Claimed by my Brother’s Best Friends

Alyssa

"Congratulations, Alyssa. I hope you and Isaac are very happy together," Mom says as she pulls me into a tight embrace.

"Thanks, Mom." I return the hug, firm yet gentle, afraid that if I let her go too soon, she might fall. She's too sick to be standing this long, but she's always been strong—stubborn to a fault. She'd never let anyone here see how unwell she really is.

When I finally release her, Gray, my ever-watchful brother, steps in, taking her arm to help her into a chair.

"Grayson, I can seat myself," she protests, a teasing defiance in her eyes as she throws him a mock glare.

He smiles warmly. "I know you can, Mom," he murmurs, planting a kiss to her forehead before turning to me. His expression darkens slightly. "If your husband ever hurts you, I'll shove my foot so far up his ass he’ll taste it."

By the tone in his voice, I know he means every word.

But he doesn’t need to worry about that.

I laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "No need to be so scary, big brother. Isaac would never hurt me. He loves me too much," I say with confidence, my heart swelling with affection for my high school sweetheart turned husband.

Despite the challenges we've faced, I know he’s my soulmate. He’s proven his love for me over and over again.

When he asked me to marry him at Senior Prom, I was the happiest woman alive. And now, here we are, husband and wife.

I've officially claimed the title—Mrs. Isaac Carter.

As the time to leave for our honeymoon in Cancun approaches, I say goodbye to our guests. Most of MoonShadow Creek showed up, but honestly, I only cared that my mom, Gray, and my two best friends, Chelsea and Ashley, were here.

"Have a great time!" Chelsea says, squeezing me tightly. She always smells sweet, like berries. I assume it’s whatever shampoo she uses to keep her blonde hair looking so perfect, but it could just be her personality—vibrant, sugary, effortlessly bright.

I hug Ashley next, her hazelnut skin glowing beneath the bright lights. "Make sure you send me some pics. I need to get a boo before next summer so we can go on a group vacation," she quips, her excitement contagious.

"Will do," I promise with a laugh, already looking forward to sharing the memories of our honeymoon with my best friends.

Seeing that Isaac is still saying goodbye to his parents, I step outside for a moment of solitude, inhaling the cool night air. The stars twinkle above, casting a magical glow over what has been a perfect wedding day.

I lean against Isaac’s car, taking it all in.

Then, movement in my peripheral catches my attention. A girl stumbles out from behind the bushes, hurriedly smoothing down her dress and fixing her hair.

"Hey, Alyssa," she says breathlessly, cheeks flushed, before rushing back into the house.

A second later, a guy follows—lazily zipping up his slacks.

King Sterling.

One of my brother's three best friends.

He’s tall, built like a brawler, with dark, unruly curls that fall to his shoulders and a medium beard framing his sharp jaw. A scar cuts across his left eye, a reminder of the violence he thrives in. His amber eyes—piercing, predatory—have a way of sending even the bravest men running.

And the fact that he’s in a motorcycle gang? Just the icing on the cake.

When his gaze locks onto mine, a slow smirk stretches across his face.

I grimace. "You couldn't have taken her home first?" I ask, making no effort to hide the disgust in my tone.

Seriously, why does he have to screw people in the bushes at my damn wedding?

"That's no fun. Besides, I would've missed the hilarious look on your face right now," he teases, his deep, gravelly voice laced with amusement.

He steps closer, leaning casually against the car before taking a slow drag of his cigarette.

"Want a puff?" he asks, holding it out to me.

I cough and wave it away. "No, that's disgusting," I retort. "You shouldn't be smoking those things anyway. You're gonna end up with cancer, dumbass."

King exhales a cloud of smoke, then chuckles, low and rough. The sound sends an involuntary shiver down my spine.

"Always holier than thou,” he muses. “Tell me, Alyssa…has he popped your cherry yet, or are you still ripe for the taking?"

Heat floods my cheeks. My embarrassment only makes his smirk widen.

"N-No,” I stammer. “I know you wouldn’t know anything about that, but Isaac’s actually a gentleman and he wanted to wait until we were married first.”

King tilts his head, his smirk turning downright wicked. “Well, isn’t he Mr. Prince Charming?” His voice drips with mockery. “When he can’t get you off with his little dick, I give you permission to fantasize about me instead.”

"Thanks, but no thanks. That would only make me throw up," I snap back.

He, Nikolai, and Mason have been an unwanted part of my life since I was twelve. Unbeknownst to my brother, his best friends have spent years tormenting me behind his back.

