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H er tears. Those wrecked, soul-deep sobs. They’re breaking my stone cold heart.

My Angel’s trauma has ruled her for so long, and I’ve got no fucking doubt it’ll haunt her for years to come. But what we just shared was a massive hurdle for her to overcome, and despite how fucking profound it was, now it’s time for me to help her put all the shattered pieces back together.

Locking my arms tightly around her, I hold her against my chest as she sobs uncontrollably into the crook of my neck.

One of her favourite places on me .

“I-I’m s-sorry,” she stutters, her tears leaving a wet trail over my skin.

I don’t fucking care though. I’d drown in her tears if I knew it would take away her pain.

“No need to apologise, Angel.” I press my lips to her temple, my hands running up and down the cooling skin of her back.

Fuck, seeing her completely naked is something else too.

Not only did it confirm that she unequivocally trusts me, but the sight of her creamy skin, her plump tits, heavy yet impossibly perky, and the way her sensual, womanly curves so perfectly cradle the swell of her child within her pelvis… To me, she’s so fucking exotic. A rare diamond, shimmering like she was cut just for me.

Fuck.

I’m never letting her go.

“I-I d-don’t know w-what’s wrong with m-me.”

Giving her another squeeze, I lift her hips, easing my cock from her vice-like cunt and instantly feeling warm liquid ooze from her, onto my thighs.

I can’t help but inwardly grin.

I love having my cum leaking from her. I hope she doesn’t mind it, because I’m going to be filling her to the fucking brim every moment I can until I have to leave.

But now, she needs my attention. She needs to feel what being cared for is like.

“What we did was a lot, Abs,” I tell her, feeling her shuddering sobs increase. “I guess in a way it’s cathartic for you. The whole experience is likely similar to a sub drop, mixed with the trauma you’ve suffered.”

She slowly eases back, her tear-filled doe eyes piercing mine.

“W-what’s a sub d-drop?”

Using my thumbs, I try to dry away her tears, but more come, like a never ending waterfall .

“Well, it’s a term used in BDSM. In scenes between a Dominant and submissive.” I pause to press my lips to her temple. “It’s not unusual for the submissive to have an emotional break afterwards. After experiencing pain and restraint, the feel-good hormones that flood your brain can crash hard, and the drop can leave a submissive feeling drained… raw. Extremely emotional.”

I press my forehead to hers, my big hands cupping her cheeks as another sob escapes her.

“It’s a psychological response, Angel. And with everything you’ve been through, I’m not at all surprised.” I swipe at her tears with my thumbs again, her flushed cheeks warm under my touch. “But now comes the aftercare.”

Her face softens as I pull back despite the continuous salty drops.

“Is that the part where you clean up the mess you made between my legs?”

A grin splits across my face as I chuckle. “Yeah, Angel. That and a shower. Let me wash you and put you to bed.”

Biting her lip, she nods, her gaze darting to my mouth.

She wants a kiss.

Nothing on this Earth will stop me from giving her what she wants, so I lean in and press my lips to hers, feeling her melt into me.

Fuck.

She really is mine.

All fucking mine.

My wife.

My old lady.

My fucking property in the eyes of the underworld .

And that child growing in her womb? Well, if Abbey is mine then that little baby is too.

When we finally break apart, I lift her in my arms, ignoring my cooling seed running down my thighs, and take Abbey to my shower.

She cries for a few more minutes before the tears dry up and exhaustion has her knees buckling, so I hold her up, letting her lean into me.

I wash her. Every fucking delectable inch, including her hair, which turns the shampoo suds pinkish as more of the tint washes away leaving hints of her blonde strands showing through.

Once she’s clean and can barely stand any longer, I dry her and carry her to our bed.

Her naked skin presses warmth into my side as she curls into me, not even self conscious about the fact I didn’t dress her in one of my t-shirts.

She might feel differently about that come morning, but for now, she’s content, letting out a soft sigh as I pull her close to settle against my chest.

Then, she finally lets go, slipping into sleep.

For roughly an hour I remain awake listening to her even breathing. Loving the way she occasionally mutters incoherent words.

I’ve never heard that from her before. I’ve heard her thrashing in her sleep. Nightmares plaguing her. But never this.

I fucking love it.

My wedding celebrations still continue outside, my club brothers and Doxies making the most of why they are here, but eventually I manage to fall asleep too, far too comfortable with my wife in my arms to fight off what my body needs .

It’s the sound of my phone that wakes me hours later, sunshine streaming through the windows from my living area, lighting up part of my bedroom.

Abbey remains asleep as I roll over, using my free hand to snatch up my phone, reading the message that just came in from JD.

You’re needed in the barn, pronto. Smitty’s fucking words. Not mine.

