Page 8 of Dagger

He steps closer, his voice steady but laced with a warning. “If Tank gets wind of this, he’ll kill you. And you know he will. Chloe’s like a little sister to him, and Sophie’s already got him wrapped around her finger. You think he’ll let you anywhere near Chloe after everything she’s been through? Not a chance.”

I glance back toward Chloe, her smile tugging at something deep in my chest. She’s completely unaware of the storm brewing around her, of the line I’ve apparently already crossed just by looking.

“I’m not gonna do anything,” I say finally, though the words feel heavier than they should.

“You better not,” Mason replies, his voice steely. “She’s off-limits. Period. I don’t care what’s in your head or your heart, Dagger. If you cross that line, I’ll bury you myself—and that’s if Tank doesn’t get to you first.”

His words hang in the air, sharp and unyielding. He claps a hand on my shoulder, but it’s more of a warning than a gesture of support.

“Get your head straight,” he says before walking off, leaving me standing there with a hollow feeling in my chest.

I glance back at Chloe one last time. She deserves so much more than anything I could ever give her. Mason’s right. Tank’s right. I need to stay away from her—for her sake, and for my own damn survival.

THREE

CHLOE

A year later

I stareat my reflection in the mirror, tugging at the curve-hugging emerald green fabric of my bridesmaid dress. Damn, I clean up nice. Who would've thought this broken girl could be standing here, in the Iron Reapers clubhouse, about to watch her best friend walk down the aisle?

My hands tremble slightly as I adjust the sweetheart neckline. Nerves and excitement swirl in my stomach like oil and water. Sophie's getting hitched today. My guardian angel who got me through the toughest years of my life. I blink back the sting of tears. We've both come so damn far.

Snatching my bouquet of red roses and baby's breath, I stride to the door and yank it open.

The hallway pulses with energy - a whirlwind of leather and lace. Brothers and their old ladies scurry about in their wedding finest. Loud laughter and raunchy jokes bounce off the walls, mingling with the steady thump of bass from the sound system. I inhale deeply, the scent of whiskey, cigarettes and Sophie's favorite vanilla candles filling my lungs.

I stroll down the hallway, my heels clicking on the scuffed hardwood. A brother passes by and wolf-whistles at me. I roll my eyes but can't suppress my smile. A year ago that would have sent me spinning, now I know it isn’t meant to be anything but a compliment.

I round the corner into the main room and halt, drinking it all in. Twinkling fairy lights cast a magical glow over everything. Delicate tulle and satin ribbons drape the walls, softening the harsh edges. Who knew Perdition could clean up so good?

And there, in the center of it all, stands my girl. Sophie. A vision in white, her dress flaring out from her tiny waist like a bell of fresh cream. Butter yellow rosebuds peek out from her wild tangle of curls. She's biting her plump bottom lip, eyes round and shining with unshed tears as she looks around in wonder.

In this moment, she's not that broken woman anymore. She's a phoenix, risen from the ashes. Strong. Powerful. Incandescent. And I'll be damned if I let anyone clip her wings ever again.

I weave my way through the bustling room, dodging patches and leather cuts, until I reach Sophie's side. She turns to me, her face alight with joy and nerves.

"Chloe," she breathes, clasping my hands tight. "I can't believe this is really happening."

"Believe it, babe." I tuck a stray curl behind her ear, cupping her face gently. "You deserve every bit of this happiness. Tank is head over heels for you."

Sophie ducks her head, pink staining her cheeks. "I love him so much it scares me sometimes," she whispers. "Is it crazy to be this happy after everything?"

"Crazy? Nah. It's a damn miracle." I pull her in close, mindful of the delicate dress, and just breathe her in. Girly and sweet like honeysuckle. "You fought like hell to get here. Both of you. This is your reward."

Sniffling, Sophie squeezes me back fiercely before pulling away. She swipes at her misty eyes, careful not to smudge the mascara we so painstakingly applied. "No crying yet! I promised Tank I'd make it down the aisle without turning into a total mess."

“Good luck with that." Carlie pops up beside us, grinning impishly. "I give it two minutes tops before the waterworks start."

"Such a softie, our Sophie," Jenny chimes in, bumping her hip against Sophie's playfully.

Sophie huffs out a laugh, flipping them both off. "Screw you guys. I'm a motherfucking bad ass biker bride."

Carlie throws an arm around Sophie's shoulders, careful not to mess up her veil. "In all seriousness though, honey, you look absolutely stunning. Tank’s eyeballs are gonna fall right outta his head when he sees you coming down that aisle."

Sophie preens under the compliment, standing a little taller, blue eyes sparkling. "Ya think?"

Jenny nods. "That man won't know what hit him."

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