ASHES ON THE HIGHWAY

Chapter 63

Sandra’s answer came faster than anyone expected, arriving at the compound just after dawn with the particular urgency of someone who’d found something considerably worse than ordinary criminal funding.

"It’s not outside money," she said, spreading printouts across the chapel table with visible tension. "It’s inside money. Reeves has been quietly siphoning funds from his own faction’s drug operation for the past six weeks, building a war chest specifically earmarked for what internal communications refer to as ’the wedding operation.’"

"They’re planning to hit the wedding directly," Ghost said grimly.

"Looks that way," Sandra confirmed. "I managed to access partial communications through a contact of Daniel’s still embedded with the splinter faction. They’re not planning a full assault—too many allied clubs will be present, too much visible security. But there’s chatter about a targeted strike. Something quieter, more personal, timed to happen during the ceremony itself when attention’s most divided."

"Targeted at who specifically?" Rowe asked, dread coiling tight in her stomach.

Sandra’s expression carried genuine reluctance before she answered.

"The communications mention ’the bride’ specifically. Multiple times."

The chapel went utterly silent.

"They want to kill me," Rowe said slowly, the words feeling strange and distant even as she spoke them, "at my own wedding."

"Or kidnap you," Sandra clarified, though the distinction offered little comfort. "The communications aren’t entirely clear on intent, just target. Reeves apparently believes striking directly at you personally would devastate Reaper’s leadership more effectively than any territorial assault, given how publicly your relationship’s been positioned as this family’s symbol of reconciliation and strength."

Reaper’s expression had gone rigid with barely controlled fury, the particular stillness Rowe had learned meant he was fighting his own instinct toward immediate, violent response.

"We cancel the public elements," he said finally. "Scale back to something private, compound-only, no allied club presence that gives them cover to blend in—"

"No."

Rowe surprised even herself with the force of her own conviction.

"We don’t let them dictate our wedding, Jax. We’ve spent three months refusing to let violence steal what we’re building. I’m not starting now."

"Rowan, if they’re specifically targeting you—"

"Then we prepare for that specifically," Rowe said, old steel entering her voice despite the fear still coiling beneath it. "Increased security around me directly, careful monitoring of anyone unfamiliar, whatever precautions actually make sense. But we don’t cancel. We don’t hide. That’s exactly what Reeves wants, isn’t it? To prove this family’s still vulnerable enough to be terrorized into retreat."

Reaper studied her for a long moment, old protective instinct warring visibly with genuine respect for her resolve.

"You’re not wrong," he admitted finally. "But I need you to understand something, Rowan. If we proceed with this wedding, knowing there’s a credible threat against you specifically, I am not giving you any freedom to take unnecessary risks. No more stepping in front of moving vehicles. No more solo confrontations. Whatever security measures we put in place, you follow them completely."

"Deal," Rowe said, though the word came with genuine effort given her own instinct toward action rather than passive protection.

The following days transformed into a careful balancing act—wedding preparations continuing on the surface while an entirely separate layer of tactical planning unfolded beneath it, coordinated between Reaper, Ghost, Viper, Daniel’s loyal contacts, and Detective Okafor’s department, who’d agreed to provide additional undercover presence given the credible threat against a private citizen.

"We need eyes on every guest as they arrive," Reaper said during the final security briefing, five days before the ceremony. "Facial recognition cross-referenced against known Reeves associates. Anyone unfamiliar gets discreetly verified before they’re allowed anywhere near the ceremony space."

"That’s going to be difficult with this many allied clubs attending," Viper warned. "Some of these guys we’ve never met personally, just know by reputation and vouching from other presidents."

"Then we lean on those vouches heavily," Reaper said. "Every attending club president personally confirms their own members’ identities before the day itself. No exceptions."

Daniel, present for the planning despite his own complicated history with the threat now gathering against them, spoke up with visible discomfort.

"I want to help directly," he said. "Not just intelligence gathering from a distance. Reeves used to answer to me, briefly. I know how he thinks, how he plans."

"You’d be putting yourself at risk," Reaper said. "If he’s specifically targeting this family now, and you’ve publicly aligned yourself with us—"

"I’m already at risk," Daniel said simply. "The moment I chose truth over the war I’d promised him, I became a target for whatever’s left of his loyalty to violence over reconciliation. I’d rather use that risk productively than just wait for it to arrive on my own doorstep instead."

Reaper considered this, old wariness warring with genuine gratitude for the offer.

"Alright," he said finally. "You’re on the security team. But you follow protocol same as everyone else, understood? No solo heroics, no unnecessary risks."

"Understood," Daniel said, something like relief crossing his features at being genuinely welcomed into the family’s defense rather than simply monitored from a cautious distance.

That night, Rowe found herself standing before her wedding dress once more, studying the ivory lace with considerably more complicated emotion than the pure joy she’d felt weeks earlier.

"You’re allowed to be scared," Piper said, finding her there and settling beside her with the easy familiarity months of shared survival had built between them. "Nobody expects you to just power through fear like it doesn’t exist."

"I keep thinking about what Elena said," Rowe admitted. "About not letting fear steal the joy we’ve earned. But it’s different when the fear has a specific target, a specific threat, instead of just general uncertainty about what might come."

"It’s different," Piper agreed. "But Rowan, look at everything this family’s survived to get here. Marcus, Frank, Lila, Coyote, even Cornelius’s decades-old trust reaching forward from the grave to control us. You’ve faced down every single threat this family’s history has thrown at you, and you’re still standing, still choosing joy despite every reason to retreat into fear instead."

"This feels different," Rowe repeated. "More personal, somehow."

"Maybe it is," Piper said. "But you’re not facing it alone. That’s the whole point of everything we’ve built these past three months, isn’t it? Not one person surviving alone anymore, but an entire family choosing to protect each other, together."

Rowe let herself absorb the comfort of that truth, drawing strength from months of hard-won trust and reconciliation that had transformed this fractured family into something genuinely worth protecting.

Five days remained until the wedding.

And whatever threat Reeves and his faction were still assembling, Rowe found herself determined, more fiercely than ever, to walk into that ceremony refusing to let one more act of violence steal the future she’d fought so desperately to build.

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