"He'd never hurt me."
"I know that too." Phantom looks at me, really looks at me. "When you left—when you ran—I thought I'd lost you. Thought you'd never come back. Thought I'd driven you away for good."
"Dad—"
"Let me finish." His voice cracks slightly, the emotion breaking through again. "You're my baby girl, Grace. My little girl. And I failed you. I arranged that marriage to Bronco. Handed you to a monster. And I didn't even know what I'd done until years later when you finally told me."
Tears burn my eyes. "That wasn't your fault."
"It was. I'm your father. I'm supposed to protect you. And I put you in danger." He reaches for my hand. "So, if Shadowmakes you happy, if he keeps you safe, if he's what you need—then I'll deal with it. I'll find a way to accept it."
"I need him, Dad. I love him."
"Then that's enough for me." Dad stands, kisses my forehead. "But if he ever hurts you?—"
"He won't."
"If he does, I'll kill him myself."
He won’t ever do it, but I know my father isn’t bluffing.
It’s eight in the evening and the sun is setting over the Vegas desert, painting everything gold and red.
The Reapers Rejects compound is complete chaos—brothers suiting up, checking weapons, and preparing to ride.
Twenty Reapers Rejects brothers in full cuts. Five Shotgun Saints brothers in theirs.
All armed. All ready.
And I'm not going with them.
Shadow finds me outside the trailer.
He's wearing his Shotgun Saints cut again, and seeing him in it does something to me.
Makes him look more himself. More complete.
Dangerous.
"You're really not letting me come," I say. Not a question.
"No." His voice is firm. Final. "You stay here. Safe."
"Shadow—"
He cups my face in his hands, forces me to look at him. "Grace, I can't focus on ending Flint if I'm worried about you. I need to know you're here. Protected. Safe. Can you give me that?"
I want to argue. Want to demand to go. Want to see Flint's face when he realizes he lost.
But Shadow's right.
"Okay," I whisper. "I'll stay."
Relief floods his expression. "Thank you."
He kisses me, deep and desperate, like he's trying to memorize the taste of me.
"I love you," he murmurs against my lips.
