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O h my God, he’s really going to kill her!

“Wait! Ringo!” I cry, bolting after him and trying to ignore the fact that I’m not wearing any panties beneath this satin gown.

Hurrying around the corner he just disappeared behind, I catch sight of him storming past Ace, who’s still on the deck, now with a table set up and some papers spread out.

Oh my… was Ace there this whole time? Did he hear us? Hear me?

“Hey, wait up, Ringo. You’ve gotta sign the marriage papers,” Ace calls, and Ringo grinds to a stop before stalking to him.

“Where?”

By the time I reach them, Ringo’s already scrawling his name along the dotted line. Literally.

“Oh good. Abbey. You need to sign, too. ”

I nod, but my gaze is glued to Ringo as he finishes signing and slams the pen down on the table before storming off again.

Eyes wide, I glance at Ace, who looks apologetic, and I’m not sure if it’s for Ringo’s outburst or for having to interrupt his furious club brother.

“Uh… just sign here, please.” He points to the papers, so I quickly snatch up the pen, scribble my name, and toss it down before hurrying after my husband.

Oh wow.

I have a husband.

A husband that is angrier than I’ve ever seen him.

“Wendy!” he bellows, storming across the yard towards the barn, where the thick crowd mingles, and soulful music plays quietly in the background.

All eyes swing to him as he barrels through, then snap to me as I rush after him, probably looking like a hot mess as I try to run in these strappy heels, and a satin gown while holding my damn boobs, because I couldn’t wear a bra with this dress.

“What’s going on?” JD hurries to Ringo’s side, while Jols beelines for me.

“Wendy is what fucking happened,” Ringo hisses, loud enough for everyone to hear, and just like that, a heavy silence falls over the crowd.

“Oh shit,” Jols whispers, taking my arm to slow me down. “Babe. You don’t want to see this.”

“What?” I squeak, my panic spiking now even more certain my husband is about to kill Wendy. “No. You have to stop him.”

Sympathy washes over Jols’ features as she looks at me, so I shove her off, charging for Ringo, pushing through the crowd in a blind panic, desperate to reach him before it’s too late .

“Why would you say those things to Abbey?!” Ringo’s voice booms, loud and menacing, as I shove through the closing-in crowd. I burst into the barn to find him towering over Wendy, his face inches from hers as she flinches back. Smitty and Spud lounge nearby, unfazed, like this behaviour is just a typical day in club life.

“I didn’t say anything to her!” Wendy cries, arching so far back in her chair that she looks like she’s about to snap in half.

“One thing I do know,” Ringo growls, “is my wife is not a fucking liar. And you’ve been caught out in more lies than I can fucking count. So tell me why the fuck I shouldn’t kill you right now!?”

“You don’t have the balls,” Wendy sneers, and just like that, Ringo’s hand snaps around her throat.

Behind me, Jols mutters a curse under her breath, but none of the men move a muscle.

Hell, even Smitty is too preoccupied picking something out of his teeth as he pats his dog.

“Cameron!” I snap, the name coming out louder than I meant it to, but it does the trick, and Ringo’s wild gaze whips to me. “She’s not worth it.”

“You don’t think she should die for feeding you those lies?” he growls, and I shake my head.

“She’s jealous. And pathetic. But my guess is she’s hurt because she’s had her eye on you for so long and you haven’t given her the time of day. So she may be a liar, but she doesn’t deserve to die for it.”

Taking a step closer, I reach out and snake my fingers around his wrist, tugging gently, urging him to release Wendy’s neck, and he does .

She gasps, her face flushed, eyes leaking tears, and even though she’s been nothing but a bitch to me, I feel a flicker of pity for her.

She just wants to be loved.

I know what that’s like.

“I want her gone,” Ringo snaps, turning to his President, who shrugs, like he doesn’t care either way, before addressing Spud.

“You can take the bitch with you up north. See if you can find her an old man so she stops being a cunt.”

Spud chuckles. “Sure thing, Prez.”

“Does that appease my Sergeant-at-Arms?” Smitty asks, smug as hell, and I have the urge to slap him.

“As long as I don’t have to see the bitch again, then yes,” Ringo glares at his President, his fists balled in anger.

“Then consider it done. Now stop fucking whining and let’s celebrate your nuptials. Let’s get fucked up!”

