She squeezes my hand. "You're family now. We take care of our own."
Family. Something I've been missing since my parents died, something broader than just James and me struggling to survive.
King leads us through the garage to where a nondescript black SUV waits, its windows tinted, its license plates newly changed according to Beast, who joins us briefly to confirm final details.
"Safe journey," King says as Jacob helps me into the passenger seat, James climbing into the back. "See you on the other side of this."
Jacob clasps his president's hand in a firm shake that communicates volumes between the two men. Then he circles to the driver's side, slides behind the wheel, and brings the engine to life.
As we pull away from the clubhouse, I watch in the side mirror as multiple motorcycles roar to life, heading in the opposite direction. Our decoy, designed to draw attention away from our actual route.
"Everyone okay?" Jacob asks as we pass through the gate, his eyes briefly meeting James's in the rearview mirror before settling on me.
"Yeah," James answers from the back seat, sounding calmer than he has in days. "Let's get somewhere safe."
I reach across the console, placing my hand on Jacob's thigh. "I'm good," I tell him, meaning it despite everything.
He covers my hand with his own, squeezing gently as we accelerate onto the highway, leaving Blackwater Falls behind. The sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple, a beautiful backdrop for our escape.
The future remains uncertain. Vulture still hunting us, James's recovery just beginning, my relationship with Jacob new and untested. But for the first time in years, uncertainty doesn't feel like a threat. It feels like possibility.
As darkness falls and the miles pass beneath our wheels, I find myself watching Jacob's profile, illuminated intermittently by passing headlights. Strong jaw, focused eyes, capable hands on the wheel, a man I barely know yet trust completely. A man whomakes me feel both protected and powerful, who sees strength in me that I'd forgotten was there.
"What?" he asks, catching me staring.
"Just thinking," I reply with a small smile. "About how sometimes the worst night of your life can lead to something unexpected. Something good."
His eyes soften, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah," he agrees, squeezing my hand again. "Something really good."
In the back seat, James has dozed off, his head resting against the window, his breathing deep and even. Ahead lies the safe house and whatever comes after—danger, certainly, but also opportunity. The chance to redefine who I am and what I want. The chance to build something new with the quiet mechanic who saved my life in more ways than one.
As we turn onto a darkened country road, Jacob's hand warm and steady on mine, I realize with sudden clarity that for the first time in years, I'm not just surviving.
I'm living.
Epilogue – Steel
Two years later
I stand on the porch of what was once called the "safe house" but is now simply "home." The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the yard where Holly is pushing our fourteen-month-old daughter Naomi on the swing I built last summer.
"Higher, Daddy! Naomi wants to go higher!" Holly calls out, catching my eye with the smile that still stops my heart.
"Coming," I reply, setting down my beer and crossing the yard to my girls.
Naomi's face lights up when she sees me, her small arms reaching out. "Da-da!" she cries, her favorite word these days. She has Holly's green eyes and my dark hair, a perfect blend of us both that still amazes me every time I look at her.
I take over pushing duties, pressing a kiss to Holly's temple as we trade places. "How was your shift at the clinic?" I ask, giving Naomi another gentle push that sends her squealing with delight.
"Good," Holly answers, leaning against the sturdy oak frame of the swing set. "Mrs. Peterson's wound is healing nicely, and Dr. Roberts asked if I'd consider taking more hours once I finish my degree next semester."
Pride swells in my chest as I watch her, dressed in scrubs from her part-time job at the local clinic where she works while completing her nursing degree. She's flourishing in ways that make me fall in love with her all over again every day.
The sound of an approaching motorcycle interrupts our conversation. I tense momentarily, old instincts kicking in, but relax when I recognize the distinctive rumble of James'sSportster. Naomi hears it too, her head swiveling toward the sound, excitement replacing her swing-induced joy.
"Un-ca! Un-ca!" she chants, already struggling to get out of the swing.
I lift her out, setting her on her feet but keeping hold of her hand as James pulls up the gravel driveway. He's riding the bike I rebuilt for him last year after he completed his one-year sobriety chip—a gift from me and the club to mark his progress.
