"I see the only place I've ever felt peace," he says, his voice dropping to a gravelly growl. "I see the place where I fell in love with a girl who was too good for a beat-up biker kid."
My pulse spikes against my ribs. It still feels surreal to hear him say it.
"You really waited," I say softly. "Ten years."
"I would have waited twenty." His gaze drops to my chest, then snaps back to my eyes. "I watched you leave, Court. I stood on the edge of the tree line and watched your car drive away because I thought I was too dirty for you. Too violent." He leans down, his nose brushing mine. "But like I said—I’m selfish now. You walked back here on your own, but I’m never letting you go."
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell him, and the realization settles in my chest, solid as a stone foundation. The city, my career, the safe, sterile life I built—it all feels thin compared to the vibrant, terrifying reality of this man.
Austin searches my eyes. When he finds no hesitation, a dark satisfaction spreads across his face. "Good. Because today we’re making sure everyone else knows it too."
He rolls off me, the loss of his heat raising goosebumps on my skin, and stands up. He’s gloriously, unashamedly naked, standing in the center of the room like a statue carved from war and granite. "Get dressed, Courtney. Wear something you don't mind getting dirty."
An hour later, I stand on the rotting front porch, wearing a pair of old jeans and one of Austin’s black t-shirts that hangs off my shoulder. The crisp air carries the scent of pine and impending snow.
Austin waits down in the yard, near the overgrown driveway. He grips a sledgehammer he pulled from his truck.
"What are you doing?" I call out, leaning against the railing.
He doesn't answer immediately. He walks over to the "For Sale" sign that the realtor planted near the road weeks ago. It leans drunkenly to the left.
He looks at it with pure disdain, then swings.
The crack of wood splitting echoes through the valley like a gunshot. The sign splinters, plastic shattering under the force of the blow. Austin doesn't stop. He swings again, and again, demolishing the post until nothing remains but kindling scattered in the tall grass.
He tosses the sledgehammer into the bed of his truck and stalks back toward the porch, wiping his hands on his jeans. He looks feral and satisfied, his chest heaving.
I watch the splinters of the sign settle into the dirt. The sensation in my chest anchors me rather than choking me. I walk back into the kitchen where my laptop sits on the scarred oak table, screen glowing with a dozen urgent emails from the firm in Chicago. They want me back for a contract negotiation on Monday, a life that feels like a faded photograph compared to the man standing on my porch.
"Something wrong?" Austin rumbles, his shadow looming over the table.
"No," I say, my voice steady as I click the final 'Send.' I didn't ask for a severance, and I didn't give two weeks' notice; I simply closed the lid with a definitive snap. I look up to find Austin filling the kitchen doorway. "I just realized that my career in Chicago was a mask I wore to prove I didn't need this mountain. I'm choosing the man who sees through them, and a life that finally belongs to me."
"You resigned?" he asks, his voice dropping into that low, proprietary register that makes my skin hum.
"Yes." I stand, leading the way back out onto the porch where the air bites sharp and clean.
I walk down the porch steps, the gravel crunching under my bare feet as I reach the wreckage of the sign near the driveway. I reach down, fingers trembling as I trace the jagged, splintered wood where he decimated the 'For Sale' sign only minutes before.
"Because of you. This sign was the last paper cut. I’m done settling for stories that belong to other people." I look out over the tree line, my resolve hardening.
"But I'm not done with the law, Austin. I'm just done with their law. This valley needs someone who knows how to fight for thelittle guy—and someone who knows how to navigate the gray areas your club lives in.
I'm going to open my own firm right here in town. 'Wade Legal' isn't dying; it’s just getting its teeth back." Austin lets out a sound somewhere between a dark laugh and a ragged exhale of relief.
He stalks toward me, his massive frame radiating a heat that makes my pussy throb with the memory of him filling me.
We meet at the base of the house, and as I step back onto the bottom stair, he stops one rung below me so we are at eye level. His intense gaze fixes on my face with a heavy, satisfied focus that feels like a physical brand.
"That sign was an insult," he says flatly.
"I gathered that."
"This is Gunnar land now," he corrects, his hand reaching out to grip my hip, pulling me closer to the edge of the wood. "Gunnar and Wade. We’re combining the territories."
I tilt my head, my heart skipping as the weight of the "Thunderbolt" bond settles between us. "Is that a proposal, Mr. Vice President?"
10