I fucking groan.

The last thing I want to do is leave this bed and my woman to go deal with those fuckers. But I guess the sooner I get it over with, the sooner they’ll fuck off and give me some alone time with my new wife.

Leaving our marital bed feels like fucking torture. Just the thought of being away from my Abbey has me on the verge of going on a killing spree. But un-fucking-fortunatley, I’m still on duty until my club brothers leave, so I quietly slide my arm from under Abbey and slip from the bed, quickly getting dressed.

Stepping into the barn, I find my Prez, VP and JD standing around the bar, looking at Smitty’s phone screen.

“He’s coming now,” Smitty barks, clearly not fucking impressed with whoever he’s talking to on the video call.

“Who dares to call me from my fucking honeymoon?” I snap before I even know who’s on the call, and then want to fucking slap myself in the head when I see who it is.

Ewan Marx.

The head of the Marx Empire, and a man who doesn’t like to fuck around.

“So it’s true then? You actually married the girl who’s dragging all this trouble to my doorstep?”

I fucking hate this man.

“Ewan. Nice to see you,” I grit out, pissed no one gave me the heads up of who was on the fucking call. “And yes, I married the woman I care about. Let’s not forget she is the victim here, and it’s a corrupt cop that brought this to your doorstep. Not her.”

“Hmmm,” Ewan hums, unimpressed, his greying hair a little thinner than the last time I saw him.

“You’re right.” Leo, the oldest Marx sibling and heir to the empire steps into view. “This girl, Abbey Delaney—”

“Abbey Musgrove,” I correct him, and he nods.

“Of course, Abbey Musgrove. She is a victim. And while it’s unfortunate we’ve been dragged into this, we understand that Griffin and Devon are also assisting the Angel sisters regarding the situation,” Leo offers, all business, a replica of his father, only younger. “We ask that you keep that side of your business strictly between you, Griffin and Devon. They’re better equipped to handle it. And we’ll stay out of your way, as long as you deal with the police officer.” Leo glances down at a piece of paper. “Officer Ian Allen.”

“Too fucking right, we’ll deal with him,” Smitty interrupts, and I see Ewan’s jaw tick, like our very existence rubs him the wrong way.

What a pity he needs us for his operation to run smoothly.

“Any updates on the warehouse situation three weeks ago?” Ewan snaps, and it’s Spud, our VP that answers.

“Everything still points to Officer Allen.” Spud shrugs. “We’ve got nothing else to go on other than while our men were off the compound, Allen and his team showed up at the Western. They assaulted some of our men and women before making it real fucking clear who they were actually there for.”

“And that’s the girl, Abbey? Is that correct?” Leo asks and Smitty nods.

“Aye. It is.”

“Seems like too much of a coincidence to not be related.” Leo nods. “But what I’d like to know is when were you planning on telling us about Satan’s Rebels’ involvement?”

I swear, the fucking Earth stops spinning for a few beats.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Smitty snaps, practically shoulder-bumping me out of the way. “Satan’s Rebels aren’t fucking involved.”

Leo and Ewan share a fucking look, and I step back into frame so they can see me behind Smitty.

“Why the fuck do you think they are involved?” I demand.

“You mean besides the fact they stole from our warehouses last year?” Ewan’s face turns red as he snarls, like that was our fucking fault.

“Just because they are a rival MC, doesn’t mean they hit the warehouses last year because of us.” I point the fuck out. “Your warehouses had the biggest stockpile of PPE in the state. That’s what made them a fucking target. Not our involvement.”

Leo sighs, whispering something under his breath to his dad, before the old guy grunts and moves out of shot.

“Look, we figured you knew and were hiding it, but it’s clear you have no idea.” Leo pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a moment before continuing. “Riggs’ team found the initials, SR, scratched just under the door handles of each warehouse that went offline that day. It wasn’t picked up until later that night, but we assumed you knew about it, and were trying to cover it up.”

“Why the fuck would we cover up something like that?” JD snarls, his head snapping into frame, and Ewan steps back into view, his fucking scowl so deep it looks physically painful.

“I don’t fucking know. There are just too many fucking coincidences.” Leo waves a dismissive hand. “Just get this mess handled and quickly. Everyone has already suffered enough because of this fucking pandemic. Let’s clean shop and make sure we are all in a good position as the world reopens.”

We all nod, but Ewan just glares at the screen, and I can tell he’s pissed at his son for taking over the call.

When the call ends, Smitty starts swinging punches at thin fucking air.

“I fucking hate that arrogant cunt!” he yells, lashing out with a wild kick at nothing. “For fuck’s sake, Ringo! Have you got anything here I can fucking smash?!”

We all chuckle at our President.

