Samson’s hand found mine again, our fingers intertwining as he rose, drawing me up with him.“Let’s go inside,” he said, his voice carrying new intentions sending warmth curling through my belly.
I nodded, following as he led me toward the cabin door.Behind us, the compound continued its evening rhythm -- music and voices from the clubhouse, engines in the distance, the subtle movements of Prospects on security rotation.Before us lay our private world -- the home we’d created together, the future we were building day by day.
Samson closed the door behind us, sealing out the night.But unlike the closed doors of my past, this one locked from the inside, by our choice.
Epilogue
Samson
Fall would quickly become winter.But in Tennessee, that could mean anything from snow to seventy-degree days.But most mornings were crisp and smelled of pine and woodsmoke.The kind of mornings that got into your bones and stayed there, reminders of change and the passing of seasons whether you welcomed it or not.
Life inside the compound found its rhythm again -- steady, humming, alive.The tension from the courthouse, from Davis’ war, had faded into something quieter.A memory, not a wound.The sound of hammers and laughter replaced the crackle of radios and whispered threat assessments.The Kings rebuilt comfort the same way we fixed bikes -- slow, deliberate, with our own hands.
Callie stood at the edge of the yard now, bare feet sinking into damp grass, wind whipping her loose hair as she hung laundry on the line we’d strung between two posts.The sight stopped me the same way it always did.Simple tasks looked different on her.Stronger.She moved with a calm confidence that no longer came from survival but from belonging.
When I first brought her here, she’d wrapped herself in my leather cut like it could shield her from the world.Now, the only thing she wore over her shoulders was the morning sun.
Across the yard, the clubhouse door opened, Ranger’s deep laughter rolling across the space.He waved from the steps before heading toward the garage.Beast followed him out, catching my eye as he crossed the gravel.He carried a clipboard, but his grin said none of this was business.
“Morning, brother.”He looked toward Callie before back to me.“You planning to stare or help her finish?”
I smirked.“Think she’s got it handled.”
“She usually does.”He chuckled.“Lyssa wants you both at the main hall before dinner.She’s got this wild idea about decorating for the gathering next week.Says you’re both in charge of the lights this year.”
I groaned, remembering last time she roped me into that mess of tangled cords and high ladders.
“Don’t look so traumatized,” Beast added, still grinning.“Your woman’s good at making order out of chaos.Maybe she’ll manage what none of us could.”
“Probably will,” I admitted, watching as Callie pinned the last sheet to the line.“She’s been managing me for months.”
Beast’s grin softened into something closer to understanding.“And you don’t mind one damn bit, do you?”
“Not even a little.”
He gave a low whistle.“Didn’t think I’d live to see the day Samson went domestic.”
I shrugged.“Didn’t think I would either.”
Beast slapped my shoulder, the weight reassuring.“You’ve earned a little peace.”He turned toward the clubhouse.“Don’t keep Lyssa waiting too long, or she’ll hunt you down.”
When he disappeared inside, I crossed the yard to Callie.The sheets caught the breeze, snapping softly between us like white sails.
“You keep this up, I might start thinking we’re civilized,” I teased, resting a hand on the wooden post.
She didn’t turn immediately, just smiled over her shoulder.“You say that like civilization’s a bad thing.”
“Depends who’s asking.”
“You, apparently.”Her voice carried amusement edged with affection.She stepped closer, sun catching the silver bracelet at her wrist.“I get the feeling there’s something happening tonight.Lyssa’s planning something, isn’t she?”
“She always is.”I reached for her free hand, thumb brushing her knuckles.“She roped us into stringing lights for the gathering.”
Callie groaned but didn’t pull away.“Why us?There has to be someone else.”
“I told Beast no, but you know how that goes.”
She laughed, soft and real, and leaned into me until her forehead rested against my chest.“You’re terrible at saying no to people you care about.”
