Chapter 6 Bones
BONES
Six Months Later
Devil’s Bar looks better than it did before Summit burned it to the ground.
That’s the thing about trying to destroy something—sometimes you just give people a reason to rebuild it stronger. The main room is twice the size it was before, with a proper stage for live music and enough space that we’re not licking other people’s armpits every Friday night.
We even have a back patio now. With proper seating and string lights and everything.
It’s almost civilized.
I’m standing near the bar, watching the grand reopening party hit full swing, and trying to remember the last time I felt this .
. . normal. The place is packed—brothers, old ladies, locals who’ve supported us through everything, even some of the business owners from downtown who stood with us when Summit tried to squeeze them out.
“Looking good, brother.” Tank appears at my elbow, two beers in hand. He passes me one. “All that manual labor paid off.”
“Fuck off,” I say, but there’s no heat in it.
He’s not wrong, though. Six months of construction work—framing, drywall, electrical, plumbing, all of it—has left me with calluses on top of calluses and a lot less time to brood over shit I can’t change.
Like the fact that I haven’t seen Emma in person since I dropped her off in Brooklyn Heights and walked away.
“You think Stone’s gonna give you your old job back?” Tank asks, taking a pull from his beer.
“Nope.”
“You gonna ask for it?”
“Nope.”
Tank studies me for a moment. “You good with that?”
Am I? Six months ago, getting stripped of my intelligence officer position felt like getting my guts ripped out.
That role was everything—it’s how I contributed, how I proved my worth, how I kept people safe.
Losing it was Stone’s way of saying I’d fucked up so badly that trust had to be earned back from scratch.
But working construction, rebuilding this place with my own hands alongside the brothers? It’s shown me something I’d forgotten. The club isn’t just about positions and patches. It’s about showing up. Doing the work. Being there when it matters.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “I’m good with it.”
Tank claps me on the shoulder. “Good. Because Duck needs help with the kegs and I outrank you big time.”
I flip him off, but I head over to help Duck anyway.
The last six months have been . . . complicated.
After I got back from New York—after I faced Stone and took my punishment—the club went to war.
Not loud, not public, but effective. Coordinated hits on Summit’s assets across three counties.
Equipment destroyed, shipments intercepted, key players suddenly finding themselves under federal investigation for things that definitely weren’t coincidental.
Hawk coordinated most of it. Axel handled the intel side since I wasn’t allowed near it. But every brother participated. We hit them hard enough to make them think twice about coming at us again.
And it worked. Sort of.
Summit’s been quiet. The federal investigation is ongoing—Josie’s been working with the prosecutors, though I’m not allowed to know the details anymore.
The development scheme that would’ve displaced half the east side got shelved.
The city council members who were taking bribes either resigned or went real quiet.
But Summit’s like a cockroach. You can stomp on it, poison it, burn down its nest, and somehow it survives. They’re lying low right now, licking their wounds, but they’ll be back. They always come back—they’ve invested too much time and money not to.
Which is why tonight matters.
Devil’s Bar reopening isn’t just about having a place to drink. It’s a statement. We’re still here. Still standing. You tried to burn us down and we came back stronger.
“Speech time!” Maggie calls out, and the crowd starts to quiet.
Kya steps onto the small stage we built—the same stage where local bands will play on weekends, where she’ll probably strong-arm all of us into karaoke eventually—and grabs the microphone.
Lee’s standing at the edge of the stage, grinning up at his old lady.
He mouths something that makes her laugh even as she tries to look serious.
My chest tightens at their joy. They fit together, those two—like puzzle pieces that finally found their match after years of being in the wrong box.
I’ve seen it a hundred times before with other brothers. Hawk with Andi. Tank with Ginger. Axel with Poppy. Even Cash with Mercy. One by one, they all find their person.
I found mine thirteen years ago. She just hasn’t accepted it yet.
And while I probably sound insane for my willingness to wait her out instead of moving on, I don’t really give a fuck.
I’ve spent my entire adult life wanting only one woman.
The thought of putting someone else on the back of my bike, of calling anyone else ‘mine’—it’s not even a question. There’s only ever been her.