“Nope, Prez. You might have to smash Celina’s cunt instead,” I tease, feeling anything but fucking happy right now.

Smitty grits his teeth and jabs a finger in my direction. “Good fucking point.”

Spinning on his heel, he storms from the barn, shouting for Celina.

“Jesus. Maybe someone should warn her?” JD mutters and Spud chuckles.

“Nah. She’s used to getting brutally railed by Smitty.” Spud smirks, turning his eyes to me. “You look well fucked.”

My fucking brows shoot up, and JD steps in beside Spud, nodding like the smug bastard he is .

“He’s right, man. Fuck. It’s a good look on you.”

I can’t fucking help it. I laugh.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Flipping them the bird, I walk around the bar and grab myself an energy drink from the fridge.

“What do you think? Was Leo right?” Turning back to eye my VP and my mate, I crack open my drink. “Were Satan’s Rebels involved in the warehouse killings?”

“Makes sense.” Spud shrugs one shoulder. “The pigs wouldn’t have done it themselves. They obviously hired help to hit the warehouses while they stepped foot onto our fucking compound.”

JD and I lock eyes.

Fuck.

It does make sense, which means, this isn’t fucking good.

Not for our club. And not for my Angel.

“Spread the word amongst the men. We need to be on the lookout for Satans as well as cops,” I tell Spud, and he gives me a nod. “So what’s the plan? When are you fuckers leaving?”

“We’ll hit the road in a couple of hours. Smitty has to be at the new property by mid-arvo to meet the first delivery of shipping containers. And I’ll lead the others up north. Get that bitch Wendy out of your hair.”

“Good fucking idea.” I nod before taking a swig of my drink.

With all the fucking lockdowns happening in the city and Metro Melbourne, moving our club out to regional Victoria is a strategic move. It gives us the space to run and expand our operations without Metro Police breathing down our fucking necks, and with regional restrictions not as severe, it will save us from having to endure continuous lockdowns .

The shipping containers will be turned into those tiny fucking homes, converting the acreage into our own little estate. At least until some fucker dobs us into council, and then we’ll need to worry about permits and shit, or who we need to threaten to keep living the way we want.

Some of those shipping containers will be buried underground, to help hide some of our less savoury business activities.

“How many men are you leaving here?” I ask, something which has been fucking bugging me. Especially now knowing Satan’s Rebels might be hunting us as well.

Since Smitty wants me on site at the new location most of the time, I’ve gotta man up and do my job. But I can’t take Abbey there. Not yet. Not until the new compound has somewhere safe for me to house her.

So for now, she’ll stay here with my ma and sisters.

It’s one thing for my club brothers and Doxies to slum it in tents, but there’s no fucking way I’m letting my pregnant wife sleep on the cold ground under a piece of fucking fabric.

“We can only spare four men. That gives you two on shift at all times,” Spud explains.

“Who?” I bark, and Spud raises an impatient brow.

“Tucker. Mule. Stoner and Brody.”

My fucking brows shoot up. “Tucker is old and fucking slow. And Brody should have been kicked by now.”

“Watch your fucking tone, brother,” Spud snarls. “We are leaving who we can. Half our fucking MC has to go north because of this bullshit. You get what you get, and when Smitty can spare the both of you, you can come here and fucking check in on your girl. ”

“Wife,” I bark and he rolls his eyes.

“ Wife .” He drags the word out, doing nothing but piss me off. “Besides, Jols will be here too.”

“What?” JD snaps this time. “Why will she be here?”

“Well, Prez has got it in his head that one of the club brothers is fucking her.” He glares pointedly at JD. “But he ain’t got a fucking clue who it is yet. So, he wants her here out of the way.”

I can’t fucking hide my smirk, so I turn away hoping Spud doesn’t see it, but JD picks up on it without any trouble.

“I guess that makes sense,” JD agrees, his brow creasing like he’s all for protecting the virtue of our President’s stepdaughter.

Spud laughs. “Yeah. Thought you might see it that way.”

Clapping JD on the shoulder, our VP chuckles all the way out of the barn, leaving me with my best mate.

“You really fucking her?” I ask him and he shakes his head.

“You really think she’d let me anywhere near her? I’ve been trying for years and get nothing but her sassy mouth.”

“Uh-huh,” I cluck, not believing a fucking word falling from his mouth and he waves me off.

“Fucking whatever. I need a slash.”

Shaking my head, I drop into a seat at the bar and finish my drink, firing off a message to Griffin and Devon Marx, basically telling them it’s time to meet to make a plan to catch and kill Abbey’s attackers.

All I get is a fucking thumbs up emoji.

Sighing, I stare at my phone not really seeing anything as what Spud said sinks in.

