I get Ash upright, his weight heavier against me than I want to admit, and we start moving. I have to get out of here.

Out of the back room and into the main clubhouse, every member who clocks my face stops what they're doing. The quiet that follows is worse than shouting would've been. Faces I used to know. People I used to trust with my life, looking at me now like something that crawled up out of the ground and doesn't belong walking upright.

I feel myself lock up beside him, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the door. Ash is hurt. I need to get him out of here.

Ash doesn't say anything. He finds my hand, squeezes it once, and lets go before anyone can read too much into it. His eyes sweep the room slowly, and the stares back; whatever they see in his face, nobody decides it's worth testing tonight. He gets an arm around me and keeps us moving toward the door.

I can feel warmth soaking through his sleeve where it's pressed against me. Blood. He's holding himself upright on nothing but stubbornness, and I know it, and I pick up the pace anyway because stopping isn't an option, and f**k. He is losing so much blood now.

Elias follows us out.

"Stop," I say, not turning around.

"If I wasn't standing there," he says, flat, "you don't walk out of that building tonight. Stranger in tow or not."

I don't argue. I keep walking, because he's not wrong and I don't have the energy to pretend otherwise.

Near the front door, his voice drops behind me, quieter now.

"You know where to find me."

I don't turn around. I step outside into the cold, and a hand comes out of nowhere.

The slap echoes off the pavement.

"You've got the nerve to show your face here?" The voice is a woman's, shaking with something far past anger. "You f*****g murderer bitch."