He squeezed once, then stood. “Good. Then we start with food and sleep.”
She snorted—a ghost of humor breaking through exhaustion. “You feeding me, or is that an order, President?”
“Little of both,” he said, and she didn’t argue.
Outside, the morning light pushed its way through the rain, thin gold slicing across the floorboards. The air smelled like coffee and smoke and something new, something that might, if they were lucky, turn into peace.
For the first time in a long damn while, Tater let himself believe in that.
CHAPTER 24
The Breath After Fire
When sleep finally took her, it wasn’t deep.
It came in flashes—fire, rain, the sound of Shadow’s voice fading into thunder. Every time she drifted, the dragon stirred, restless beneath her ribs, as if unsure whether to stand guard or let her rest.
By the time she woke, the light outside the window was low and warm, stretching long shadows across the clubhouse walls. Someone—Tater, she figured—had thrown a blanket over her. The smell of coffee lingered, faintly mixed with leather and oil.
For a while, she just lay there, listening to the low murmur of voices outside. The Bastards talking in the yard, laughter breaking through every now and then. Normal sounds. Human sounds. It felt wrong and right all at once.
Ren’s body ached like it belonged to someone else. Every muscle was a bruise; every breath tugged at the stitches under her ribs. But the pain was clean. Real. Not the kind that haunted you.
The dragon was quiet now. Not gone—never gone—but settled.
“You survived;”it murmured.
“I did more than that,” she whispered back.
Ren pushed the blanket aside, her feet hit the cool floorboards. Her boots were gone—probably drying somewhere near the door. Her cut hung over the chair beside her, scorched at one edge but still whole.
She ran a hand over the patch. Royal Bastards MC. It used to just mean survival. Now it meant something else. Belonging.
Outside the window, the world looked washed clean. The trees shone with leftover rain, the dirt road a streak of silver in the fading light.
For the first time since the fire that made her, she didn’t feel hunted.
The door creaked behind her, soft.
Tater leaned against the frame, hair damp, shirt clinging to his shoulders. He didn’t say anything, just watched her for a second, eyes steady, like he was making sure she was really there.
“You look better sitting up,” he said finally.
“Feel worse.”
“That’s how I know you’re alive.”
Ren smiled a little. It hurt. It was worth it.
He stepped inside, something easy in his movements now. Set a mug on the table beside her. Steam curled up between them.
“Eagle’s got the crew cleaning up what’s left. No sign of anyone else following Shadow’s trail,” he said. “We got a window to breathe.”
“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” she asked.
“What does?”
“Peace.”
