Page 101 of Rage

It’s as if a dam has broken.Reid tears through the clubhouse like a force of nature, upending tables and smashing anything within reach.The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air as he vents his rage and fear.

“Reid!”Mason shouts.

Reid’s rampage comes to an abrupt halt as Mason’s voice cuts through the chaos.He stands there panting, chest heaving, a broken bottle dangling from his bloodied hand.

“This isn’t helping Lily,” Mason says firmly, approaching Reid with cautious steps.“We need you focused, brother.Clearheaded.”

For a moment, it seems like Reid might lash out again as his whole body trembles with rage.

Mason crosses the room, crouching down next to his brother.He places a hand on Reid’s shoulder, squeezing gently.“We’ll find her,” he says, voice low and fierce.“Whatever it takes, we’ll bring her home.”

“God help those who dared to take what’s mine.”His voice drips with darkness.

I take a step back at the sound of it, goosebumps breaking out across my skin.

This is the moment Reid gets his road name.

Rampage.

* * *

My wedding day.

My heart races as I stand before the ornate oak door, waiting for my father to open it.The silky fabric of my wedding gown whispers against the floor, a symphony of lace and beading that took months to create.Intricate patterns of flowers and vines dance across the bodice, each crystal catching the light and throwing rainbow prisms across the walls.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the delicate scent of the white roses and baby’s breath woven into my cascading curls.The antique pearl hairpins, passed down through generations of brides in my family, feel cool against my scalp.My grandmother’s locket rests just above my heart, a tangible connection to those who came before.

Outside, I can hear the soft murmur of guests taking their seats, the rustle of programs, and the gentle strains of the string quartet.Butterflies dance in my stomach, a mixture of nerves and excitement.In just moments, I’ll walk down the aisle to become Mason’s wife.

Mason.My rock, my protector, my future.I close my eyes, picturing his face, those piercing blue eyes that see straight to my soul, the strong jaw softened by the smile he reserves just for me.My fingers brush over the delicate sapphire bracelet he gifted me this morning, a “something blue” that matches his eyes perfectly.

The door handle turns with agonizing slowness.I hold my breath, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my dress.This is it, the moment my father sees me as a bride for the first time.

The door swings open, revealing my dad in his meticulously pressed tuxedo.His eyes widen as he takes me in, glistening with unshed tears.For a heartbeat, we simply stare at each other, years of love and memories passing between us in silence.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice choked with emotion.“You look absolutely beautiful.”

I smile through my own tears, careful not to smudge my carefully applied makeup.“Daddy,” I breathe, reaching for his hand.

He enfolds me in a gentle hug, mindful of my dress and veil.As he pulls back, I see a lifetime of love and pride shining in his eyes.My father, who has been my constant support through every trial and triumph, now prepares to walk me into the next chapter of my life.

“Are you ready?”he asks softly, offering his arm.

I take one last deep breath, squaring my shoulders.With a nod and a radiant smile, I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow.“I’m ready,” I reply, my voice steady and sure.

Together, we step out into the sunlight, toward the man who holds my heart and the future that awaits us.

The day is finally here.I spent months with a wedding planner to make this day perfect for us.

The heavy wooden doors of the church swing open, flooding the dimly lit interior with golden afternoon sunlight.A hush falls over the gathered guests as all eyes turn toward me.The string quartet begins to play Pachelbel’s Canon, the familiar notes washing over me like a soothing balm.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the heady scent of lilies and roses that line the aisle.My father gives my hand a reassuring squeeze as we take our first steps forward.The polished marble floor gleams beneath my feet, my ivory satin heels clicking softly with each step.

As we make our way down the aisle, I drink in the breathtaking scene before me.Delicate chiffon drapes cascade from the vaulted ceiling, creating an ethereal canopy overhead.Twinkling fairy lights are woven throughout, casting a soft, romantic glow over everything.Each pew is adorned with lush floral arrangements, peonies, garden roses, and sprays of fragrant eucalyptus tied with flowing silk ribbons.

Our guests rise as we pass, their faces a blur of smiles and tears.I catch glimpses of familiar faces—my college roommate dabbing at her eyes, my grandmother beaming with pride, the club members looking uncharacteristically dapper in their suits.Even Harlan has traded his usual leather for a tuxedo, though his cut is draped carefully over the back of his chair.

My heart races as I search the altar for Mason.When I finally spot him, my breath catches in my throat.He stands tall and proud in his perfectly tailored black suit, the crisp white shirt a stark contrast against his tanned skin.His hair is neatly styled, though I can see the telltale signs of nervous fingers running through it.

---