"Ready to go?" Rage asks, finishing his drink. "We can slip out while everyone's distracted."
I glance around at the celebration gaining momentum. The room pulses with life and relief, brothers toasting each other, recounting narrow escapes, laughter rising above the music.
"You don't want to stay and celebrate with them?" I ask. "You earned it."
Rage's eyes drift to Eli's sleeping form. "I'd love to, but I'm exhausted, and the kid needs a real bed." He looks back at me. "You're welcome to stay if you want, though. I can ask Luna or Amelia to bring you to my place later."
I shake my head without hesitation. "I want to go with you."
"Follow me then. We'll grab one of the club cars."
As we make our way toward the garage, Rage stopping to collect his sleeping son, I notice Luna watching us from King's side. She catches my eye and gives me a knowing wink before turning back to her conversation. I pretend not to notice, heat rising to my cheeks.
Is it that obvious? My attraction to Rage? Though honestly, who wouldn't be drawn to him? Even battle-worn and exhausted, he's devastatingly handsome. Powerful shoulders beneath his cut, strong jawline shadowed with stubble, those intense green eyes that seem to see right through me.
The garage is an absolute mess: vehicles with shattered windows and bullet-riddled exteriors line the space. Rage approaches a black SUV that seems to have sustained the least damage.
"This one should still run," he says, shifting Eli in his arms while opening the back door. He lays his son across the back seat, removing his own cut to place under the boy's head as a makeshift pillow.
I climb into the passenger seat as Rage slides behind the wheel, the engine starting with a reassuring rumble. The windshield has a spiderweb crack on the driver's side, and there's a neat row of bullet holes along the passenger door, but the vehicle seems otherwise functional.
As we pull away from the clubhouse, the sounds of celebration fading behind us, Rage glances over at me. "How are you feeling? Really?"
I consider the question as we drive through the deserted streets of Blackwater Falls. "Better, I think. The worst has passed now that Tommy's dead and the Eagles lost and we won." I turn to look at him.
He nods, a satisfied smile playing at his lips. "We did. Big win for us. The Eagles will have to take weeks, maybe months just to get back on their feet. We can finally breathe for a while."
I smile and turn to look out the window, watching the darkened town pass by. I've escaped. I'm alive. Against all odds, I've survived Tommy, the Eagles, and a full-scale MC war. For the first time in over a year, my future is entirely my own.
Maybe it's time to make my own decisions. To fight for what I want, even if what I want is an older, dangerous, impossibly handsome biker. Logic says I should get as far away as possible. From Blackwater Falls, from the club, from Rage. But I can'tbring myself to want that. Not yet. Not when I might have a future here.
I know I'm not men's first choice. I'm not model-pretty, too curvy in a world that prefers women rail-thin. But tonight has taught me life is too short for hesitation. I survived. I deserve to reach for what I want.
And right now, I want Rage.
We turn onto a quiet residential street lined with modest, well-maintained homes. Rage pulls into the driveway of a ranch-style house with a neatly trimmed lawn and actual flower beds along the front walk. It's the last place you'd expect to find an outlaw biker.
Before I can unbuckle my seatbelt, Rage is out of the car and coming around to my side. He opens my door with an old-fashioned courtesy that surprises me. Then he moves to the back, gently gathering his sleeping son into his arms.
I follow them up the walkway, watching as Rage balances Eli while unlocking the front door. The interior of the house stops me in my tracks. It's... immaculate. Clean, organized, warm. It's like stepping into another dimension.
One where there are no fights, no violence, no outlaw MCs. Just a normal home for a normal family.
Rage carries Eli down a hallway to what must be his bedroom. I wait in the living room, taking in my surroundings. The furniture is comfortable but well-kept, the hardwood floors gleam, and the walls are covered with framed photographs. There's just one showing the Savage Riders MC—a group shot taken outside the clubhouse. The rest are all of Rage and Eli at various ages—fishing trips, birthday parties, school events.
When Rage returns a few minutes later, he's removed his boots and looks more relaxed, more at home in this space than I would have imagined possible.
"He sleeps like an angel," he says with fatherly pride. "Never wakes up no matter the noise. Complete opposite of me. I'm up at the slightest sound."
"It's probably a defense mechanism," I suggest. "From your life at the club."
He nods thoughtfully. "Never thought of it that way, but you're probably right." He gestures to the couch. "Sit, please. Can I get you anything? Water? Beer? I even have wine somewhere if that's your preference."
"Water would be great," I say, settling onto the comfortable couch.
He returns with two glasses of water, handing me one before taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch. He leans back, clasping his hands behind his head, and holy fuck, the way his biceps flex with the movement makes my mouth go dry. His t-shirt stretches across his chest, revealing the outline of what can only be described as a perfect male physique.
I take a large gulp of water, trying to cool the sudden heat coursing through me.
