Page 5 of Reclaiming Venom

“You really don’t remember?” Ridley asked, her voice cracking slightly.

I shook my head, my throat tight. “No. I’m sorry, but… you’re a stranger to me. At least, this adult version of you.”

The pain that flashed across her face was visceral, but she quickly masked it with a determined smile. “I’m not giving up on us, Venom. Not now, not ever.”

I stared at Ridley, my mind a maelstrom of disbelief and frustration. The woman before me was undeniably beautiful, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, eyes filled with a mixture of hope and worry. But all I could see was the ghost of a teenage girl, Bull’s daughter, superimposed over this stranger who claimed to be my wife. Even though she hadn’t been back to the clubhouse since she was a small child, he'd shown me pictures, ones he’d received over the years. I might not remember much about my past, but I did recall how proud he was every time he got one of those pictures. He’d show them to everyone, bragging on his daughter.

“You were just a kid,” I muttered, more to myself than to her. “How the hell did we…”

Ridley’s lips quirked into a sad smile. “We didn’t exactly plan it. And trust me, my dad was far from pleased about it. It just… happened. You fought it at first, you know. Thought you were too old, too rough around the edges. Then Torch called me into Church, and I claimed you in front of all your brothers. You were amused by it.”

As she spoke, I found myself hanging on her every word, desperate for any shred of connection to the life she described.

“You saved me, you know? My stepdad was trying to sell me off to some man called Montoya. You made sure he could never get his hands on me or hurt anyone else ever again.”

Something stirred in the depths of my mind -- not a memory, exactly, but a feeling. In my gut, I knew she was right. I’d killed the man she spoke of. Then again, I’d killed quite a few men over the years -- the years I remembered. I doubted getting married had changed me that much.

“Sounds like something I’d do,” I admitted grudgingly, my fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch her, to see if it would spark any recognition.

Ridley’s face lit up at my words, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the vibrant, outgoing woman she must be when not weighed down by this impossible situation.

“Our lives weren’t a fairy tale exactly, but we were happy. I loved you, and I knew you loved me. Even when the club was in chaos, even when things got tough, you were my rock.”

I listened, torn between the evidence of a life well-lived and the vast emptiness where those memories should have been. Part of me wanted to believe her, to accept this reality where I’d found love and built a family. But the skeptical, hardened part of my nature -- the part that had kept me alive through decades in an MC -- couldn’t quite let go.

“I want to believe you,” I said finally, my voice rough. “But it’s like you’re talking about someone else. I can’t… I can’t feel any of it.”

Ridley nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears once more. I seemed to be doing a great job at making her cry. “I know. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

As I looked at her, really looked at her, I felt a flicker of something. Not memory, not recognition, but… intrigue. A spark of curiosity about the life we’d supposedly built, the love we’d shared. And despite my reservations, I found myself wanting to know more.

The silence that fell between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ridley’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of years I couldn’t remember. I watched her, this woman who claimed to be my wife, as she fidgeted with the edge of her leather cut. And that’s when it hit me.

“Turn around,” I said.

Her eyes widened a moment, and she stood, then turned so I could see her back. There, for all the world to see,Property of Venom.

My throat tightened as I struggled to find words, any words, to bridge the chasm between us. The beeping of the heart monitor seemed to grow louder in the stillness, a stark reminder of how close I’d come to oblivion.

Ridley’s gaze met mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. She lifted her hand, then froze, as if she were going to reach for me. I wondered how hard it was for her to hold herself back like that. The distance between us felt both insurmountable and paper-thin.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Ridley finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Why don’t I help you piece together the missing years? And it doesn’t have to be today. We have all the time in the world.”

I looked around the room. “Clearly not if I was injured bad enough to end up here.”

She swallowed hard. “Um, about the shooting… It was someone you knew.”

“Excuse me?”

She licked her lips. “Someone from the Dixie Reapers’ past called Tinker showed up. Apparently, everyone had thought the man died. You were shot and nearly died during a confrontation with him.”

Holy shit. Tinker hadn’t been dead? Now I really felt like I was missing huge chunks of my memory. What else had happened over all the missing years?

I studied her face, noting the determination etched in the lines around her eyes, the vulnerability in the slight tremble of her lower lip. This vibrant woman, so different from the playful girl I remembered, was offering to be my guide through the fog of my own mind.

“And if I never remember?” The question slipped out before I could stop it, harsh and abrupt.

Ridley flinched, but her gaze remained steady. “Then, maybe we can start over,” she said softly.

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