I walk to the window and look out at the driveway where he had been standing. The tire tracks are deep in the gravel, marking the spot.
He’s the Vice President now. A leader. A criminal, according to half the town. A savage, according to the rest.
And he looked at me like he wanted to devour me whole.
His eyes caught the curve of my hips, lingering long enough to notice the absence of a ring on my finger. Then came the question—if I had a boyfriend or husband. I told him I’m single. What did I just do?
A tremor ripples through me. I remember the stories my aunt used to tell about the Gunnar men. They don't love like normal people. They fixate. They obsess. They claim.
I should be terrified. I should get back in the car and drive to the airport right now.
But I don't.
Instead, I lock the door, dragging the deadbolt home. It feels less like I’m locking the world out, and more like I’m locking myself in. Waiting for the storm to return.
Because Austin Gunnar isn't done. He’s just getting started. And the way my body lit up under his gaze... I might not want him to stop.
2
AUSTIN
The vibration of the V-twin engine between my thighs usually settles me. It’s a rhythmic, mechanical thrum that drowns out the noise in my head, focusing the world down to the asphalt eating up the miles beneath my tires. But today, even with the throttle twisted wide open and the wind tearing at my cut, the roar isn’t enough.
Nothing is enough. Not after seeing her.
Courtney Wade.
Her name tastes like ash and honey on my tongue. I left her standing on that rotting porch less than twenty minutes ago, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Trembling. Defiant.
Ten years.
Ten fucking years I’ve waited, watching that house decay, watching the seasons strip the paint and warp the wood, just waiting for her to come back to salvage what was left.
I knew she would. She never could let go of things, even when she should. She ran from the blood and the noise of the club, but she couldn't run from the roots she has in this dirt.
I bank the bike hard to the left, leaning deep into the turn that leads off the main road and into the dense, towering pines of the Grizzly Peak District. The air here feels colder. Sharper. It smells of resin and damp earth, a scent that signals home to anyone wearing the Broken Halos patch.
The compound rises out of the shadows of the forest, a fortress of timber and steel. My brother Logan’s bike is already parked out front, the massive black beast gleaming under the security lights. The clubhouse sits quiet this time of day, the lull before the night’s chaos kicks in, but I’m not here for beer or brotherhood. I’m here for logistics.
I kill the engine. Silence rushes back in instantly, ringing in my ears. As I dismount, the gravel crunches under my boots—heavy, deliberate steps. I feel like a predator circling back for the kill.
Logan sits on the wide wooden porch of the main building, nursing a black coffee. He doesn't look up as I approach, but I know he’s tracking every movement. He’s the President for a reason; nothing gets past him.
"You look like you're ready to punch a hole through a wall," Logan says, his voice a low rumble matching the mountain. He takes a slow sip of his coffee. "She's back, then?"
I stop at the bottom of the steps, crossing my arms over my chest. My biceps strain against the black cotton of my t-shirt. "She's back."
"And?"
"And she thinks she's selling the place. Thinks she's going to patch up a few holes, sign a deed, and run back to the city in three days."
Logan finally looks at me. His eyes are dark, entirely too knowing. He knows what Courtney was to me before the life took over. He knows I’ve been guarding that empty shell of a house like a tomb for so many years. "I take it you corrected her on that assumption."
"I'm handling it," I growl, stepping up onto the porch. I lean against the railing, staring out into the trees. "The house is falling apart, Logan. A death trap. The roof is sagging, the porch is rotted through. If she tries to fix it herself, she’s going to get hurt. If she hires someone from town, they’ll overcharge her and do a shit job."
"So you're going to act as her general contractor?" Logan asks, a hint of amusement curling his lip. "The VP of Broken Halos, doing home renovations?"
"I'm going to make sure the structure is sound," I correct him, my voice dropping. "And I'm going to make sure she doesn't leave until I'm done with her."