The crowd erupts in cheers.

Everyone but me and Ringo.

And I guess Wendy too, but as far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t exist.

As the tension eases, I realise my heart is still thrashing in my chest, each beat sharp and uneven, leaving me short of breath.

“You okay?” Lani’s voice cuts through the haze, her concerned eyes suddenly in front of me, blocking my view of my husband.

I nod, pressing a shaky hand to my chest.

“I kind of wish I could drink wine right now. I need something to calm me down.”

“I know the perfect thing to calm you down.” Lani waggles her brows just as Millie steps up beside us .

“What are you cooking up, Lans?”

“All this drama has Abbey on edge, so I think it’s time for the first dance.”

“Uh… how is that going to calm me down?” I ask, my gaze darting across the crowd of leather-clad bikers filling the room and spilling out the open barn doors.

“His neck,” Alana states flatly, and at Millie’s cringe, I can’t help but giggle. “I know. I know. It’s kinda gross, but apparently, you two have something going on. And before you say it’s just about my brother protecting you, save your breath. Cam has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”

“Unfortunately, I have to agree,” Millie admits, catching me off guard.

Wait. What? I thought she hated me.

“Never thought I’d see the day Cam would fall hopelessly in love, but here we are.” Millie shrugs and it takes me a second to catch up.

“He doesn’t love me,” I blurt, but they each hook an arm through mine, leading me back towards Ringo, who’s deep in conversation with JD.

“If that’s not love, then I’d hate to see him when he is in love.” Millie smirks, curling her lips as Alana nods in agreement.

“I don’t think I can handle that.”

I open my mouth to protest again, but before I can spit out a word, Millie casually kicks the back of Ringo’s boot, and he whirls around, rage contorting his expression, until he sees me.

Then, like magic, it falls away as if it were never there.

“What are you two doing with my wife?”

“Looking after her, which is something you should be doing, since she’s your wife,” Millie deadpans .

“All the drama made her nervous, so now you need to fix that,” Lani explains as they both release my arms and nudge me into him.

Without hesitation, Ringo slips his arm around my waist, tugging me into his side.

“You okay, Angel?”

“She’ll be better once you have your first dance,” Alana explains and Ringo’s brows shoot high.

I bet he wasn’t expecting his sister to say that.

Biting down on my lip, I only just manage to stop myself from laughing as Ringo asks his next question.

“Why will dancing with me make her feel better?”

“Besides the fact it’ll be hilarious watching you try to dance, big brother,” Millie teases before Alana finishes her thought.

“She needs to smell you.”

Heat explodes across my cheeks, my gaze dropping to the floor the moment Ringo’s gaze snaps to mine.

He doesn’t say anything. Just stares.

I can’t bear to look up at him as his sisters giggle.

Before I realise what’s happening, I’m swept up in his arms, a squeak flying from my lips as he cradles me to his chest.

“Take a whiff, Angel. I’m all yours.”

Alana and Millie burst into laughter, and Ringo’s club brothers nearby start cheering before Ringo calls out to JD.

“JD, be the DJ, will ya? It’s time for me to have my first dance with my wife.”

Hoots and hollers erupt around us as Ringo carries me to the centre of the room, where only last night there were tables and chairs filling the space. The same table he laid me out on and… instantly my cheeks bloom at the memory .

“Are we really doing this?” I whisper, trying and failing to bite back a smile, and he looks down at me, a smirk kicking up his lips.

“I married you, so yeah, we’re fucking doing this.”

My heart flips in my chest at the fire in his eyes.

Is he actually excited about this?

The dance? The wedding?

Both, maybe?

Lowering me onto my feet in the centre of the room, I feel too many eyes on us, but I don’t look at anyone but Ringo. My husband.

The moment music blasts through the speakers, everyone cheers, and Ringo chuckles, his smile broad as he takes in his family watching on.

It’s not just his sisters and mother. It’s the club members as well.

All of them watching… waiting.

It doesn’t take long for me to recognise the song, and I can barely contain my smile as Ringo pulls me in, sliding one hand around to rest on my lower back, and the other lifting mine as he stares into my eyes.

“Really? Aerosmith ?” I giggle, and he nods, proud as hell.

“Club tradition, Angel.”

