Page 119 of Slayin Villain
Kingpin nodded slowly.“We’re not in the business of raising kids alone.You got protection here.You’re part of this family, whether you like it or not.”
Irish cleared his throat.“You plannin’ on leavin’ again, girl?”
“No,” she said.“Not now.”
“Then what do you want, Ember?”Kingpin asked.
She looked down at her daughter, then up at all of us.“I want her to have a chance.A real one.Not running from town to town like I did.Not afraid.If that means staying here, letting the club help me raise her, then fine.I’ll stay.But I’m not anyone’s prisoner.Not anymore.”
Kingpin smirked.“You’re not a prisoner.You’re one of us now.”
“I don’t want a patch,” she said quickly.
“You don’t need one,” he replied.“Your kid’s got the blood.”
That shut everyone up.
Later that night, I came home to Rachel and the baby on the couch.
I kissed Rachel like a man who knew better now.Kissed her like a man who’d nearly lost everything.
She pulled me down beside her and whispered, “We’re gonna be okay.”
I believed her.
Chapter 53
Rachel
The day I married Villain, the clouds finally parted.
Literally.It had rained every damn day for a week straight, thunder rolling in like bad omens.But this morning?The sun showed up like it was invited.The kind of golden, glowing warmth that hit the rolling hills of Royal Road’s compound like a spotlight from heaven.Banners whipped in the breeze, bikes lined up like an army of thunder and chrome, and Mason jars filled with wildflowers dressed up the picnic tables.The women wore white dresses and leather cuts.I wore mine too.
Property of Villain, stitched in bold red thread on my back.
I didn’t even cry as I walked down the makeshift aisle between the bikes, not until I saw him.Villain.My man.My storm.My home.
He wore a black cut over a crisp white shirt, his blond hair slicked back, beard trimmed just enough to make my thighs ache.His boots gleamed like he’d polished ‘em with blood and pride.But it was his eyes that undid me, intense, steady, like he’d already made a vow before opening his mouth.
“You sure?”he asked low as I stepped up beside him.
I nodded.“Ain’t never been more sure.”
Kingpin officiated, standing tall in his shades like a southern warlord preacher.Irish was his best man that day, Pagan hovering nearby with Cece and Eve.Our baby, three months old and full of sleepy innocence, snuggled in Cece’s arms.Eve dabbed at her eyes when she thought no one saw, but we all did.
“Forever ain’t just a promise.It’s a patch.A vow.A whole damn way of life,” Prez started poetic.“Do you, Villain, take this woman to be your Ol’ Lady, your ride or die?”Kingpin’s grin stretched beneath his beard.
“Already do,” Villain rumbled, eyes locked on mine.
“And do you, Rachel, take this man, this outlaw, to be your forever?”
“I do.Even if he snores,” I added, making the crowd laugh.
When Kingpin said, “You may kiss your Ol’ Lady,” Villain didn’t just kiss me.
He claimed me.
His mouth crushed mine, one hand sliding around my back, the other on my ass, lifting me clean off the ground.The roar of the club, cheers, whistles, howls, was deafening.
