"Not yet."
"Soon enough."
I smiled against his chest and closed my eyes.
Soon enough.
EPILOGUE — RISING
THREE MONTHS LATER
Morning light spilled through the curtains like liquid gold. I lay still, watching dust motes drift through the beams, listening to Axel breathe beside me. His arm was heavy across my waist, his chest warm against my back. Three months of waking up like this, and it still felt like a miracle.
The clubhouse had become home in ways I hadn't expected. Not just the room we shared, but the worn leather couches, the scarred wooden tables, the kitchen that always smelled like Maria's cooking. The rhythm of it—morning coffee with Irish, evening drinks with Blade, weekends spent riding with the whole crew. A life built from chaos and choice.
Axel stirred, pulled me closer.
"You're thinking too loud," he mumbled into my hair.
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just come here." He rolled me over, kissed me slow and deep. Morning breath and all. I didn't care.
"I have a surprise for you today," he said when we finally broke apart.
"What kind of surprise?"
"The kind that requires a motorcycle." His fingers found my hair, twisting through the freshly dyed purple streaks. I'd finally restored them last week—vivid and unapologetic, the way they were supposed to be. "There's my Violet," he murmured.
"Missed being me."
"I know." He kissed my forehead. "No more hiding. Not ever again."
"Promise?"
"Promise." He hauled himself out of bed. "Now get dressed. I want to see those violet lights on your Kawasaki. It's been too long."
I grinned. I'd reinstalled the underlights yesterday—spent three hours in the garage with Irish helping me wire them back in. The bike was finally herself again. So was I.
"Breakfast first," I said. "Maria's making those pancakes you like."
"Then we ride." He asserted.
"Then we ride."
Breakfast was an organized disarray. The long table in the common room was crowded—members grabbing plates, trading insults, nursing hangovers from last night's poker game. Maria moved through it all like a general, wielding a spatula and dispensing pancakes with ruthless efficiency.
I slid into my usual seat between Ghost and Blade, accepting the coffee Irish pressed into my hands. "Morning, sleeping beauty," Irish said, grinning. "Nice of you to join us."
"Some of us don't need to be up at dawn."
"Some of us have responsibilities." Declan appeared behind Irish, dropped a kiss on his head, and stole a piece of bacon from his plate. "Unlike layabouts who spend all morning in bed."
"I heard that," Axel said, settling beside me. "And I resent the implication."
"What implication? I'm merely observing that you two are disgustingly happy and it's ruining my appetite."
"Nothing ruins your appetite," Irish pointed out. "Last week you ate an entire pizza at 3 AM."
