We got married six months after that night in the casino. Small ceremony at the clubhouse with just the brothers and their families. Pope officiated. Ghost was Ryan's best man. I had no family there, had cut them off completely by then, but I didn't need them. The club became my family.
The twins came two years later. A surprise pregnancy that terrified both of us until the moment we saw them on the ultrasound. Two tiny heartbeats. Two perfect little girls who would grow up knowing they were wanted, chosen, loved unconditionally.
We named them Ruby and Lily. Gemstones and flowers. Beautiful things that grow in unexpected places.
They have Ryan's sharp intelligence and my stubbornness. His protective instincts and my empathy. They're perfect, and I still can't believe they're ours.
"What are you thinking about?" Ryan asks, reading my expression like he always does.
"How lucky I am. How different my life could have been if I hadn't run that night."
"You would have figured it out eventually."
"Maybe. But I'm glad I didn't have to." I reach up and cup his face, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against my palm. "I'm glad I found you instead."
"Found me?" He raises an eyebrow. "Pretty sure I found you. Sitting in my casino in a wedding dress, looking like you'd been through hell."
"And you helped me. Even though you didn't have to. Even though it broke club rules."
"Best rule I ever broke." He kisses me, the kind of kiss that still makes my toes curl after eight years. "No regrets, baby. Not a single one."
I believe him. Because in eight years, he's never once made me feel like I was a burden. Never complained about the baggage I brought into his life. Never looked at me with anything but love and desire and fierce protectiveness.
He's the opposite of Derek in every possible way.
Derek. I haven't thought about him in years. After that first week, when the Steel Sinners made it very clear that I was under their protection and anyone who came looking for me would regret it, he disappeared from my life completely.
I heard through the grapevine that he married someone else six months later. Some society woman his family approved of. I felt sorry for her but I didn't reach out. That wasn't my responsibility anymore.
My family was harder to let go of.
For the first year, I ignored their calls and messages. Blocked numbers, deleted emails, refused to engage. But they were persistent. My mother especially.
Finally, three years ago, I agreed to meet them. Neutral location, Ryan by my side, just to see if maybe, possibly, they'd realized what they'd done.
They hadn't.
My mother spent an hour telling me I'd made a mistake. That I'd chosen the wrong life. That I could still fix things if I just apologized to Derek and came home. My sisters nodded along, agreeing with everything she said. My father sat silent, like he always did, letting my mother speak for him.
Not once did they ask if I was happy. Not once did they acknowledge that Derek had hurt me. Not once did they apologize for choosing him over me.
I remember Ryan's hand tightening on mine under the table. Remember the muscle ticking in his jaw as he listened to them tear apart the life we'd built together. Remember making the conscious decision not to defend myself, not to argue, not to try to make them understand.
Because they didn't want to understand. They wanted me to be small and quiet and grateful again. Wanted me to fit back into the box they'd built for me.
And I was done being small.
"Thank you for coming," I said when my mother finally stopped talking. "But I won't be doing this again. This is my life. These are my choices. And I'm happy with both."
"Savannah—" my mother started.
"I'm done." I stood up, Ryan standing with me. "I hope you have good lives. But they won't include me."
We walked out together, and I haven't spoken to them since.
I cried that night. Sobbed in Ryan's arms while he held me and told me I did the right thing, that I deserved better, that their loss was his gain. And when I was done crying, I felt lighter. Free.
That was the last time I cried over them.
