Page 198 of Healed

So this is why everyone was in their riding gear.

My hair streamed out behind me as Vienna thundered down the motorway. My arms wrapped tightly around his waist, my hand pushed down the folds of his cut, resting over his steady heartbeat. Beneath my palm, I felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the occasional vibration of a laugh rumbling through his chest whenever one of the brothers blasted their horn behind us. It struck me then just how relaxed he felt. Every ride we’d ever shared had carried urgency, danger or secrecy. We’d always been racing towards something—or away from it.

Not today.

Today there was nowhere else we needed to be.

Rachel and Dante were slightly in front of us, leading the pack as the president and his old lady. The rest of the club was behind us, beeping their horns non-stop and hollering their praise.

The deafening rumble of dozens of engines echoed through the streets, drawing people’s attention wherever we went.

Shopkeepers stepped into their doorways to watch us pass. Children pointed excitedly from the pavement, waving as though we were some sort of parade, while a few people lifted their phones, filming the procession as we thundered through the city.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t hiding.

I wasn’t sneaking around back streets or stealing moments with Vienna behind closed doors. I wasn’t worried about who might recognise me or what punishment might follow if they did.

People could look.

They could stare all they wanted.

I was exactly where I wanted to be.

We went through almost every street of Leeds, staying in our formation, showing everyone that we had a new member. When I looked behind me, I saw Pivot and Darwin holding a sign up that said, “newly married,” which made everyone coo and aww as we passed them.

I laughed, squeezing Vienna even tighter. He covered my hand with his own for a second, his thumb brushing softly across my knuckles before revving his bike and picking up the speed. The simple touch said everything words couldn’t. He didn’t need to look back to know I was smiling.

Our speed climbed higher and higher, and ordinarily, I would have loved it.

But today?

Today I didn’t want to miss a single thing.

I wanted to remember every second.

The roar of the engines beneath us. The smell of petrol lingering in the air. The warm leather of my brand-new cut hugging my shoulders. The wind whipping around us. The way Vienna instinctively rested one hand over mine every chance he got, as though reminding himself that I really was there.

I cherished riding through the streets, clinging to his back with my own cut. I adored that people could see me with him—that I was free to be seen with him.

As we passed a row of shop windows, I caught our reflection for the briefest of moments.

There we were.

Vienna at the front of our bike, his cut stretched across his broad shoulders.

Me behind him, wearing colours that finally belonged to me.

For a split second, I barely recognised the woman looking back.

She looked happy.

Dante even directed us through Rider territory, letting everyone know that I was now claimed.

The atmosphere changed almost instantly.

People stopped talking as we rode through. Curtains twitched. Faces appeared in upstairs windows before disappearing again just as quickly. A handful of Riders stood outside one of the buildings, watching us pass in complete silence. Nobody moved. Nobody challenged us. They simply watched as the Devils Disciples rolled straight through their territory with me proudly sitting behind Vienna.

The Rider feud wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. They’d come back with a new president and strike again. And we’d be ready for them.