10. Diesel
Diesel
Epilogue
The mountain air is crisp as hell, a cold bite that seeps through the leather, but the warmth at my back is a furnace warding it all off.
Autumn has painted our surroundings in fire—blazing oranges, deep reds, a whole world burning up just to be beautiful one last time before the snow starts creeping in.
The scent of woodsmoke and damp earth fills the air, a clean, sharp perfume. The bike purrs beneath us, a steady vibration thrumming up through my bones as we eat up the winding road.
“Easy on the curves,” Ruby’s voice is a murmur pressed directly against my spine, her breath a warm ghost through the thin cotton of my shirt. “The leaves are wet.”
A grin spreads across my face, so wide it presses against the inside of my helmet.
My careful girl. Always looking out for me, even when I’m the one holding the handles.
I can feel the entire length of her pressed against me, her thighs snug against my hips, her chest against my back.
Her arms are locked around my waist, a permanent, welcome weight that feels more like home than any place ever has.
But the real proof isn’t just her grip. It’s the heavy, patched leather cut she’s wearing—my cut—swallowing her small frame, the Steelwood MC patch a declaration to the world.
It’s the sight of her left hand, resting possessively on my thigh, where a simple silver band catches the low, golden sun.
Mine. She’s proudly, unmistakably mine. The sight of it still sends a jolt of pure, disbelieving joy through me.
This peace, this deep-down, settled rightness… It’s a life I never thought I’d get to have. A quiet miracle roaring on two wheels.
A flash of black and chrome appears in my mirror, coming up fast like a predator. A sleek, stupidly expensive car, all polished arrogance. It rides our ass for a second, too close, before whipping around us on a blind curve, the engine a disrespectful whine.
As it passes, I catch a glimpse of the driver—some suit with a phone pressed to his ear, utterly oblivious to the world outside his tinted windows. He doesn’t even glance our way. My middle finger comes up on instinct, a silent promise lodged in the gesture.
Only I’m allowed to scare my girl during our rides.
“It’s okay,” Ruby says, her voice calm and laced with a smile I can hear. She gives my stomach a gentle, reassuring pat. “Just let him go. I promised Hammer and Ghost we wouldn’t be late.”
Right. Willow Perk. She’d promised them coffee, playing den mother to the most dangerous men in three counties. Ghost claims he just wants to borrow their Wi-Fi, but I don’t dare question what he plans on doing with it.
Ruby’s right. It’s okay. Everything is okay.
I twist the throttle, the bike answering with a confident growl that echoes in the quiet valley.
The road opens up ahead, leading down toward town, toward our life—a life of shared coffee, club brothers who’d become family, and this woman who trusted me with her whole heart.
She leans with me into the next curve, her body moving in perfect sync with mine, trusting me completely.
And as we ride into the golden light of the afternoon, her warmth solid against my back, that’s all that matters. That’s everything.