Samuel
I pull my bike into my usual spot and kill the engine. The moment I step inside, conversations falter.
Heads turn. A few of the guys nod. Others just watch. Someone says my road name under his breath, and another voice answers too quietly for me to make out. News travels fast in a club.
I keep my hands loose at my sides and my expression neutral.
Knox pushes off the bar and comes closer. “You know why you’re here.”
“I do.”
He studies me for a long second, measuring both my loyalty and restraint.
“You crossed lines,” he says. “Every one of them carried weight.”
“They did.” I meet his gaze. “But I’d do it all over again if I had to.”
Mouse shifts in his chair. “He showed up,” he says.
Knox glances at him briefly. Then his eyes come back to me. “You also saved my life,” he says.
I let that hang for a beat.
“I didn’t do it for the club. I did it because it was right.”
A muscle ticks in his neck. “You did it for Raven?”
“Yes.”
That’s the only answer I give him. It’s the only one that’s true.
Knox looks past me, like he’s checking something off in his head. “You’re married now.”
“I am.”
“That means whatever follows you follows her,” he says, stepping closer. “Whatever trouble you bring home lands at her door.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I meet his gaze without flinching. “She’s been living with danger her whole life because of the family she was born into.”
Knox watches me closely.
“I won’t add to it,” I say. “I’ll take the hit before it ever reaches her.”
Bishop shifts in his chair. “Our world doesn’t usually ask permission.”
I look at him. “I know.”
Knox studies me for a long moment, measuring the man standing in front of him against the one he remembers.
“You put yourself in the line of fire,” he says.
“Yes.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I did what I did. And I won’t apologize for it.”
He nods once, like that’s the answer he expected.
“We don’t have the luxury of tearing ourselves apart right now,” he says. “Ridgeback’s still out there. And I need my VP focused.”
I stay where I am and let him finish.
“Probation’s over,” Knox says. “Effective now.”
Mouse straightens slightly.
“You’re back where you belong,” he continues. “But you answer to me. You don’t freelance. And you don’t lie to me again.”
“I won’t.”
Knox studies me one last time, then steps back, giving me space.
“Good,” he says. “Because I need you.”
That’s it. No handshake. No speeches. Just something old and solid clicking back into place.
Knox motions toward the table. “Sit.”
We get into it. Ridgeback. Names. Routes. What’s moved, what hasn’t. I listen and add what I know. We cover what needs covering, then it slows naturally, the way it always does when the work’s finished.
Chairs scrape. Someone reaches for their keys. I stand and head for the door.
Outside, the air feels different.
I’m halfway to my bike when I hear Knox behind me. “Wolf.”
I turn.
He stops a few feet away, hands in his pockets. Not the president now. “You didn’t just save my life,” he says. “You saved hers.”
“I’d do it again.”
“I know. And I know I don’t say this enough.” He hesitates. “Thank you.”
The word lands heavier than anything said inside.
“For her,” he adds. “And for me.”
I meet his gaze. “I’ve got her. Always.”
Knox exhales slowly. “I know you do.”
We stand there a moment longer than necessary, then he steps back.
“Go home,” he says. “Your wife’s waiting.”
I pull my helmet on and kick the bike to life.
Not because of doubt. Because the weight I’ve been carrying finally lets go and I don’t quite trust the space it leaves behind.
I pull over once and check my phone, my thumb hovering before I finally type.
Me: I want to take you out tonight. Somewhere nice. To celebrate being boring and married.
It takes a minute to get a reply.
Raven: Can we maybe stay in instead? I’m not feeling great.
Me: Of course. I’ll grab takeout.
Raven: Okay. That sounds perfect.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and steer the bike onto the road. The night settles in around me. The kind of stillness that feels earned after everything that’s happened the past few weeks.
As if the dark itself has decided to let us rest.