He kissed me, soft and slow. A seal on a vow we both knew might be impossible to keep. Tomorrow we'd crawl into a drainage pipe and come out the other side into a firefight. Tomorrow we'd face Cross and his army and whatever trap he'd set for us. Tomorrow, one or both of us might not make it home.
But tonight, in this garage that smelled like motor oil and sex, with this man who'd become my whole world—tonight, we made promises anyway.
Because that's what love is, I realized. Making promises you might not be able to keep, and meaning them anyway.
Love.
The word settled into my chest like it belonged there. Like it had always been there, waiting for me to acknowledge it.
We'd cleaned up as best we could with a rag and a bottle of water from my pack, dressed in silence, and migrated to my room, where the bed was softer and the door had a lock.
The walk across the compound had been quiet, the night air cool against my still-flushed skin. A few brothers were still up, sitting around the firepit orchecking equipment one last time, but no one stopped us. No one commented on the fact that we were walking close enough for our shoulders to brush, or that Tyler's hair was still damp with sweat, or that we both probably looked exactly like what we were—two men who'd just fucked each other senseless and weren't remotely sorry about it.
Maybe they didn't care. Maybe they had bigger things to worry about. Or maybe—just maybe—the club had already accepted what Tank and Tyler were becoming, and saw no reason to make a thing of it.
Either way, I was grateful for the silence.
Tyler fell asleep first, the way he always did. One moment he was talking—something about the drain pipe, about how we'd need to move fast once we were inside, about the layout of the warehouse and where Cross was most likely to position his men—and the next his voice had trailed off, his breathing gone deep and even. Mid-sentence, mid-thought, like someone had flipped a switch.
I let him sleep. He needed the rest. We both did.
But sleep wouldn't come for me.
I lay in the darkness, Tyler's weight warm against my side, and stared at the ceiling. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the wall. Somewhere outside, a night bird called—a lonely sound that matched the hollow feeling in my chest.
I thought about the first time I'd seen Tyler. Standing in the compound with his government-issue suit and his carefully neutral expression, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. I'dthought he was just another fed—clean-cut, uptight, everything I wasn't. I'd resented his presence, resented the way he disrupted the easy rhythm of compound life, resented the way Hawk seemed to trust him even though he hadn't earned it.
Funny how things changed.
Now I couldn't imagine this room without him in it. Couldn't imagine riding without him beside me. Couldn't imagine facing whatever came next alone. The thought of going back to who I'd been before—solitary, closed-off, burying my grief in engine grease and violence—made my chest ache in a way I couldn't quite name.
The word I'd finally acknowledged hovered at the edge of my consciousness, pressing against my teeth. Love. Such a small word for something so vast. I'd thought I understood it before—the love of family, of brothers, of the club. Danny had taught me what it meant to love someone so much their absence became a wound that never healed.
But this was different. This was terrifying in a way grief had never been. Danny hadn't chosen to leave. Tyler could.
Every day, Tyler made the choice to stay. To be here, with me, in this insane life full of guns and violence and men who would kill us both if they got the chance. He could walk away. He could take his FBI credentials and his hard-won freedom and disappear into a normal life somewhere—a desk job, a safe apartment, a relationship with someone who didn't come with a body count and a criminal record.
He chose this instead. Chose me. That choice meant more than any three words could capture.
I tightened my arm around him, felt him murmur something in his sleep and press closer. His hand found my chest, settled over my heart like it belonged there.
I finally understand, Danny.The thought rose unbidden, aimed at a brother who'd been gone for six years. A brother whose voice I was starting to forget, whose face was starting to blur in my memory, but whose absence still ached like a phantom limb.I understand why you kept chasing that feeling. Why you were willing to risk everything for it.
I pressed a kiss to Tyler's hair, breathed in the scent of him—soap and sweat and something indefinably his. Something that had become the smell of home.
I'd burn the whole world down for him, Danny. I'd watch it all go up in flames and not feel a single fucking regret, as long as he was standing beside me when the ashes settled.
Maybe that made me crazy. Maybe that made me dangerous. Maybe loving someone this much was the worst possible thing I could do on the eve of a battle that might kill us both.
But I'd spent six years not feeling anything. six years of numbness and grief and going through the motions of living without actually being alive.
Tyler had woken me up. And I'd rather die feeling everything than go back to feeling nothing.
Sleep finally pulled me under, my arms wrapped around the man who'd become my whole world.
gray light filtered through the blinds when I opened my eyes. Pre-dawn. The hour when the world held its breath, balanced between darkness and light. The hour when soldiers and criminals and fools like us rose to meet whatever fate had in store.
For a moment I didn't move, just lay there feeling Tyler's heartbeat against my chest, savoring the last moments of stillness before everything changed. His body was warm against mine, his breathing slow and even, one hand still resting over my heart like he'd been keeping watch even in sleep.
