Page 43 of Marked By Myth

“You’re the ex.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate,” I replied. “Might need to be a little more specific.”

“Where’s Roxana?”

“No one here by that name, mate,” Destroyer said. “Fuck off.”

I smirked at my enforcer. He was a brute. A no-nonsense ex-Bratva brute who took no prisoners. It was why he was so great at his job.

“Roxana!” he called out loudly. I could feel my fingers turning into my palms, my fists ready to pound some flesh if he woke my woman up. Fang stepped in his way again, blocking him from view.

This fucker was going to lose his life if he so much as tried to get close to Rox. Beck relaxed for a moment, and I knew she’d come out of the room. Her soft perfume wafted from behind me, as she rounded the bar and stood in the middle of the room.

“Beck…what are you doing here?”

Her voice was soft, timid almost, and it made me move my eyes toward her. She stood there, in a shirt, covering her tattoos, and a jacket. She didn’t look freshly fucked and that was a travesty in itself, but I knew I had pumped her full of me so that was something at least.

“What am I doing here?” he repeated, almost as if she’d slapped him. “What are you doing here? I told you I wouldn’t allow you to sully yourself again.”

Was this joker for real?

In my clubhouse? He insults my wife in my clubhouse?

“You best get to steppin’, mate. You don’t come in here and insult my ol’ lady like that.”

“Your ol’ lady?” Beck repeated again, incredulous. I raised my eyebrow at him as he got hot under his collar. The fucker had worn a sweater and slacks to a clubhouse in the middle of an Australian summer. He had to be sweating under those threads.

“Ah, I see…you’re claiming your old property, are you?” he sneered toward me. “Come on, Roxana, you’re done playing biker whore.”

I pushed her behind me, and the sound in the clubhouse was of every brother standing up, pushing their chairs back, as they rallied around us.

“What did you just say?” I found my voice level, even though I was furious. I had no idea how I hadn’t launched myself across the room and strangled the fucker yet.

“Adrian,” I heard my Rox say, pushing past me. “You knew this was going to happen. You knew I was leaving. There’s no point in denying it. I have to go.”

“No,” I said, without looking at her. “He needs to leave before he goes out in a body bag.”

“Please, let me talk to him at least.”

“Enough of this,” Beck said, moving past Fang and grabbing Rox by the wrist. The wince of pain on her face was momentary, but it was enough to send my blood into a boil.

Stepping forward, I grabbed his wrist, squeezing until his mouth opened in a wince and he let Rox’s arm go.

“You don’t come into my clubhouse and touch what’s mine.”

Beck looked into my eyes, and I saw it. The look of rage, the widened pupils. This fucker was higher than a kite. “She isn’t yours.”

“You sure about that?” I countered, blocking his sight of her, my hand squeezing harder on his wrist. I could feel his bones under my fingers. The urge to snap those bones was high.

“She’s my fiancée.”

“And she’s my wife,” I said. “I find it hard to believe your government would allow her to marry when she’s already legally married. Even if I were open to the idea of sharing my ol’ lady, which I’m not, you couldn’t handle the kind of relationship we have. So here’s your chance, fuckhead. Back out of this clubhouse, get in your car, and go home, before we send your ashes to whatever family you have over there.”

“Adrian,” Rox put her hand on my back, and instantly I felt a shudder of calm rush over me. That was the effect she had over me. I didn’t want to force her hand anymore. I wanted her to choose me. To choose us.

“You got a choice to make, Rox. You better make sure you make the right one.”

Rox