"Is everything okay?" I wipe my face, touching the cool, hammered metal of the ring.
"Yeah. Just club business. And Tristan..." Shane’s expression darkens, the soldier returning. "Tristan’s been off. Disappearing into the peaks for days at a time. He has found tracks near the old ridge. The girl the Costas are hunting... he’s going to go after her."
I nod, feeling the shift in the air. The next chapter of this family’s chaos is already written in the shadows of the mountains.
"Tristan is a tracker. He’ll find her. But whether he survives her is another story." Shane leans in, kissing my ear. "But tonight, you don't worry about Tristan. You wear the red dress. The one that barely covers your tits and shows exactly how I marked your thighs in here just now."
"The one that barely fits?"
"Exactly. The one that tells every man in that Lodge that your pussy belongs to the Sergeant. I want them to see the ring, and I want them to see the woman who tamed the monster."
The drive to the Grand Pine Lodge is a convoy of chrome and thunder. I am behind the wheel of Bumble—Maddie in the back, singing along to the radio—while Shane rides his Harley beside us, his hand occasionally reaching out to tap the glass of my window, a constant check-in.
Inside the Lodge, the atmosphere is electric. The Broken Halos MC owns this town, and when they gather, the world stays out of their way.
Logan Gunnar, the President, sits at the head of the long timber table. He looks exhausted but settled, his hand resting possessively on Savannah’s chair. She is glowing, her hand resting on her growing bump—the next generation of the club.
Austin and Courtney are laughing further down, their voices joining the cacophony of the brotherhood.
And then there is Tristan.
He sits in the corner, away from the light. He looks like a man haunted by a ghost he hasn't caught yet. He is nursing a whiskey, his eyes fixed on the moonlit peaks outside the window. He is a storm waiting to break.
"He looks worse," I whisper to Shane as we take our seats.
Shane follows my gaze, his jaw tightening. "He’s found her, Bee. He won't say it, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s already gone. He’s just waiting for the rain to start."
Shane turns back to me, dismissing the ghosts of the club. He takes my hand under the table, his thumb rubbing over the dark titanium of my ring.
"Focus on us, Bianca. Let Tristan handle his own mountain. You’re behind the patch now. You’ve got the Gunnars, the cousins, and the whole club standing between you and the world."
"That sounds like a lot of people to cook for," I joke softly.
"We'll make room." He leans in, his lips brushing my jaw. "You're thinking too loud again."
"Just thinking about how lucky I am."
"Wrong," he growls, his fingers sliding up my thigh under the silk of the red dress, finding my pussy already slick and dripping for him again. "I'm the lucky one. You walked into the lion's den, and instead of running, you moved in and claimed the lion."
"I did," I agree, kissing his scarred jaw. "And I'm never checking out."
"Is that a threat, Mrs. Gunnar?"
"It’s a promise, Sergeant."
Laughter swells around the table as the sun disappears completely behind the jagged silhouette of Grizzly Peak. I squeeze his hand, the metal of my ring pressing into his skin, a permanent brand of belonging. Philadelphia feels like a lifetime ago—a gray, lonely memory. Here, amidst the leather, the motorcycles, and the beautiful violence of the man I loved, I am not just safe.
I am home.
"I love you, Shane."
"Forever, Bee. Forever."
Forever looks like a mountain. It looks like a scar. It looks like the dark, possessive eyes of the man who would burn the world down to keep me warm. And as the fire crackles in the Lodge's hearth, I know one thing for certain.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
The End