I snort another laugh, mainly at the obvious generation gap there is between us and our taste of music, and then, just as Steven Tyler’s voice spills through the speakers, Ringo starts to sing along.

It’s low. Raspy. And just for me.

And I melt.

I barely register all the eyes on us as we sway together, like our bodies already know this rhythm.

This man.

His voice.

Only for me.

Is this a dream?

Is this really happening?

Is the most lethal man I’ve ever laid eyes on seriously singing the lyrics to ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ to me as we dance, surrounded by his club and family?

A tidal wave of emotion hits me hard, my eyes stinging, tears threatening to fall, but somehow, I hold them back.

I desperately want to deny my feelings for this man, because if I let myself fall… if I let myself love him… My heart will never survive when he walks away.

I’ve been trying so hard to fight it. To keep it buried deep. But right now, as he tugs me a little closer like he can’t stand even an inch between us, I know I’m already losing.

Maybe, I never stood a chance.

“I could stay lost in the moment,” he sings, “forever.”

My bottom lip starts to wobble, so I bite the damn thing, not wanting him to see how weak I am when it comes to him.

“Where a moment spent with you,” he leans closer, pressing his forehead to mine as he sings, “is a moment I treasure.”

Suddenly, the whole room erupts, belting the chorus, the sound loud, wild… and perfect.

A laugh bursts from me, even as a few tears escape, my gaze taking in the bikers surrounding us, all of them holding up their beers, yelling the lyrics with zero shame .

Ringo spins us suddenly, and more laughter spills from me as his playful side kicks in.

Before I know it, Doxies and Southern Sadists are joining us on the makeshift dance floor, the chaos electric around us, yet all I can focus on is him.

Dropping my hand, Ringo pulls me in close, so tight I can feel exactly what kind of effect this moment is having on him.

He’s hard. And he’s not even trying to hide it.

“Do you feel better now, Angel?”

I nod, my gaze slipping to his lips, catching the satisfied grin that tugs at them.

“I’m sorry for scaring you before.” He leans in close to my ear, voice low. “That shit with Wendy… well, it makes me fucking wild.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” I relax into him, letting his arms completely claim me.

It’s a mix of hard and soft. Like the brutal beast of a man is still right here in this room, but his gentleness is just for me.

And God… that does something to me.

“I’ll fuck up anyone that tries to hurt you, physically or emotionally, Angel. I don’t care who they are.”

My brows lift. “What if it’s your ma?”

He grins. “My ma would never treat you badly. No matter what. She’s got a golden heart.”

I open my mouth to give him another example, but he silences me by pressing his lips to mine.

The sound around us fades away, muffled, like we’re trapped in a bubble. Just me and him. Nothing else. No one else.

He deepens the kiss, and my stomach flutters, but it’s not from my heart or butterflies .

It’s my baby.

A sob lurches up my throat, but Ringo swallows it, squeezing me closer like he wants to crawl under my skin and stay there.

Do you like him, little corn?

Do you feel safe around Cameron?

Do you feel how much he cares?

He or she can feel him. I just know it.

Breaking the kiss, Ringo pulls back just enough to swipe his thumbs across my cheeks, and that’s when I realise. I’m actually crying.

“I got you, Abs,” he rasps, his whiskey eyes locked onto mine, so intense that I want to look away… but I can’t.

“Must be my hormones,” I lie, and he lets out a soft, knowing chuckle.

“Yeah. Must be.”

Then, like the universe knows we need a breather, the smell of food hits us. We glance around to see the Doxies carrying trays of food, being bossed around by Ringo’s mum as she tells them exactly where to put everything.

“Come on, Angel. It’s time for me to feed my wife.”

My heart flips again at hearing him call me his wife, and it does something to me.

I want to question my reaction, since I’ve been so against marriage. Against the whole idea of being someone’s wife. Someone’s property.

But things feel different now. With Ringo, everything is different.

The way he looks after me, the way he sees me. It’s the kind of care I’ve craved for longer than I want to admit .

Maybe I just need to stop overthinking everything and just be in these moments with him.

We spend the next couple of hours eating and chatting, Ringo never once letting me out of his reach.

He keeps me seated at his side, tugging my chair so close we’re practically one person. Always touching by the brush of our thighs, or our hands, or his arm curled around my back.

