The hush that falls over the room is immediate. It’s packed. Half the town is here—gossip travels faster than a turbocharged engine in Pine Valley, and the rumors about the "MC Enforcer and the Environmental Lawyer" have been fueling the coffee shop chatter for weeks.
I see them all. Mayor Thompson, sweating behind his podium. The town council, a mix of old money and nervous business owners. And there, sitting in the front row with a smirk that I want to wipe off with a tire iron, is Sean Oswald. He stands as we approach, buttoning his expensive suit jacket. He looks at Cassandra, ignoring me entirely. Mistake number one.
"Ms. Preston," Oswald says, his voice oily. "I’m surprised to see you. I assumed, given the… conflict of interest revelations, you’d be halfway to the city by now. Hiding your head in shame."
Cassandra doesn’t flinch. She steps forward, her chin lifting. It’s a beautiful thing to watch. She’s not hiding behind me; she’s standing beside me.
"I have nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Oswald," she says, her voice projecting clear and cold. "I have officially recused myself from the legal proceedings and filed the paperwork with the State Bar to ensure ethical transparency. I am no longer here as a paid representative of the preservation society—who, by the way, have reached a private settlement with the MC regarding the nesting grounds. I’m here today as a private citizen and a consultant who knows exactly how you’ve been trying to manipulate this town’s zoning for your own corporate interests."
A murmur ripples through the crowd. I grin. That’s my girl.
I steer her to the seats behind the podium where Logan, Austin, and Tristan are already waiting. Logan gives me a subtle nod. He knows the stakes. This isn’t just about the Outfitters expansion anymore; it’s about the Search and Rescue Center. It’s about legitimacy.
The meeting drags. Procedural nonsense, zoning codes, variance requests. I sit with my arm draped over the back of Cassandra’s chair, my fingers idlytracing the curve of her neck. It’s a claim. A mark. Everyone in the room can see it. She’s with the Enforcer.
Finally, Thompson clears his throat. "We’ll now hear the final arguments regarding the permit application for the Peak Wilderness Outfitters expansion and the attached Crisis Response facility."
Oswald stands up immediately. "Mr. Mayor, this application is a farce. We all know what this is. It’s a biker gang trying to expand their criminal footprint under the guise of community service. And they used a honeypot scheme"—he gestures vaguely at Cassandra—"to manipulate the legal process. The relationship between Mr. Gunnar and Ms. Preston proves that this entire project is built on deception."
The room goes quiet. The accusation hangs there, ugly and sharp. I stand up.
I don’t rush. I unbutton mycut, letting it hang loose, showing the plain black t-shirt underneath. I don’t walk to the podium like a lawyer. I walk to the center of the floor like a man who owns the ground he steps on.
"Deception," I repeat, my voice low, but it carries. I turn to face the crowd, then look directly at Oswald. "You want to talk about my relationship with Ms. Preston? Fine. Let’s talk about it."
I look back at Cassandra. She’s watching me, hands clasped tight. She trusts me. That trust hits harder than a lead pipe to the chest.
"I didn’t seduce her to get a permit," I say, addressing the town. "I pursued her because from the moment I saw her, I knew I wasn’t letting her go. Yeah, we started out on opposite sides. She fought me tooth and nail. She did her job better than anyone I’ve ever seen."
I turn to the council. "But this building? The Search and Rescue Center? That’s not a trick. You people know these mountains. You know the winters. You know how many tourists get lost up on the ridge every year. Broken Halos has been pulling people out of those ravines for three generations. We’re just asking for a place to put the gear and a roof over the heads of the guys risking their lives to do it."
I pause, letting the silence stretch.
"So if you want to vote against the safety of this town because I’ve claimed the best woman in it, go ahead. Put it on the record that you’re willing to let people die just because you’re scared of who’s sleeping in my bed. She’s a Gunnar now. And we protect our own."
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence. I didn't just admit to a relationship; I dropped the claim in front of the mayor, my club, and the entire voting populace of Pine Valley. Cassandrastiffens in her seat. Her breath turns to lead. But she doesn’t pull away. She leans in.
Mayor Thompson clears his throat, adjusting his tie, his face flushing a mottled red. "Well. That was… candid. Mr. Oswald, do you have a counter-argument regarding the structural zoningvariances? Or are we done discussing Mr. Gunnar’s personal life?"
Oswald opens his mouth, ready to object, but Cassandra steps forward, sliding a certified document onto the Mayor’s desk.
"Don't bother, Sean," she says, her voice like tempered steel. "That’s the signed dissolution of the contract with the Preservation Society. They’ve accepted a private endowment from the Gunnar Estate to establish a permanent wildlife sanctuary on the eastern ridge. You no longer have a client in this room. You have no standing, no injunction, and no reason to remain in Pine Valley."
Oswald stares at the paper, then at the stone-faced wall of Gunnars behind me. The realization that the legal trap has closed washes over him. He snaps his briefcase shut, the sound a definitive 'click' of defeat.
"No further questions."
The vote is unanimous. The gavel bangs. We win.
The celebration is chaos—handshakes, back slaps from Logan, a rare grin from Austin. But I can’t focus on any of it. The adrenaline is fading, replaced by a starvation that’s been gnawing at me since we walked through those doors. I need to get her out of here. I need to get her alone.
I grab Cassandra’s hand and pull her through the crowd. "We’re leaving."
"Chase, we should stay for the?—"
"No," I growl, pushing through the double doors into the cool mountain air. "I played nice. I made the speech. Ishowed up. Now I’m taking you home."
I lift her onto the back of my bike before she can argue, strapping her helmet on with hands that aren't quite steady. She sees the look in my eyes—the unyielding need—and her arguments die in her throat. She just nods, cheeks flushed pink.