But high school? That was the worst.

I was a freshman, and they were seniors, always towering over me, always finding any possible opportunity to make my life hell.

The only reason they’re here now is because Gray insisted. According to him, they’re family and deserve to be treated as such.

But I hate them. All of them.

King just grins at my reaction, clearly enjoying himself. "When shit doesn't work out between you and Isaac, just know you can call me anytime.”

I glare at him, my anger flaring. "Why wouldn't things work out? I love my husband, and he loves me."

The rest, we can figure out as we go.

King takes another puff, exhaling slowly. "I don't know. Something's just off about him. But if Gray approves, I guess we should too."

I snort. "Says the violent man in a motorcycle gang. If anyone's off, it's you."

King is the kind of man who gets off on bloodshed. Beating someone's ass or cutting out an eyeball with a switchblade is his idea of a good time.

In Gray's gang—The Crimson Reapers—King is known as the Enforcer. I'm pretty sure he has more bodies than a serial killer, but since they keep our small town safe, nobody dares to say a word about the crimes they commit.

King just chuckles. "Nah, Kitten, I'm violent because I have to be. Your pathetic-ass husband seeks out trouble.”

What the hell does that mean? I wonder, but I decide to leave it alone. This is my wedding night, and I won't let him, or anyone else, ruin it.

"What's wrong, Kitten? Am I getting you riled up?" he taunts.

I turn away, willing myself to stay calm.

He knows I hate that fucking nickname, but he hasn't stopped using it since he realized it got under my skin.

"I told you to stop calling me that," I mutter.

"And I told you that I’d never stop calling you that."

I grind my teeth, irritation burning in my chest. "You're such a dick. Why is that my nickname anyway?"

He shrugs. "Because you always have your claws out, but when it's time to scratch and bite, you're practically harmless."

A bitter laugh bubbles from my lips. "Fuck you. I could claw your damn eyes if I wanted to."

"Sure, you can, Kitten.” His smirk widens. "But just in case those claws don't sink deep enough…you can always call on me, Niko, and Mace if you're in trouble."

Why does he keep saying that?

I don't need them. I never have. Not even when my dad was murdered. I’ve always had my own back, wiped my own tears—and that won’t ever change.

No matter what.

Before I can snap at him again, a new voice cuts in.

"He's right, Sweet Girl. You can call us if you ever need us," Nikolai says, emerging from the house. Mason follows close behind.

Oh, great. All three dumbasses are here.

Alyssa

Niko isn't as big of an asshole as King, but he still makes it his mission to piss me off. He's a little smaller and less muscular than King, with spiky, dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.

Mason, on the other hand, is of medium height with a slender frame. He's a redhead with tapered hair, green eyes, and thick-rimmed glasses. Out of the three, he’s probably the chillest, never wanting to get his hands dirty. But just because he’s associated with them, it’s only fair that I hate him too.

I roll my eyes. "Fantastic, just what I needed—the full set of my brother's annoying-ass friends."

Niko chuckles. "So mean for no reason, Alyssa. We're just looking out for you, sis."

"If you were looking out for me, you wouldn't be tormenting me all the damn time," I retort, crossing my arms as I glare at them.

King takes another drag of his cigarette, his intense stare never leaving me. "It's our way of showing affection, Kitten. You know you love it."

No. I. Don't.

Niko throws an arm over my shoulder, and I stiffen at the unwelcome contact. "Like I said, I'm good. Nobody needs to worry about me, especially Gray. Isaac is my husband. He will take care of me.”

"Are you ready to go, Alyssa?"

Isaac's voice cuts through the tension as he strides across the lawn toward us. Relief washes over me. Finally, he's here to rescue me from my tormentors.

His gaze shifts between the three men surrounding me, a shadow crossing his face when he notices Niko's arm casually draped over my shoulder.

"What are you guys doing out here with my wife? Get your fucking hands off her!"

His voice is loud and humiliating, drawing the attention of the few remaining guests outside.

I quickly create distance between me and the boys, rushing over to Isaac and placing a calming hand on his chest. "It's okay, Isaac. They were just saying goodbye," I whisper, hoping to diffuse the situation before it escalates further.

I can already tell he's had too much to drink. His breath reeks of alcohol, and his eyes have that hard, unfocused look.

Fuck.

He’s going to start a fight.

"Do you want my friends and family to think you're a whore?” Isaac snarls. "Get in the fucking car before you embarrass me more!”

