Chapter 72
Chapter 72
IRIS
I grabbed Ryker’s hand and followed him back to the house. I didn't enjoy the way Deacon looked at me when I said what I said, but someone must get this information. I knew Ryker and his father weren’t close. They don't speak. Of course I noticed that. I just don't understand how getting information on the leader of the crew who kidnapped me, tried to kill me, continue to try to kill all of us isn't important enough to put that shit aside. I walked in the front door and pulled Ryker to me. “I just needed to be close to you Daddy.” He pulled me in and kissed me hard, passionately. “Oh Babygirl, I love you so much.” His words warmed my heart. “I love you too.” I pulled away from him holding each of his hands in mine. I looked up at him, smiling as sweetly as I could, and told him the truth. I know Deacon thought I was trying to manipulate him, I wasn’t, not really. I needed to get him out of there so I could talk to him by myself. Show him my vulnerabilities, my fears. I didn’t want to show a building full of men. “I am going to have Deacon take me to talk to your father in the morning.” He dropped my hands. “No, the fuck, you are not.”
He turned from me and walked to the bar. “Yes, I am.” I said simply, without raising my voice. “Iris, you are not going to see my father. I forbid it. Deacon works for me. They all fucking do. I will not allow them to take you.” He forbids it? After what I have been through. “Are you kidding? That man may know something about the man who leads the group that tried to kill me, and you FORBID IT.” This time I raised my voice. Ryker’s body stiffened as he gripped the edge of the bar, the silence stretching taut between us, laced with his unspoken rage and my unyielding resolve. The air in the room felt charged, as though the very walls were bracing for the storm about to erupt. “You don’t understand what you’re asking, Iris,” he finally said, his voice low but trembling with suppressed fury, his back still turned to me. “I understand perfectly,” I shot back, stepping closer, my pulse pounding with a mix of defiance and frustration. “You think I’m weak, that confronting him will break me, but I’m not asking for permission. I’m telling you what I need to do—for us, for this fight.” He turned then, his eyes blazing with a fire that both terrified and compelled me, his jaw tight with the weight of his unspoken fears. “It’s not about weakness, Babygirl,” he growled, his voice dropping to a near whisper, raw with emotion. “It’s about protection—my protection of you. That man destroys everything he touches. I don't want him anywhere near you.” For a moment, the ferocity in his expression softened, the vulnerability beneath it cutting through his anger like a blade. “But you can’t protect me from everything,” I countered, my voice steady but laced with the quiet desperation I could no longer hide. “I have to help, Ryker. You taught me that strength isn’t just in fighting battles; it’s in confronting the fears that haunt us. This is my battle too and I need to be a part of it, whether you’re ready for me to or not.” His shoulders sagged slightly, the fight in him wavering as the weight of my words sank in, and for a fleeting moment, I thought he might relent. But then his gaze hardened, a final wall of resistance rising between us. “If you insist on doing this, Iris, you’ll be doing it without my support,” he said coldly, the sharpness of his words cutting through me like a blade. The room seemed to close in around us, the chasm between our convictions widening, and yet, somewhere amid the tension, I felt the fragile thread of our bond holding firm, even as it strained under the pressure of our opposing wills.
As I stood there, the weight of his cold words pressing against my chest, I realized that our fight wasn’t just against the shadows looming outside—it was a battle within ourselves, a test of our ability to trust, endure, and rise above the fractures threatening to pull us apart. The air in the room grew heavier, charged with unspoken bitterness and the quiet hum of determination lingering beneath it all. My decision didn’t waver, though the ache in my heart was undeniable; I was prepared to face the storm on my own if necessary. Yet, even in the silence that followed his declaration, I could sense the flicker of something deeper between us—layers of pain, love, and unyielding protection that couldn’t be erased by a moment of fury. I turned toward the window, letting the faint light of the day filter over me, grounding myself for the path ahead, knowing it would be far from easy. Somewhere in the distance, the world called out with challenges yet to unfold, and I promised myself—no matter the cost—I would navigate its darkness without losing the strength I had fought so hard to claim.
I stood there, looking out over the yard. Looking towards the heavily secured gate. He kept me so safe, I knew that was what he was doing when it came to his father. I turned and glanced back at him. He was sitting there, sipping his whiskey, texting angrily. “Who are you texting?” He looked up at me, his eyes still angry. “I am telling Beck and Andrew to arrange a team to take us to my father’s office tomorrow.” His voice was deep, dark, and angry. He didn't like that I put him in this position. He didn’t like that I stood up to him in this way. I didn’t care. I would submit to him, in every way he wanted me to, except this one. I won't sit back and be weak and a liability. I will fight my own battles and defend myself. I walked slowly over to him and grabbed his face. “Thank you, Daddy.” My voice soft and sensual. “It’s not going to work Babygirl.” I leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Please punish me, Daddy!”