Page 79 of Life Or Death

“So what—” Shadow’s voice cuts off, and he runs a hand over his face. “He was your best man?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “There was no best man. She was in a fucking coma, Shadow. We had to forge the application. Dread had a judge backdate the license before we submitted it to the insurance company.”

Shadow just stares at me. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes wide. “You forged a marriage certificate.”

“I did it so she could get well. That’s it.”

Shadow’s jaw works. He looks away, toward the highway, then back at me. “She looks pretty fucking well to me, and you’re still married. Fuck, you even got her working at the clubhouse now.”

I don’t say anything to that. There’s nothing to say that won’t make me sound like a man who’s in way over his head.

Shadow studies me for a long moment. The anger bleeds out of his face, replaced by something that looks like empathy. “You’re in love with her.”

My throat tightens.

Yeah. I’m in love with her.

But I don’t say that out loud. Some things are too raw, too new, to hand over to another person, even if that person is my vice president.

Shadow watches me, waiting for an answer. When it becomes clear I’m not going to give him one, he lets out a long breath.

“So, what now?”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You just fucking beat the piss out of Nightmare for talking shit about an unclaimed woman.”

“She’s not⁠—”

He cuts me off with a raised eyebrow. “I get she’s your wife on a piece of paper, man, and that she means something to you, but the girl doesn’t have a property patch.”

Something hot and possessive flares in my chest. I staked my claim last night when I took her into my bed and put her to sleep, wet and messy and full of my cum. When I marked her neck and her thighs with my teeth and my mouth. When I spread my release across her skin and watched it seep into her like a brand. When I tucked her into my sheets and listened to her snore and thought, for the first time in my goddamn life, that I might actually be happy.

But in reality, she’s been mine before all of that. She’s been rooted in my marrow from the moment I laid eyes on her. I’ve just been too much of a fucking coward to admit it.

None of that matters when it comes to the club, though. The rules were established long before I ever held the gavel. A woman without a patch is fair game, and every one of my brothers knows that. Nightmare wasn’t out of line.

I was.

“I’m staking my claim,” I grunt. “Jess is off limits. When we get back, I’m making her my ol’ lady.”

Shadow studies me for a beat, then nods. “Then maybe you need to make that clear to the rest of the club before we cross the border.”

I drag my hand down my face and let out a long, heavy sigh. He’s right. If I’m going to send these men into a war zone with me, they deserve to know what they’re fighting for—and who they’re fighting alongside. Especially after what just happened with Nightmare.

“Fine,” I grind out. “Call them over.”

Shadow nods and turns, walking back toward the picnic table. I hear him bark something, and a moment later, the club converges around me.

I stand with my back to the highway, the wind whipping at my cut, and I look at each of them. Nightmare is still bleeding, holding a wad of napkins to his nose. Dread stands with his arms crossed, watching me with an expression that says I told you so. Tormentor’s face is unreadable, and Mammon just looks confused.

I clear my throat, my gaze drifting back to Nightmare. “You said some shit about Jess, and I reacted. That’s on me. But here’s what you need to understand.” I pause, letting my gaze move from man to man. “Jess isn’t just some girl working at the clubhouse. She’s my wife. And when we get back from this run, she’s getting a property patch.”

Silence hangs in the air for a beat.

Then Nightmare pulls the napkins away from his face. His nose swollen, his lip split, and blood is crusting along his jaw.

“Should’ve told us sooner, Prez,” he growls. “Would’ve saved me a broken nose.”