The conversation shifts naturally, moving from kids to men to the way the club functions when everyone is packed under one roof. I listen more than I talk at first, but it doesn’t feel like being left out. It feels like learning the rhythm of a language I’m already starting to understand.
Emma is grounding, the calm center when the conversation dips too close to something heavy.
Mac is steady and sharp, confidence wrapped around a heart that sees more than she says.
Kya’s warmth hides behind sarcasm, but it’s there in every glance she gives me, every joke she throws out to keep the room from staying too serious for too long.
Brooke is quieter, but when she speaks, it lands. Observant. Careful. Strong in a way that doesn’t need volume.
Raven’s humor is dry enough to cut glass, and Shaina matches it with a quiet strength that feels earned.
Bella is playful, bold, bright in a way that pokes at the darkness until it either backs up or gets laughed at.
Brynn still carries newness in the way she watches the room, but she belongs anyway. Allison and Ana move with the ease of women who have seen club life from enough angles to know that chaos is usually just another form of family.
Nobody treats me delicately. They don’t avoid hard words. They don’t flinch every time someone references danger or men being idiots or blood on clothes. And because they don’t act like I’m made of glass, I start to feel less like I am. That matters more than I know how to say.
At some point, Bella leans back on her hands and grins at me. “So, how’s life as Cobra’s old lady treating you?”
The room goes quiet for half a beat. Not tense. Expectant. I pause with my mug halfway to my mouth.
Old lady.
I’ve heard the words before, of course. Around the club. In passing. Attached to the others like it means something obvious and settled. But hearing it about me feels different. Permanent. Heavy. I lower my mug slowly. “Is that what I am?”
Mac’s smile softens. “Honey, Cobra claimed you the first night. Trust me, you’re not casual you’re an old lady.”
Kya snorts. “Casual and Cobra don’t even belong in the same sentence.”
“Unless the sentence is ‘Cobra casually threatened to murder someone for breathing too close,’” Raven says.
“That sounds about right,” Shaina murmurs.
Bella points at Raven. “Accurate.”
A laugh moves through the room, but I’m still holding onto the weight of it.
Old lady.
“Is it…” I search for the right word. “Official?”
Brooke answers this time, her voice gentle but honest. “In the club, yes.”
Emma nods. “It means protection. Family. Commitment.”
Mac leans forward slightly. “It’s not dating. It’s not temporary. When a brother claims a woman like that and she accepts it, she’s his old lady. The club recognizes it.”
“It’s basically marriage,” Kya says, then takes a sip of coffee. “Except with more weapons and worse communication skills.”
“That should be on a brochure,” Ana says.
I stare at them. Something in my chest turns over slowly. Marriage. Family. Permanent. The words should scare me. They don’t. Maybe they would have before. Maybe in my old life, if a man moved this fast, claimed this much, wrapped himself around my world this completely, I would have run. But Cobra isn’t a man who drifted in and asked me to trust pretty words.
He stood between me and monsters. He held me when I broke. He gave me choices when others tried to take every choice away. He is terrifying. He is possessive. He is impossible in ways that should make sense to no one. And I love him exactly as he is.
My fingers tighten around my mug. “So…” I look around the table, trying to lighten something that has suddenly become too emotional. “Which of you are actually married?”
Silence.
