Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Later, when the night quieted and the crowd thinned, I stood with him under the string lights Savannah had a couple of prospects rig outside. My ring glinted, my property vest rested snug against me over my wedding dress, and my heart finally felt like it belonged somewhere. To someone.
I’d gone from hunted to home. From Carly Nolan to Lark Bishop. From hiding in shadows to standing in the open, hand in hand with the man who had claimed me without apology.
And I wouldn’t change a single thing.
EPILOGUE
JAX
The compound smelled like smoke and meat, the air thick with the kind of summer heat that stuck to your skin even when the sun started to sink. Bikes lined the fence in neat rows, chrome catching the orange light and throwing it back like fire. The yard was alive with noise—the low rumble of brothers swapping stories, sharp bursts of laughter when someone got the better of a jab, and the faint thud of a football being caught as it was tossed between prospects on the far side of the field.
I stood with Kane and Tyre by the grill, smoke curling around us, the tang of charcoal and grease biting the back of my throat. Kane manned the tongs like he was running a pit crew, flipping burgers with the same calm control he used when he gave orders. Tyre leaned against the table, beer sweating in his hand, eyes tracking the flames like he was thinking about tossing something bigger in just to watch it burn.
My eyes weren’t on the grill.
They were across the yard, locked on her.
Lark stood in the middle of a loose circle of women—including my sister, which was a sight I’d always hoped for and worried I’d never see—all laughing at something, their heads tipped together like conspirators. But she was the center of it, the glow in the middle of the storm. Our daughter, Isabella, sat perched on her hip, round cheeks pink from the heat, a tiny fist gripping the frames of my glasses. She smeared them up with fingerprints while Lark tried half-heartedly to pry them away. Every time Isa shoved the lenses back onto her face crooked, the women broke into fresh laughter.
That sound hit me deeper than the smell of smoke or the kick of a rifle in my hands.
Tyre followed my stare and smirked. “Thought you hated kids.”
I took a pull of my beer, not looking at him. “I hate your kids.”
Total bullshit since we both knew I’d been a sucker for kids since Alanna was born.
Kane’s low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Good thing he doesn’t have any.”
Tyre shot him a grin, green eyes gleaming. “Yeah, but the way the rest of you are breeding your women, you’re making up for the rest of us.”
Kane didn’t rise to the bait, just flipped a patty and said mildly, “That’s what happens when you actually enjoy going home at night.”
Tyre barked a laugh. “Fuck you.”
“Not my type.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t help the corner of my mouth twitching. Brothers. They gave each other hell, always had, always would. It was the glue under the patch. But even while they slung shit back and forth, Kane’s eyes flicked to Savannah every couple of seconds, same as mine went back to Lark. None of us missed what mattered.
My daughter squealed, high and sweet, waving my glasses around like she’d won something priceless. Lark tipped her head back to laugh, dark brown hair catching the last of the sun, her smile so bright it cut right through my chest. She looked up then, caught me staring, and everything else fell away.
Fuck. Even after two years, after nights tangled in sheets, mornings waking to her body pressed warm against mine, after watching her belly swell and then seeing her hold the life we’d made—she still wrecked me with one smile.
“Fucking hell,” Tyre muttered, watching me, then glancing at Kane, who was staring at his own wife. “You’re disgusting.”
“Shut up.” There wasn’t any heat in it. He’d understand one day.
Kane’s eyes cut toward me, steady, knowing. “Wouldn’t change a thing, would you?”
I thought about the years before her, the shadows and silence I’d lived in. Code and steel and blood. The weight of being the one who kept the machine steady while everyone else raced. Then I thought about her voice when she first whispered my name, the way she looked with my vest on her shoulders, the feel of our daughter’s tiny hand wrapping around my finger.
I met his gaze and murmured, “Not a fucking thing.”
Later, when the sun dipped low and the fireflies started to blink around the fence line, I crossed the yard. The women parted with smiles and teasing glances, and Lark turned into me easily, like she’d been waiting. I took the glasses from Isa’s sticky grip, shoved them into my pocket, then slid my arm around my wife’s waist and pulled her in.