Shadow's been in and out all day—checking weapons, talking strategy, coordinating with Damon and my father.
Every time he comes back to the trailer, he checks on me.
It’s like he touches me just to make sure I’m real.
"You okay?" he asks for the tenth time.
"No. But I will be. After tonight."
He pulls me close, careful of both our healing tattoos. "This is almost over, darlin'. Just a few more hours."
"And then what?"
"Then we go home. Back to Texas. Figure out what's next." He kisses the top of my head.
There’s a knock on the trailer door.
Shadow tenses, but he heads over to it and opens it.
My father stands there, holding something.
Shadow's cut.
The Shotgun Saints cut that was stripped from him at the meet.
"This is yours," Phantom says, his voice neutral. "You're not a member. Not officially. But you're riding with us tonight. For Grace. So you wear the patch."
Shadow stares at it like he can't quite believe it's real.
"Phantom—"
"Don't make it a big thing." Dad's voice is firm. "This doesn't mean you're reinstated. Doesn't mean we're good. We're not. But tonight? You're a brother. You wear the cut, you ride with us, you fight with us." He pauses. "After tonight, we'll see."
Shadow takes the cut, runs his fingers over the patch. Shotgun Saints MC. The club he gave up for me.
"Thank you," he says quietly.
Dad just nods, then looks at me. "Baby girl, can I talk to you? Alone?"
Shadow glances at me. I nod. "It's okay."
Shadow leaves, taking his cut with him, and it's just me and my father in the small trailer.
Dad sits on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking older than I remember. Tired.
"You really love him?" he asks.
"Yes."
"And he treats you right? Takes care of you?"
"Yes, Dad. He does."
He nods slowly. "I see the way he looks at you. Like you're the only thing in the world that matters. Like he'd burn everything to ash to keep you safe."
"He would."
"I know." Phantom's quiet for a moment. "That's what scares me. A man that obsessed does crazy things."
