Stone walked in first, expression unreadable.
Then Grim. Then Havoc. Then Ledger. Then Fish.
But not Rook.
Avery’s heart stopped.
Lacey grabbed her hand. “Wait.”
Stone scanned the room, then nodded toward the hallway.
Avery turned.
Rook stood there.
Alive. Whole. Eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in the room.
Avery didn’t think. She didn’t breathe. She just ran.
Rook caught her mid-stride, arms wrapping around her, lifting her off the ground. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling the scent of leather, smoke, and him.
“You’re okay,” she whispered, voice shaking.
He held her tighter. “I told you I’d come back.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him. “Don’t scare me like that.”
His thumb brushed her cheek. “I won’t.”
Behind them, the sweetbutts exchanged looks: impressed, amused, satisfied.
Tessa smirked. “Well. That settles that.”
Avery didn’t care.
She kissed Rook, soft, desperate, relieved, and he kissed her back like he’d been waiting all night.
When they finally broke apart, Noah rested his forehead against hers.
“You’re mine,” he whispered.
Avery smiled. “And you’re off the market.”
Rook blinked, then grinned, slow and dangerous. “Good.”
Chapter 29
Avery
The clubhouse pulsed with a different kind of energy tonight.
Not the rowdy, chaotic noise she’d heard before, not the drunken laughter or Havoc’s wild stories or the thrum of music vibrating through the walls. This was something deeper. Heavier. Earned.
Victory.
The Saints had returned from their strike, and the air felt charged, alive, humming with adrenaline and relief. Men clapped each other on the back, voices low but warm, the kind of laughter that came from surviving something together.
Avery stood near the bar, wrapped in Rook’s hoodie, the sleeves too long, the fabric smelling likehim. She watched the room with wide eyes, taking in every detail.