They are leaving me with a handful of men. Two of which aren’t up to fucking scratch. My surrounding neighbours are good at spotting people who shouldn’t be there, but they aren’t protection. Just eyes.

I have to hope my attempts at keeping this place under the radar will be enough. It’s over an hour drive to Fox Pines. And the same back to the city. Getting here quickly will be hard.

As my private sanctuary starts to stir with my hungover club brothers and Doxies, I help pack things up while my ma and sisters throw together a greasy breakfast for the crew.

At some point, my Angel appears, her fading pink hair pulled back, catching the light as she carries food outside. The moment our eyes meet, her cheeks flush, and I know she’s remembering our wedding night.

“Jesus. You two look more in love than you did yesterday.” Jols nudges my arm with her elbow, coming to stand next to me.

Normally, I’d tell her to piss off, but today, I’m feeling less fucking moody, so I nod.

“She hates me less than she did yesterday.”

Jols giggles. “Ringo, she hasn’t hated you for weeks.”

I don’t argue with her. She’s fucking right.

“Word is you’re staying here with her.” I glance down at Jols who blows out a breath and nods.

“Smitty is overstepping again. He’s not even my dad, yet he acts like it.”

This time, I nudge her with my arm. “Must be hard having people look out for you.”

She rolls her eyes. “If he had his way, he’d put a fucking chastity belt on me. I know he thinks he’s protecting me because of what happened, but it’s suffocating. I was considering going back to my mum’s for a while, but staying here seems more appealing. This place is paradise. I don’t know how you bring yourself to leave.”

“Duty calls, I guess.”

She nods soberly up at me. “But you have a wife now. Things are changing.”

“They sure fucking are.”

My eyes find Abbey again as she smiles at something my ma is saying, and then they hug like they’ve known each other for longer than a fucking day or two.

“I’m glad Lexi called you that night asking for your help.” Jols leans closer, flicking her blue gaze up to mine. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile the way you did yesterday. You two might be complete opposites, but she’s good for you, and well…” Jols flicks her gaze across the yard to my Angel. “You’re good for her, too.”

The smile she’s talking about makes another appearance as the warmth that filled my chest yesterday returns.

Happiness.

Who would have thought it would find me?

My moment of cheer is fucking short lived as my club brothers gather for a final session of church before everyone parts ways.

It’s short and sweet. One last confirmation of the club’s plans while we are split between locations, and a reminder that it’s strategic. With half the club building a new compound in Fox Pines, the other half bunking on the state border, it will help to ensure smoother operations.

The Marx crew will watch over the city warehouses, while they continue to investigate where exactly the stolen medical supplies went. It all sounds easy enough, but with the possibility of Satan’s Rebels having a hand in stealing from us and killing our men, I have a bad fucking feeling things are only gonna get worse.

After church, we all eat, which is the first time I get to chat with my wife since leaving my bedroom earlier this morning.

Abbey comes to me easily, letting me pull her into my lap, and snuggles into me like she was always meant to be there.

By the time the rumble of motorcycles is travelling away from my property, I’m fucking relieved. It’s hard to think straight with everyone here in my private fucking space.

Just as Spud stated, Tucker, Mule, Stoner and Brody remain behind with me and JD. As does Jols.

I spend a couple of hours with them going over what I expect from them, protecting Abbey, my sisters and my ma their number one fucking job. And even though looking JD’s little brother, Brody, in the eye still makes me want to punch the little fuck in the face, I manage to refrain.

For fucking now.

The day goes too fucking fast. I don’t get enough Angel time , what with walking the property line with my remaining club brothers and showing them where I have weapons stashed.

Ma turns in early, something that’s concerning me, but Millie assures me that she’s doing okay for now.

After a late dinner, we sit around the fire and reminisce about the chaotic wedding day yesterday. It’s still hard to believe that it happened, and even harder to believe my Angel went along with it. I can’t fucking hide my smile every time Abbey’s face lights up when she laughs, remembering the shenanigans that took place.

My sisters have finally warmed to her. I can see how much it means to my wife for them to accept her, and I don’t even get pissy when Millie and Lans gang up on me, spouting stories about how I used to torment them when we were little.

When the fire starts to die down, I figure I’ll throw more wood on it and then steal my wife away, hoping my sisters, JD and Jols will leave us alone for the rest of the night.

As they laugh at something JD and Brody are arguing about, I excuse myself to grab the wood to stoke the fire.

Rounding the side of the barn, the firelight fades behind me, swallowing me in shadows. I know this place well, not even needing a light to know the wood heap is only three more steps away, but as I take my next fucking step, I hear it.

The sharp unmistakable click of a gun cocking.

And a second later, the silhouette of the barrel is aimed straight in my face.