The word lands softly, but it resonates. I glance at Morgan, who's watching Grave with something that looks like approval, and I realize that's what this is.
Not just a club, not just brothers in arms, but family in the truest sense, people who show up when it matters, who make space for the strays who need it.
Conversation flows around us, low and steady, and I listen more than I speak, soaking in the dynamics.
Hansen joins us after a while, sitting at the head of the table, and when he starts talking about patrol schedules and security measures, he doesn't exclude me. He speaks plainly, laying out the situation without softening it, and I appreciate the respect in that.
"Deadwood's going to retaliate," Hansen says, his gaze moving between Morgan and me. "The one who got away will reportback, and they'll know we're not going to roll over. That means increased patrols, tighter security, no unnecessary risks."
Morgan's hand finds mine under the table, his fingers lacing through mine, and I squeeze back, grounding myself in the contact.
"What does that mean for me?" I ask quietly.
Hansen considers me for a moment, then answers honestly. "It means you stay close. You don't go anywhere without someone from the club. You let us handle the threats, and you stay safe. Can you do that?"
I nod. "Yes."
"Good." He shifts his attention to Morgan. "You're on her security."
Morgan nods once, his grip on my hand tightening just slightly.
After Hansen moves on to coordinate with Miller, Morgan turns to me, his voice dropping low enough that it's just for us. "I need to ask you something."
I look up at him, my heart suddenly beating faster. "Okay."
He hesitates, and I see something vulnerable flicker across his face before he smooths it away. "Last night, you said you trusted me. I need to know if that's still true this morning. If you still want this—want to be here, with me, with the club. Because if you don't, I'll find somewhere else for you. Somewhere safer, farther away. No judgment, no pressure. But if you stay—" He stops, his jaw tightening. "If you stay, it's permanent. You're part of this now, and I need you to be sure."
I realize this is the moment I've been moving toward since I stumbled through the bar doors in the middle of the storm. Thisis the choice I've been running from and toward at the same time, the decision to stop fleeing and start living.
I think about the cabin, warm and solid in the middle of nowhere. I think about the Night Wolves, rough and loyal and fiercely protective. I think about Morgan, who looked at me like I was worth saving and then proved it with action instead of words.
I think about Bullet, curled up safe and warm, no longer shivering in the snow.
I think about myself, and for the first time in months, I see someone strong enough to choose instead of just surviving.
"I'm sure," I say, and my voice doesn't waver. "I want to stay. With you."
Morgan leans in to kiss me, slow and grounding. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and I can feel the tension easing out of his shoulders.
"Okay," he says quietly. "Okay."
Bullet chooses that moment to jump onto the table, meowing loudly, and the absurdity of it breaks the tension. Morgan laughs and reaches over to scratch the kitten's head.
"Guess you're staying too, huh?" he murmurs to Bullet, and the cat purrs loud enough to be heard across the room.
I rest my hand on Morgan's arm, feeling the warmth of his skin and the solid strength beneath, and I let myself sink into the moment—the sunlight streaming through the window, the smell of coffee, the low hum of conversation around us, the weight of Morgan's presence beside me.
This is what safety feels like. Not the absence of danger, but the presence of people who will stand between you and it. Not hiding, but belonging.
He kisses my temple, his lips lingering there, and Bullet curls between us, purring so loudly it vibrates through the table.
The danger isn't gone, the threat isn't resolved, but I'm not running anymore.
Epilogue – Morgan
Two Years Later
The engine rumbles beneath me, cutting through the quiet of the mountain road as I lean into the curve. Behind me, Megan's arms tighten around my waist, her body pressing closer against my back, and I feel the shift in her weight as she anticipates the turn before I make it.
