"Good." He clinked his glass against mine. "Get used to it. We've got a lifetime ahead."
A lifetime. The word settled into my chest like a promise. I was about to respond when movement caught my eye. Tyler, slipping out the back door. And Tank, a moment later, following.
I didn't follow them. Just drifted toward the window, curious despite myself.
They stood at the edge of the property, near the tree line. Still facing the clubhouse, their faces painted golden by the outer lights. The same spot I'd watched them find each other at my claiming ceremony. But the body language was different now—tenser. Tyler was talking, hands moving with unusual agitation. Tank stood rigid, arms crossed, face unreadable.
Something was wrong.
I couldn't hear them, but I could see Tyler pull out his phone, show Tank something on the screen. Tank's expression shifted—subtle, but there. Jaw tightening. Shoulders squaring. The posture of a man preparing for a fight.
Tyler ran a hand through his hair, shook his head. Said something I couldn't catch. Tank stepped closer. Close enough that their shoulders almost touched. He spoke—a few words, short and certain. Tyler went still.
Then Tank's hand came up, gripped Tyler's shoulder. Not gentle, but grounding. The gesture of a man making a promise.
They stood like that for a long moment, silhouetted against the darkening sky. Two men on the edge of something. Twomen who'd found each other in the aftermath of war and weren't letting go.
I turned away. This wasn't my story anymore. But as I rejoined the celebration, I couldn't shake what I'd seen on Tyler's face when he looked at his phone.
Fear.
Not the fear of a man in immediate danger—but the fear of a man who recognized a threat. Who knew exactly what was coming and couldn't stop it.
Something had followed him out of the FBI. Something from his undercover days, maybe. Someone who'd finally figured out who'd really brought down Chen's network. Someone with a grudge and the resources to act on it. I dwelled in Tyler’s words, when he explained that the corruption hadn't died with Chen. It had just gone underground.
Maybe, it was now rising.
Later that night, after the celebration had wound down, I found Tyler alone on the back porch. He was staring at nothing. The phone was nowhere in sight, but the shadow of whatever he'd seen lingered in his expression.
"Hey." I settled beside him. "Want to talk about it?"
"No." The word was immediate. Then, softer: "Not yet. I'm still figuring out what I'm dealing with."
"Is it bad?"
Silence lingered for what felt like an eternity.
"Yeah," he finally said. "It might be."
"Can I help?"
"Not this time." He turned to look at me, and I saw the brother who'd protected me through foster homes and violence and impossible odds. "This is my mess, Kai. My past. I won't drag you into it."
"That's not how family works."
"I know." A ghost of a smile. "But let me try to handle it first. If I can't..." He trailed off, looked back toward the clubhouse. Toward where Tank had disappeared inside. "If I can't, I'll ask for help. I promise."
I wanted to push. Wanted to demand answers, demand to help, demand to fight whatever was coming the way we'd fought everything else.
But Tyler wasn't ready. And some battles, I was learning, couldn't be won by force. "Okay," I said. "But Tyler—you're not alone anymore. Whatever this is. You've got me. You've got the club." I paused. "You've got Tank."
Something flickered in his expression. Pain. Hope. Fear. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."
We sat in silence as the stars emerged overhead. Inside, the celebration continued—laughter and music and the warmth of family.
Outside, the darkness pressed close. And somewhere in that darkness, something was stirring. Something that would test everything we'd built. But that was a battle for another day.
Tonight, I had a ring on my finger and a man I loved and a future worth fighting for. Whatever came next, we'd face it together.
That was the only promise that mattered.
