I watch Diesel sink a pool ball, laughing.
"That's the thing about the guys in this club.” Trix meets my eyes. “They’ll die for each other. Kill for each other. But they also know how to live life to the fullest. Celebrate the good moments. Because life is short and brutal, so you take the wins when you can."
My eyes find Rhett across the room. He's laughing with Steel and Tank, and every few minutes he glances over. Each time our eyes meet, he winks—this small, private thing just for me.
Something warm blooms in my chest. Not vague romance novel warmth. Hope. Actual fucking hope.
After another hour, my feet are killing me, but I'm happy. Rhett appears at my elbow.
"Dance with me."
"I don't know how?—"
"Don't care." He's already pulling me toward the makeshift dance floor in the center of the room. "Just follow."
His arms wrap around me, one hand splayed on my back, the other capturing mine against his chest. I feel his heartbeat, steady and strong.
“You okay?"
"More than okay." I rest my head on his chest, letting him guide me. "Thank you. For all of this."
"Nothing to thank me for." His hand moves in circles on my back. "This is what you deserve. Being celebrated. Being loved."
Loved.
He hasn't said those three words to me yet. Neither have I. But I feel them in how he holds me, see them in how he looks at me.
They echo in my chest like a second heartbeat.
The song ends. Something faster starts. Rhett releases me reluctantly.
"I need to talk to Steel for a few. You good?"
"Yeah." I touch his face, feel the scruff. "I'll go help Trix again.”
But Lizzie intercepts me. "Honey, Trix is fine. Why don't you take a breather? You look a little overwhelmed.”
She's right. The noise, the crowd—it's a lot.
“I could use a little fresh air,” I admit.
"Side door." She points. “There’s a little patio. It’s a quiet spot."
Maybe I shouldn’t go out alone… No, that's old thinking. I'm safe here at the Hellhound Compound.
This is home.
I make my way through the crowd, accepting wide smiles and pats on the back. The side door opens easy, lets in cool night air that feels like relief.
The patio is small—mismatched chairs, dying plants, a view of the parking lot. I lean against the railing, breathing deep.
Behind me, the party continues. Laughter and music. I'm wearing Rhett's claim. I'm officially part of the Hellbound Devils.
Just the realization that after years of abuse, I have a caring family has me grinning like a fool.
The night air tastes like freedom, but I should know better than to let my guard down.
Happiness like this is never free. Eventually the bill comes due.
