Page 92 of Monk

I stepped behind her, my hands shaking as I held the cut open. She slipped her arms into the sleeves, and I pulled it up over her shoulders, settling it into place. The leather fit herperfectly. Like it had been made for her. Like she had always been meant to wear it.

I turned her around to face me, my hands cupping her face. “You’re mine now,” I said, my voice low and fierce. “In front of everyone. No more hiding. No more running. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

She smiled through her tears. “I’ve always been yours,” she whispered.

I kissed her. Hard. Possessive. Claiming her in front of the entire club.

The brothers erupted—shouting, clapping, whistling, stomping their feet as I picked her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, and kissed her deeper. She kissed me back just as fiercely, her hands in my hair, her body pressed against mine.

Sirens. The sound pierced the air—sharp, jarring, and merciless—cutting through the celebration like a blade. I jerked back from Lina, my heart slamming against my ribs as my head snapped toward the entrance. Red and blue lights flashed through the trees, painting the compound in frantic, unnatural color.

Instantly, the brothers went silent. Kansas stepped forward, his face darkening, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump. “What the fuck!” he barked, but his voice was nearly swallowed by the crunch of tires on gravel as three police cars rolled into the compound, their presence heavy and suffocating.

Doors flew open. Officers spilled out, hands hovering near their belts, eyes scanning the crowd. At the front, walking with a calm, deliberate menace, was Chief Sean Curran O’Rourke. He looked like a man who’d been waiting for this moment, his gaze cold and unblinking.

My stomach dropped, a sick, icy weight settling inside me.

No. Not now. Not fucking now.

O’Rourke’s gaze swept the crowd, lingering on every face before landing on Kansas. “Sorry about this, Kansas,” he said, almost apologetic, but there was no real regret in his eyes. Then he turned to me, his expression hardening, all business. “John Smith,” he called, his voice echoing across the silent yard, “you are under arrest for the assault and rape of Ruby Cooper.”

The words hit me like a freight train—violent, shattering, impossible to process.What? Assault? Rape?My mind reeled.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded, my voice rising, raw with disbelief and fury.

O’Rourke nodded to the officers flanking him. They moved in, hands on their belts, eyes locked on me. “You have the right to remain silent,” O’Rourke began, his tone flat and rehearsed.

“This is bullshit!” I roared, my hands balling into fists, rage and panic warring inside me.

Lina grabbed my arm, her eyes wide, wild with panic. “John.”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

“I didn’t fucking touch her!” I shouted, but the officers were already on me, grabbing my arms, yanking them behind my back. The cold bite of handcuffs snapped around my wrists, metal digging into my skin.

“John!” Lina screamed, her voice breaking, raw with terror.

Kansas surged forward, his face murderous. “O’Rourke, you son of a bitch!”

“Stay back, Kansas,” O’Rourke said, his voice calm, almost bored. “This is official police business.”

“This is a setup!” Kansas roared, his voice echoing off the clubhouse walls.

The officers dragged me toward the police cars. I twisted, desperate to see Lina. She stood frozen, hands pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. The cut I had just put on her back—the cut that said she was mine—still fresh, still new,and now I was being ripped away from her before it had even settled on her shoulders. “Lina!” I shouted, my voice hoarse with desperation.

She broke free, running toward me, but Kali caught her, holding her back. “Don’t say anything!” Lina screamed, her voice ragged and fierce. “Don’t say a word without me! Do you hear me, John? Not a fucking word!”

I nodded, chest tight, throat burning, as the officers shoved me into the back of the police car and slammed the door. Through the glass, I saw the entire club—brothers, ol’ ladies, family—frozen in shock, their faces pale and stunned.

Kansas was shouting at O’Rourke, fury etched in every line of his body.

Lina was sobbing in Kali’s arms, her whole body shaking.

Abigail stood near the fire pit, her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror.

And Shadow—he was staring at me through the window, his expression dark, dangerous, promising retribution.

The engine started. The car lurched forward, pulling me away from the compound, away from my family, away from the woman I had just claimed. I leaned my head back against the seat, closed my eyes, and let the weight of it all crush me.