Shame washes over me, thick and suffocating, even though I know I did nothing wrong. My heart sinks, and a lump forms in my throat.

I don’t want to fight on our wedding night. I just want to go back to the happiness we were having minutes ago.

"But what about everyone seeing us off?" I ask in a tiny voice, my eyes flickering back to my mother’s house where our guests are still celebrating.

"I'm too pissed off for that. We're leaving. Now.” His tone is sharp, leaving no room for argument.

He grabs my arm, his fingers digging painfully into my skin, and I wince.

It's okay, he's just drunk. This isn't my Isaac, I tell myself.

But when I glance up at King, Niko, and Mason, their expressions have darkened—tensed into something deadly.

King’s perpetual smirk is gone, replaced by a look that could kill. Even Mason, usually unbothered, has a jagged edge to his posture. Niko steps forward, his eyes flashing.

"Alyssa, I don't think we’re okay letting you leave with him,” Niko says. “For him to think it's okay to speak to you that way…I think King and I should break his goddamn jaw."

Oh, no.

"Who the fuck are you to tell my wife who she can't leave with? Stay in your goddamn place, freak," Isaac seethes, yanking me towards the car.

"Be careful how you fucking speak to him," King warns.

Isaac snorts. “Or what?”

Okay. The alcohol has clearly given him a false sense of confidence.

Too damn much of it.

With King alone, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

King takes a step forward, towering over my husband like a shadow of death. At 6’2” and pure muscle, he makes Isaac look like a scrawny child.

And I hate to say that about my own husband.

"Or I'll have you eating out of a tube for the next six months.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.

I quickly step between them, pressing a hand against Isaac’s chest. “Isaac, please stop. Not on our wedding night,” I beg, tears welling in my eyes.

The tension is palpable, thickening the once-peaceful air around us.

Is he really going to keep pushing this? Does he not realize that if my brother comes outside and sees this, he’ll join them in beating his ass?

Isaac's face twists in rage and humiliation. "Are you really taking their side right now?" he yells.

"She's actually trying to stop you from getting your ass beat, dude," Mace finally speaks, irritation flaring in his usually calm voice. His forest green eyes burn with restrained anger.

"I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her!" Isaac roars, redirecting his fury toward me.

I don’t flinch. Instead, I lock eyes with him, desperate to reach the man I know is somewhere hidden beneath this raging monster.

"Please, can we just go?" My voice trembles, betraying my fear.

His nostrils flare as he glares down at me. "Fine. But I don't want to ever see you near these assholes again. Understood?"

I nod quickly, eager to calm him before he spirals further out of control.

This reminds me of the Championship football game our junior year, where he got into a huge fight with the other team's captain. But this time, the stakes are higher.

King and Niko will kill him, while Mason watches.

The last thing I want today is to watch my husband die right in front of me.

"Let's go," I murmur, pulling Isaac towards the car.

I don’t look back, but I can feel their eyes burning into me as I slide into the passenger seat.

Even when we drive off, Isaac speeding recklessly through the streets, I keep my head down, staring at my trembling hands.

The silence in the car is suffocating, heavy with unspoken rage and tension.

At a stoplight, I finally look up—just in time to see Isaac’s hand collide with my cheek.

The sharp sting makes me gasp.

"Don't ever do something like that again!” he snarls in my face. “You made me look weak out there. I could've taken those fuckers easily.”

A quiet, desperate sob escapes me.

He...hit me.

He actually hit me. And on our wedding night.

I consider jumping right out of the car. But then, the scene replays in my head.

It was my fault.

I know how possessive Isaac can be. I shouldn't have been out there with my brother's friends, even if it was unintentional. The moment I saw King, I should've gone back inside.

"I-I'm sorry, Isaac," I whisper.

"You should be," he answers calmly, his breathing steadying. "I didn't mean to hit you, but if we're going to make this marriage work, you have to stop making me angry, okay?"

I nod, my cheek throbbing. "Okay."

I mean…I want to make our marriage work.

My father was a dangerous man, but my mom was still happy. Still in love. That’s what I want.

A happy marriage.

I pushed Isaac over the edge tonight. But from now on, I'll do better—I’ll be more careful. Then, everything will be okay.

Isaac extends his hand, and even though my face still stings, I place mine in his. His grip is firm, possessive.

"I love you," he murmurs.

"I love you too," I respond, forcing a smile.

But little did I know his kind of love would break me bit by bit until there was nothing left.