The Ruthless Biker's Ex-Convict Bride

Chapter 6

Elias’s Point of View

Since taking the President's chair, everything has fallen into place exactly the way it was supposed to.

I married Miranda. I've got the Vice President's full backing, and every man loyal to him. The club's finances are solid for the first time in years, the pipeline's running clean, morale's steady enough that nobody questions my name when it comes up in a room. From the outside, I'm exactly what a Club President should look like. Stable and ruthless.

Only I know I'm not happy. Only I know that I sit down and stare at my windows, wondering what if. I made my choices, every one of them with a clear conscience, and that door is closed. I don't open closed doors. It's the only rule I've never once broken. Never look back.

Right now there’s a stranger they dragged in here from the edge of town. My man Jamie found him at a*****e, and when they tried to get information from him, it turned out he had no ID on him, and no one recognised him.

When they pushed him, he got physical with them, so they took him on and dragged him here. With everything moving through the supply chain lately, any unmarked man who can put up a fight like this one apparently did gets treated as a problem until he proves otherwise. Copperhead's small enough that outside interest, from any direction, is never good news. Never has been.

I head down to the holding room myself. Some things a President doesn't delegate. I need answers for myself too. How the f**k did someone like him, who was able to take down Cole and his men before finally losing, end up on my territory?

The stranger's secured to the post, bleeding sluggishly and slowly, not going anywhere. I circle once, taking in the restraint scars that are older. He looks like he has been through this before and won’t break easily.

After landing a few punches and trying to get answers from him, he is still not talking.

Fuck. The bastard is stubborn. He is beginning to get on my f*****g nerves now.

"Let's try this again," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Who sent you?"

Nothing. Just breathing, looking at me with a cold glare.

"You don't talk; I decide what happens to you. And right now, this isn’t looking good for—"

The door opens behind me before I can finish my sentence, and I turn my head, and everything in me goes still.

It’s her. My Wren. Standing here in the f*****g flesh, and she looks every bit like her.

**

Wren’s point of view

I wasn't ready for this. I wasn’t thinking when I decided to storm in here because all I saw was red, and I wanted to take Ash out of here.

But now that I’m here, I forget to breathe for a second. Three years, and he looks exactly like the man I fell in love with. He looks put together, every inch the man he always meant to become, while I look nothing like I should with a plaid shirt and jeans. Something twists in my chest, and I don't have room for it tonight. I lock it down hard and keep my eyes on the room, not on him.

Elias stares at me like he isn't sure I'm real, as if I might be something his guilt conjured up to torture him tonight.

"Wren." His voice catches. "Nobody told me you were—why didn't anyone say you were out—"

"I'm not here for that." I cut him off.

I'm not here to listen to him explain why he abandoned me when I needed him the most. I point past him, at the post, at Ash slumped and bleeding.

"That's my patient. I'm taking him."

Elias doesn't move. He just watches me as I take steps toward Ash.

"He has no ID. No story that holds together." His voice hardens back into the President's voice, the one he uses when he wants to assert his power. "Under club rules, I have every right to hold him, Wren, and every reason to."

"He's hurt. He needs a hospital, not f*****g here, Elias."

"He needs to explain who he is first." He steps closer, and there's something underneath the authority I almost don't want to name—hurt, maybe. I don’t know, and I don’t f*****g care. "Who is he to you? Why would you walk back into this building for a stranger?"

I clock the room in the half-second I have. Two men by the door I came through. One more near the far wall, arms crossed, watching me. Every way out covered. Ash's blood is dripping steadily off his fingertips onto the concrete, a small dark clock counting down, and his eye is swollen, his face near the ground.

"He's not club business," I try. "He's not connected to anything you're chasing."

"That's not an answer. I want one, Wren."

One of Elias's men snorts, shifts his weight, clearly enjoying himself.

"Funny thing about parole," he says, almost lazy with it. "Harboring an unmarked stranger with your rap sheet? That's a violation right there. One phone call and you are back inside before sunrise."

"Shut the f**k up." Elias doesn't even look at him when he says it, but the words land, and the asshole keeps his mouth shut, grunting in the process.

I feel every set of eyes in the room settle on me, waiting to see which way this breaks.

There's exactly one card left in my hand, and it's the kind I don't get to take back once it's on the table. I don't let myself hesitate over it, or think about what it costs me to say it in front of him. I know I will f*****g regret it, but it’s the only way I can save Ash from whatever cruel fate is waiting for him.

I look Elias dead in the eye, without blinking, as I utter the words I shouldn’t.

"He's my man. That’s why I’m here."