One Hundred and Thirty-Six Scars(94)

He drops his donut into the box, placing the box into his side bag. “She’s what?”

I scoff. “Leave her alone, Hella.”

“Did you see me going out and finding a replacement for her?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Hannibal adds. “You’ve fucked how many women since she left our hands.”

“So?” Hella exclaims. “Did I wife them? Get all cozy and shit with them? Fuck that,” he says and a chuckle leaves my mouth. I knew this day was coming. “Oh, but she gonna learn today,” he adds, swinging his leg over his bike and removing his cap before placing his helmet on.

I whistle out. “Hey! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

He kick starts his gloss candy apple red Harley that reads ‘Hellraiser’ across the body, flicking me a smirk. “To Westbeach.” Before he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

“Fuck!” I growl, looking at Hannibal. “Go with him and make sure he doesn’t make a mess for me. I don’t need Sinful Souls riding my ass.”

He nods, swinging his leg over his bike and riding out.

Walking into our house, I close the door behind me and switch on a couple lights. “Meadow?” I call out.

“In here,” she answers from the kitchen. Walking in, I smile at the sight in front of me. Meadow walking around the kitchen with an apron on that reads ‘Queen’ on the front. Alaina bought it for her for our house warming. Apparently she wears an identical one, it’s a rite of passage for the president’s Old Lady. Not as traditional as what I’ve got in my bag, though.

“Hey, baby.” She beams at me, a smile spread across her face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was glowing.

Pulling her into me, I run my lips over hers softly, pulling her lip into my mouth before letting her go.

“What’s in the bag?” she points down to the brown paper bag that I’m clutching in my hand.

“Oh, this?” I smirk. “This is your patch.”

Her eyes widen in shock. “Pardon?”

I laugh, handing her the bag and taking a piece of chicken out of the frying pan and placing it in my mouth before sucking the sauce off my fingers slowly, I watch her eyes get lost in the gesture.

Smirking, I repeat myself. “It’s your property patch, baby. You don’t have to wear it every time you’re at the clubhouse—although I’d prefer it—but mainly when we have a lot of different chapters over or people from different clubs. This is how they recognize that you’re mine. You’re safe once they know who you belong to, but there’s a space in between where they won’t know until maybe it’s too late. Wearing this patch…” I pull out the small little black vest that will probably sit around her belly button and be tight as fuck, “…will execute that possibility.”

Her mouth hangs open as she zones in on the tiny piece of leather in my hand.

I point to the front. “The front has our patch logo that sits on the top left side, over your heart.” I flip it around to show the back and her eyes water. “The back,” I whisper. “Has who you belong to.” The top arches and says ‘Property of’ and the bottom curves up reading ‘Beast’ but in the middle of those, is a red rose that sits there brightly with the devil himself coating the rose protectively. “Baby?” I whisper, her eyes still not moving from the piece. “The devil is me. I’ve got you from here on out until you don’t need me anymore. And even if you get sick of me? I’m not going anywhere.”

A tear drop forms in her eye and a sob escapes her lips. I haven’t heard nor seen her cry since those nights all those years ago and my heart shatters at the sight of it. Dropping the patch, I pull her into me roughly. “Shit, fuck. I’m sorry, baby. I thought you were ready for it. Fuck. I’m sorry, I’ll throw it away, you don’t need to wear shit, I’ll just get a photo of you blown up and plastered on the clubhouse wall with the words ‘my woman’ over it. I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair and hold her. Holding her tightly like I wanted to all those nights that I would hear her cry. All the nights she gained another scar and I wasn’t there to protect her. I hold her for that.

She pulls away from me with a smile, wiping the tears from her eyes. “No, please. I’m not crying because of that, Beast. I’m crying because I love you, and I love that patch, and I love being yours. I love that you’re protecting my apple, but most of all…” she says, wiping the tears that have fallen again and my eyebrows draw together my heart twisting. “Most of all, I love that you can love me.” She picks up the patch, bringing it to her cheeks and resting her face on it. “I thought I was pregnant,” she says casually, almost too casually.