I set the phone down and stared at the box again. Three simple words that meant everything. He loved me. I loved him. So why was I still hesitating?
Fear. Not just the old fear—the memory of walking into his office over a year ago and having my world destroyed in an instant—but new fear too. The knowledge of what his world really involved. Gun running. A rival MC who’d taken photos of me, who’d threatened to use me as leverage.
But Jacob had proven something during that crisis. When forced to choose between club business and honesty with me, he’d chosen me. That wasn’t the man who’d betrayed me. That was someone new.
I opened the box and lifted out both cuts, laying them side by side on my kitchen table.
The past versus the future.
Crystal in the parking lot came to mind—trying to use my past pain against me. How Jacob had stepped back and let me handle it, trusting me to fight my own battles. The way his brothers had looked at me afterward—not with pity or dismissal, but with respect.
The crisis that followed. His first instinct had been to protect me through secrecy, and I’d called him on it. I’d set a boundary, demanded space, watched him struggle between the club and his promise to me.
The night he’d brought me dinner and sat quietly while I worked, supporting me without trying to control me. How he remembered I hated onions and brought me coffee the way I liked it and asked about my campaigns like they mattered to him.
The man who’d wired sixty thousand dollars to a hospital for my father’s surgery without hesitation or conditions. Who’d called every day during that crisis not to insert himself into the situation, but to check if I or my family needed anything.
I picked up the new cut and held it up to my chest in front of the hallway mirror.
It looked right. It felt right.
More than that, it felt like a choice I was making from strength rather than fear.
I slipped it on over my white blouse, adjusting the leather until it sat perfectly across my shoulders.
In the mirror, I looked like a woman who belonged exactly where she was.
Grabbing my keys and purse, I headed for the door. It was time to surprise the man I loved.
The Venom Riders clubhouse parking lot was busier than I expected. I was scanning for a spot when something caught my eye—a small, elegant sign next to the space marked “PREZ.”
“INDIRA.”
He’d had a parking space made for me. Not “First Lady” or “Dutch’s Old Lady” - just my name, acknowledging that I had a place here in my own right.
I walked through the front door and into the main room, where several brothers were scattered around playing pool and nursing beers. The conversation died the moment they saw me.
More specifically, the moment they saw what I was wearing.
“Holy shit,” I heard Handful whisper. “Is that...?”
“Dutch’s cut,” Holden finished, his voice filled with something that might have been awe.
I straightened my shoulders and walked further into the room, feeling every eye on me. “Where is he?”
“Office,” Glitch said, not taking his eyes off the cut. “Indira, does he know you’re...?”
“No. It’s a surprise.”
The brothers murmured their approval, and I heard someone call out, “Welcome to the family.”
I smiled, feeling the weight of acceptance settle around me like the leather on my shoulders.
I made my way through the room toward the back hallway, aware of the whispered conversations starting up behind me.
Dutch’s office door was open, and I could see him bent over paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up as I approached, and his face broke into a smile.
“Hey, beautiful. I thought you were making dinner.”