There are no speeches like the weddings in movies. No cheesy toasts or dramatic declarations. It’s just a big, loud, slightly unhinged party, and honestly, I’m okay with that.

As the day rolls on, the Southern Sadists and Doxies overindulge in their drinks, getting rowdier by the minute.

I’m quietly grateful that Millie took their mum back to the house earlier, because the energy is shifting, and there’s some not so savory activities starting up that are definitely not mother-approved.

“What are they doing?” I ask, now perched on Ringo’s knee, pointing across the room to a group of men, sitting around a table, their laughter louder than any others.

“Oh, the prospects are playing Russian Shot Roulette,” JD answers casually, like that’s supposed to mean something to me, and Ringo chuckles, seeing the confusion written across my face.

“You know the gist of normal Russian Roulette, right?” JD asks, and I nod.

“A gun. One bullet. Right?”

He nods back. “Well, Russian Shot Roulette has six shot glasses, and six prospects. Each glass has something different. Only one actually has alcohol. ”

“What’s in the other glasses?” I glance at Ringo and catch his smirk.

“You don’t want to know.” Ringo chuckles, and I whip my head back towards the group of guys.

“Stop treating her so precious.” Jols rolls her eyes at Ringo, and then tells me what he wouldn’t. “One is a fireball shot, which isn’t so bad. One is a Worcestershire and wasabi mix. One is castor oil with chocolate syrup. One is unflushed dunny water. One is raw egg with hot sauce and vodka. And then one is a lucky dip.”

By the time she finishes, my mouth is hanging open.

“What’s in the lucky dip?”

“Not exactly sure, but given what I saw earlier,” Jols cringes, “I think the last one will have a prospect walking around with a boner for a fucking week.”

My brows hitch into my hairline. “Viagra is in it?”

“A lucky dip is usually laced with some sort of drug that will fuck you up in one way or another,” Jols explains, and I shoot panicked eyes to Ringo, but he looks completely unfazed.

“They do this kind of shit to the prospects all the time,” he mutters with a shrug.

“And you’re not concerned about your brother?” I ask JD, but he shakes his head, totally chill.

“I just hope the horny fucker doesn’t get the Viagra one. I’ll be locking up the goats if he does,” JD snickers to Ringo, who grins in return.

I make the mistake of watching the prospects downing the first shot, and a jet of vomit erupts from one prospect’s mouth like a fountain, splashing across the table, before another one hurls too .

I gag.

“Okay. That’s enough of that.” Ringo stands abruptly, dragging me out of the barn.

My stomach churns as I try to shake off what I just witnessed, and I hear JD and Jols behind us, howling with laughter at whatever fresh hell just unfolded.

Outside, the sun has dropped lower in the sky, casting a golden haze over the yard, its beauty totally wasted on the craziness happening out here with more of the club brothers getting up to no good.

A couple of motorcycles roar to life before two guys line them up side by side, their engines like a rumble of thunder.

“Fucking hell,” Ringo mutters, coming to stand with Stocky, Murf, and Trunk. “If someone dies on my property, I’m not digging the fucking grave.”

“Why would they die?” I ask, feeling like I’m missing something, but then I see two other men put blindfolds on each rider, before climbing on the back of each motorcycle, and Ringo just gestures to the unfolding madness.

“You’re about to find out.”

The next thing I know, the bikes tear off down the driveway, zigzagging like lunatics as the blindfolded riders try to steer blind, the men on the back yelling directions over the roar of the engines.

I gasp, slapping a hand to my chest as one of the bikes loses control, skidding across the gravel before tipping onto the grass with a thud.

The yard erupts in cheers and hoots, while I’m nothing but shocked, and at best a little amused at their craziness .

When I glance at Ringo, he’s not watching the chaos. He’s watching me, one side of his mouth kicking up as he shrugs.

“Alcohol makes them dumb.”

I burst out laughing, doubling over at the unfiltered madness of it all, yet knowing I love every second.

Well, except maybe the vomiting part. I didn’t like that.

Ringo’s deep laugh joins mine, and we fall into each other, breathless and leaning on one another as we both try to compose ourselves, and I realise, we’ve never had such a shared lighthearted moment.

“Ringo, man. I’m all set up,” a tall lanky looking biker calls from behind us, and Ringo nods over his shoulder.

