Koa nods his agreement. “That was some cold-blooded spy shit right there. Respect, girl! Respect!”
Bear’s massive frame shakes with laughter. “Girl’s got balls. Well done, kid.”
I laugh despite myself, the adrenaline finally crashing, leaving me shaky, exhausted, and inexplicably giddy.
We did it.
We actually did it.
Derek is going to prison.
The evidence is solid.
And Queenie and the victims of the retirement village will finally get justice.
Nitro tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I love you,” he says with no hesitation, no fear. “I love your courage, your strength, your fierce heart. I love every part of you, Marley Wren.”
“I love you too,” I whisper back, and this time when he kisses me, it’s not for show, not for an audience, not for anyone but us.
It’s real.
It’s ours.
It’s fearless.
And as the club brothers cheer, Maria finishes coordinating with her team, and the café patrons cautiously return to their overpriced lattes, I realize something important—I’m not thesame woman who sobbed in Nitro’s back seat months ago, broken, lost, and convinced I was worthless.
I’m stronger now.
Braver now.
Loved now.
And nothing, not Derek’s cruelty, not the age gap, not my insecurities, will ever take that away from me again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
NITRO
One week after Derek’s arrest, the morning sun cuts through Vegas like a blade, harsh and unforgiving.
Perfect weather for justice.
I adjust my cut, the leather warm against my shoulders, and glance at the line of brothers flanking me. Sin stands to my right, his eyes fixed on the county jail entrance with predatory focus. Koa is on my left, arms crossed over his massive chest, every inch the intimidating sergeant-at-arms. Behind us, the rest of Las Vegas Defiance, Ghost, Bear, Deek, Mace, Warden, Hash, Axel, Flint, Will, and Liam form an impressive wall of leather and chrome.
And Marley?
She is pressed against my side, her small hand gripping mine so tight I can feel her pulse racing through her palm. She insisted on being here. Insisted on watching Derek get precisely what he deserves.
“You good, Small Town?” I murmur, leaning down so only she can hear me over the rumble of idling bikes.
She nods, but her jaw is clenched, her knuckles white. “I need to see it,” she says, her voice steady despite the tension radiating through her body. “I need to see Derek go in.”
Victoria moves to stand beside her, the First Lady of our club offering silent support. They’ve become close these past weeks, two women who’ve faced down their demons and come out stronger for it. Victoria slips her arm around Marley’s shoulders, and I watch some of the rigidity ease from Marley’s spine.
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Victoria says quietly. “None of us will let him.”
The transport van pulls up, and the air shifts.
