"This is really happening." His smile was sunrise. "Let's go home and tell everyone."
"Race you there."
His eyes lit up. "You're on, Violet."
The ride back was wild.
We exploded off that overlook like we'd been shot from a cannon—two bikes, two men, no rules. Axel took an early lead, but I knew these roads now, knew the curves and straightaways,knew exactly how far I could push my Kawasaki before she screamed for mercy.
I pushed her further. The violet glow beneath my frame streaked through the gathering dusk like a comet's tail. I caught Axel on the first switchback, passed him on the second, heard his whoop of surprise as I carved a line so tight my knee nearly kissed asphalt.
He answered. Of course he answered.
His Harley roared up beside me, and then we were racing for real—not against each other, but with each other. Equals. Partners. Two riders who'd earned every mile of this road in blood and fire.
We wove between each other like dancers, trading positions, showing off, laughing into the wind. Axel popped a wheelie on a straightaway, and I answered by hitting a curve so fast the world tilted sideways. He shouted something—my name, maybe, or just joy given voice—and I shouted back, words torn away before they could form.
The speedometer climbed. Seventy. Eighty. Ninety on the straight sections, the engine screaming beneath me, the wind trying to rip the happiness right out of my chest.
It couldn't. Nothing could.
The city lights appeared on the horizon, glittering like scattered diamonds. We raced toward them side by side, our headlights cutting twin paths through the darkness. My violet LEDs painted the asphalt purple. His engine thundered like a heartbeat.
This is what freedom feels like, I thought.This is what the future looks like.
We hit the city limits at full speed, only slowing when the streets demanded it. Even then, we rode close—close enough to reach out and touch, close enough that our handlebars nearly kissed on the turns. Reckless. Perfect.
By the time we roared through the clubhouse gates, I was trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelmingalivenessof it all. We killed our engines in unison, and the sudden silence rang like a bell.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
"Yeah." Axel pulled off his helmet, hair wild, eyes bright with the same manic joy I felt. "Holy shit."
I was off my bike and in his arms before I made the conscious choice. He caught me, laughing, spinning me around once before setting me down and kissing me like we were the only two people in the world.
We weren't. The clubhouse doors burst open, and Irish's voice carried across the lot.
"They're back! And they're making out! Someone owes me twenty bucks!"
We broke apart, laughing. "Ready to tell them?" Axel asked.
I held up my hand, let the ring catch the light. My violet highlights glowed beneath the Kawasaki like a promise kept.
"Ready."
The announcement was met with chaos.
Cheers, whoops, Irish crying again and pretending he wasn't. Maria hugged me so hard I couldn't breathe. Hawk shook Axel's hand with something like pride. Ghost did an actual fist pump, which was possibly the most endearing thing I'd ever seen.
Bottles appeared. Toasts were made. Someone started music, and suddenly there was dancing, and everything was noise and light and celebration. I stood at the edge of it, ring heavy on my finger, watching the family we'd built move and laugh and live.
This was what we'd fought for. This was what the blood and fear and impossible choices had bought. Not just survival—but joy. Connection. A future worth having.
Axel found me there, pressed a glass of whiskey into my hand.
"Happy?" he asked.
"More than I knew was possible."