“Thanks Vender. We’ll be in in a sec.”

Nothing about this day so far has been predictable, so curiosity instantly sparks me, and I open my mouth to ask, but Ringo beats me to it.

“It’s time to get our ink.”

“Our ink?” I blink, turning my gaze to the tall man walking away.

“Come on. I’ll show you.”

Taking my hand, Ringo weaves us through the crowd, heading back into the barn, but this time, Ringo gives the chaos across the far side of the room a wide berth.

Heading down a passage and into a brightly lit room, I see some sort of instrument I’m not familiar with.

“I’ll go first,” Ringo states, guiding me gently to a nearby chair before taking the one next to it.

He slides off his wedding band, shooting me a wicked wink, and places his hand flat on the table. The other guy, Vender, sits across from him and picks up the instrument before a buzzing hum fills the air, making me flinch.

Ringo squeezes my hand with his free one, steady, solid and reassuring, and I watch as he gets my name tattooed around his finger, where the ring would normally sit.

Oh .

“So you’ll always be there, even if the ring isn’t,” Ringo rasps softly, our eyes meeting for a flicker of a moment, and I swear, I can feel my heart swelling in my chest.

It takes no time at all, and once it’s done, Ringo shows me my name etched permanently into his skin, and my heart races with something unfamiliar.

Mine.

That’s what my brain is saying.

He’s mine.

“I have hypoallergenic ink for you, Abbey,” Vender states, snapping me out of my Ringo daze as he adjusts something on the table while Ringo leans back in his seat. “It’s safer while you’re pregnant. I’ll just do it light, and once you’ve had your baby and finish breastfeeding, we can touch it up properly so it doesn’t fade too fast.”

I nod, blinking in surprise. I didn’t even know that was a thing.

I’m nervous as hell. I’ve never thought about getting a tattoo before, and no one asked me if I wanted this. But there’s something about having Ringo’s name on me permanently that has me tugging the wedding band off and shifting forward to give Vendor my hand.

It’s over quickly. It stung a little, and I have to wear my ring on my other hand while it heals, but the whole experience is cathartic, and I find myself smirking as Ringo leads me back out to the party.

My mum would hate everything about today.

Maybe that’s why I’ve secretly loved every minute of it.

As far as wedding celebrations go, I’ve really enjoyed myself. Way more than I expected, and even though I felt like this was just another thing being forced on me this morning, now, it feels like the most right thing I’ve done since deciding to keep my baby.

More food is served as the sun goes down, and this time, we eat with Ringo’s mum on the porch as she shares embarrassing stories about Ringo as a young boy. She even promises to get his baby albums out tomorrow, and I’m actually excited to see Cam as a little boy, full of mischief and dreaming big.

With the stars now in the sky, and Ringo’s mum safely back inside away from the shenanigans, there’s more dancing, drinking and wild games, which almost always guarantees someone will get hurt.

The Russian Shot Roulette lucky dip winner wasn’t Brody. Thank goodness. But judging by the young prospect passed out on the sofa across the room with a very upright hard-on tenting his pants, I’m going to guess he’s the one that won it.

“Whiskey blood oath,” Murf murmurs as he sets a tray of shots on the table, and Stocky slaps a sharp knife down on the table in front of Ringo.

“Ahhh, what’s a whiskey blood oath?” I ask, eyeing the blade with concern, but one look at Ringo’s warm smile, and my panic instantly lessens.

“It’s a toast to the groom with his closest buddies,” JD grins proudly, and Ringo chuckles at seeing my confusion .

“Come on. Let’s get this done. I’m about ready to consummate my marriage.”

The guys around the table hoot, as you guessed it… my cheeks heat, and Jols grins, her eyes falling to her lap where she’s texting someone on her phone.

Then, one by one, Ringo, JD, Murf, Trunk, and Stocky, each pick up the knife, slice a bloody line across their palms, then squeeze their fists, letting a drop of blood fall into each shot glass.

I watch, wide eyed as the whiskey swirls with the blood like something straight out of a cult ritual, and before I can even process what’s happening, they lift the glasses and chant, “Til death do us part.”

They shoot them back, and the moment they slam the empty glasses back on the table, Ringo stands, fire in his eyes as he holds out his hand to me.

“Come on, wife. Let’s get to the fun part of the night.”