Sleep came like a hammer blow. I barely remembered crawling into bed, barely felt Axel settling beside me. Just darkness—deep, dreamless, absolute—swallowing me whole.
When I woke, the light had changed. Late afternoon, maybe. Golden sun streaming through the curtains, dust motes dancing in the beams. Axel was still beside me, one arm thrown across my chest, breath slow and even.
I turned with the stealth of a feline and watched him sleep for a while. The hard lines of his face had softened, and without the constant vigilance, he looked younger. Softer. Like the man he might have been if life hadn't demanded so much armor.
This man had killed for me. Fought for me. Told me he loved me and meant it. And I loved him back. Completely. Terrifyingly.
His eyes fluttered open, caught me staring.
"Hey," he murmured.
"Hey yourself."
"What time is it?"
"No idea. Don't care."
He smiled—slow, warm, the kind of smile that made my chest ache. "Come here."
The clubhouse came alive around us as evening fell. Members drifted in and out, raiding the kitchen, swapping stories, processing the last few days in the way men like these did—with dark humor and darker whiskey. Irish had produced a bottle of something aged and expensive, and Declan was holding court at the bar, recounting the sniper shots that had saved my life with increasingly elaborate hand gestures.
"—and then I see Chen herself walk through that door, cool as you please, and I think, 'Dec, you beautiful bastard, you're about to make the shot of your career?—'"
"You didn't take the shot," Irish pointed out.
"She was using a hostage as a shield! I'm good, love, but I'm notmagic."
"Could've fooled me last night."
"That was different. That was—" Declan caught my eye, grinned. "That was saving our Kai here. Worth the risk."
"Our Kai," Irish repeated, something warm in his voice. "Yeah. He is, isn't he?"
I ducked my head, embarrassed by the attention. But underneath the discomfort was something else—belonging. Acceptance. The knowledge that I'd earned my place here, not through blood or birth, but through choice. Found family. The best kind.
Maria pressed a plate into my hands—roast chicken, potatoes, vegetables I didn't recognize but that smelled incredible. "Eat," she ordered. "You're too skinny."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it’s true." But she smiled as she said it, and squeezed my shoulder before moving on to force-feed another Phoenix member.
I ate. For the first time in days, food actually had flavor.
Tyler found me on the back porch after dinner. The night was cool, clear, stars scattered across the sky like spilled salt. I was nursing a beer I didn't really want, staring at nothing, letting the quiet settle into my bones.
"Hey." He dropped onto the step beside me. "Mind company?"
"Never." I studied his face—the exhaustion still etched there, the bandage on his arm, the weight in his eyes. "How are you holding up?"
"Honestly? I don't know." He accepted the beer I offered, took a long pull. "I spent eight months becoming someone else. Doing things I'll never be able to forget. And now it's over, and I don't know who I'm supposed to be."
"You're my brother. That hasn't changed."
"Hasn't it?" He stared at his hands. "I killed people, Kai. Not in combat—up close, personal. I watched Viper's operation destroy lives and did nothing because the mission was more important. What kind of person does that make me?"
"The kind who saves sixty people when it counts."
"Does that balance the scales?"