“All right, all right, settle down,” Kya says, and the room gradually quiets. “I’m going to keep this short because you came here to party, not to listen to me get all sappy.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
It feels like forever ago that Lee and I woke up in the early hours to a call telling us this place had gone up in flames.
” Her voice loses the humor. “I watched something I’d poured my heart and soul into—an institution in this town and a second home to a lot of us—burn to the ground because some corporate assholes thought they could scare us out of our own town. ”
The room is dead silent now.
“They thought burning this place would break us,” she continues, voice stronger now. “They thought we’d give up. Run away. Sell out.” She shakes her head, a fierce smile spreading across her face. “Clearly, they don’t know Stoneheart.”
The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles. I raise my beer in salute, watching as Kya’s eyes scan the room, taking in all the faces of people who helped make this happen.
“We’re all stubborn as hell. You knock us down, we get back up. You burn our bar, we build it better. You threaten our people, we stand together.”
Mrs. Yu from the laundromat is crying. Miguel, who runs the kitchen here, has his arm around his wife. Half the room is nodding along.
“This bar is more than just a business to me. It’s where I met my old man—” She points at Lee, who raises his beer in salute.
“It’s where we celebrated after Poppy and Axel’s daughter was born.
It’s where I’ve served drinks to the people I grew up knowing, where I’ve broken up fights and thrown out drunks and listened to more bad singing than any human should have to endure. ”
More laughter, this time mixed with cheers.
“So tonight, we’re not just reopening a bar.
We’re celebrating the strength of our community.
” She raises her glass. “To you, the people of Stoneheart. Thank you for rebuilding this place with me. For showing up, day after day, to hammer nails and paint walls and haul furniture. For donating money and time and skills when you had every reason to walk away.”
She pauses, emotion catching in her throat.
“And to the Stoneheart MC, who’ve stood by me from the beginning.
Who made sure we had security during construction, who handled the insurance company when they tried to screw us, who’ve been family to me since I was a kid.
” Her eyes find Stone’s in the crowd, and he gives her a small nod. “Cheers!”
“CHEERS!” the room roars back.
The music cranks back up—some classic rock that Duck probably picked—and the party resumes.
I watch Kya step down from the stage, immediately getting swept into Lee’s arms for a kiss that has half the room whistling.
When they break apart, both of them are grinning like idiots.
It’s good to see Lee happy. After everything that went down with Summit, with Emma, with all of it—he deserves this. They both do.
I drain my beer and head for the bar, needing a refill and some space from the crowd. Mercy’s behind the counter, expertly pouring drinks and taking orders like always.
“Another?” she asks when she sees me.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She pops the cap off a fresh bottle and slides it across to me. “You did good work here, Bones.”
I shrug. “We all did.”
“True. But you were here every day. Rain, shine, whatever.” She leans on the bar, fixing me with that too-perceptive look she’s got. “You’ve been different since you got back from New York.”
I take a long pull of my beer. Mercy’s good people—Cash’s old lady now, officially—but she’s also Kya’s friend, who’s Emma’s friend. And I’m not about to spill my guts and have it get back to Emma through the grapevine.
“Lost my position,” I say. “Changes a man’s perspective.”
“It’s more than that.” Mercy studies me. “You’re quieter. More focused. Less likely to start shit.”
“I still start shit.”
“Not like before.” She tilts her head. “One of my earliest memories of you is when you knew Lee was into Kya and decided to hit on her right in front of him.”
A grin pulls at my mouth as I remember how easy he was to rile. “Worked, though. Didn’t it?”
“Sure did.” Her smile turns into curiosity. “Although I never could figure out why you pretended you didn’t know who she was—or who Emma was, for that matter.”
I shrug. “To fuck with his head.”
“Hey.” Her expression shifts from amused to serious and she leans a little closer. “Whatever happened between you and Emma—”
“Is between me and Emma.”
The words come out flat, final. Not angry, just done. Mercy holds up her hands in surrender.
“Fair enough. Just letting you know, Cash and I are here if you need to talk.”
“Appreciate it.” I take a swig of beer. “Where is Cash anyway? Haven’t seen him for at least an hour.”