We're quiet for a moment, just breathing together.
The sounds of the party drift up from below—music and laughter, the rumble of motorcycles, the clink of bottles. The soundtrack of our life.
"I've been thinking," I say eventually.
"About what?"
"About the future. Our future." I prop myself up on my elbow, looking down at him. "I want to keep working with women like Jade. Women who are trying to escape abusive situations. I want to help them the way you helped me."
"You already do that."
"I know. But I want to do more. Formalize it somehow." I pause, gathering my thoughts. "What if we set up some kind of program? A safe house, maybe. Or a fund to help women get back on their feet. Something that uses the club's resources to actually make a difference."
Levi is quiet for a moment, considering. "That would require buy-in from the brothers."
"I know. But I think they'd support it. After what happened with Cain—after seeing what he did—I think they understand why it matters."
"You'd be putting yourself in the spotlight. Making yourself a target for anyone who doesn't like what we do."
"I'm already a target. At least this way, the target would be worth it."
He studies my face, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiles.
"You've really thought about this."
"I have." I take his hand, lacing my fingers through his. "I spent three years being helpless. Being a victim. Now I havepower—real power—and I want to use it for something good. I want to make sure other women don't have to go through what I did."
"Then we'll make it happen." He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "Whatever you need. Whatever it takes. If this is important to you, it's important to me."
"Really?"
"Really." His eyes meet mine, steady and sure. "You're going to be my wife. Your dreams are my dreams. Your fights are my fights." He pulls me down for a soft kiss. "That's how this works."
I melt into him, overwhelmed by the certainty in his voice. The unwavering support. The knowledge that whatever I want to build, he'll help me build it.
"I love you," I whisper against his lips.
"I love you too. Always."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The next morning, I wake before him.
For a while, I just watch him sleep.
The hard lines of his face softened by rest.
The steady rise and fall of his chest.
The way his hand reaches for me even in unconsciousness, like being close to me is as natural as breathing.
Six months ago, I was broken. Terrified. Convinced I was worthless, that I would never escape the nightmare my life had become.
Now I'm lying in bed with my fiancé, wearing his ring, planning our future.
The transformation still amazes me sometimes.
