"He's coming to watch the house," I say. "He'll be parked at the end of the drive. You won't see him, but he'll be there."
"Austin, you're scaring me," she says quietly.
"Good," I say. "Fear keeps you alive."
I lean down and kiss her one last time. A promise and a threat rolled into one.
"I'll be back," I promise against her lips. "We aren't done. Not by a long shot."
I pull away before I can change my mind, stalking out of the room. My body aches with unspent need, my cock throbbing in protest, but my mind already shifts gears.
I walk down the stairs, checking the locks, checking the windows. Everything tight.
I step out onto the porch, the cold night air hitting the sweat on my neck. I wait until I hear the rumble of Shane’s bike approaching in the distance before I swing a leg over my bike.
I fire up the engine, the roar shattering the peace of the mountain. I look up at the window one last time. She’s there, watching me from behind the glass, a silhouette in the yellow light.
My woman. My house. My territory.
And if the Costas think they can come onto my mountain and threaten what’s mine, they’re going to find out exactly why the devil runs this club.
I gun the engine and tear off down the driveway, leaving my heart in that rotting house, riding straight into hell.
5
COURTNEY
The roar of a motorcycle engine cuts through the night, vibrating in my chest before the headlights even sweep across the peeling floral wallpaper. It’s a distinct, guttural growl—lower and more aggressive than Shane’s bike, which has been a low, rhythmic thrum at the end of the driveway for hours.
Shane has been a silent sentinel in the dark. Four hours of me pacing, wondering if the 'War Room' meant he was coming back to me or heading into a fight. The silence of the house felt like a physical weight until the roar of Austin’s Harley finally shattered it.
My heart hammers a frantic rhythm against my ribs, echoing the heavy thrum of the V-twin engine outside. I haven’t moved from the bedroom since he left me panting and flushed.I’m still wearing the oversized t-shirt I’d been cleaning in, my legs bare, the air in the house cold but my skin feverish. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even sit down. My body is a live wire of unspent adrenaline and aching need, left suspended when duty called him away.
The engine cuts out. Heavy boots crunch on the gravel, followed by the low rumble of male voices. Shane and Austin. The exchange is brief, clipped. A changing of the guard. Then, the roar of Shane’s bike fading down the mountain road leaves only the oppressive quiet of the Grizzly Peak woods and the heavy, deliberate tread of boots mounting the porch steps.
I don’t wait for him to knock. I shouldn’t open the door—he told me to keep it locked—but my hand is on the bolt before I can think twice. I throw the heavy oak door open just as he reaches for the handle.
Austin fills the doorframe, his massive silhouette effectively erasing the moonlight. He looks fucking colossal, a wall of pure, unadulterated muscle that makes the foyer feel like a cage. He’s still wearing his cut, the heavy leather smelling of cold mountain air, gasoline, and the metallic tang of gun oil. His hair is wind-blown, wild around his face, and his eyes are black pits, blown out with a mix of exhaustion and feral hunger.
"I told you to keep this locked," he growls, his voice a rough scrape of gravel. He steps inside without waiting for an invite, kicking the door shut behind him with a definitive slam that rattles the windows. The lock clicks home with a snap of his wrist.
"I knew it was you," I breathe, backing up as he advances. The space in the entryway suddenly feels microscopic.
"You didn't know shit, Court. Could've been anyone."
He stalks me, his movements predatory and fluid despite his massive size, the heavy leather of his cut making his silhouette even more imposing. "But you're right. It was me. And now I’m back."
I stumble backward until my spine hits the wall—nowhere left to go. "Is everything... is everyone okay?" I ask, my voice trembling as I look up at the predator I just let in.
He stops inches from me, planting a hand on the wall beside my head. He looms over me, a mountain of fire and muscle. "We caught two Costa scouts testing the fence line near the old logging road. They were trying to see if we were distracted by your arrival. I left them with a reminder that trespassing on Gunnar dirt carries a heavy price. They won’t be back tonight, and Logan has the Road Captain patrolling the ridge. Club business is handled."
He leans in, his nose brushing mine, the scent of gasoline and gun oil clouding my senses. "The only thing I’m worried about right now is finishing what we started before my brother interrupted."
The air between us crackles, thick and suffocating. My nipples peak hard against the thin cotton of my shirt—a betrayal he notices immediately. His gaze drops, lingering on the way the fabric tents over my chest, then travels lower to my bare thighs. A muscle feathers in his jaw.
"You didn't get dressed," he observes, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating through the floorboards and straight up into my pussy.
"I couldn't," I admit, my voice barely a whisper. "I was waiting."
