Epilogue 2
Autumn
I stare out the window of Margaret’s private sitting room—my old room now, technically, though that still feels strange to think about.
The late October sun casts long shadows across The Manor’s restored grounds, where carved pumpkins line the paths leading to the rose garden.
Through the antique glass, I can see the transformation we’ve worked so hard to achieve these past two years.
We have repaired any wear and tear in the house; the gardens are blooming, and we even made the tunnels safe again.
Light plays across the vintage lace of my dress, the scattered crystals twinkling like fireflies in the dusk—a fitting tribute to the nickname that started everything.
Two years ago, I never would have imagined this moment, never would have dreamed that the mysterious biker at a masquerade ball would become my everything.
“Stop fidgeting with the dress, dear,” Margaret says, her practiced hands smoothing my veil into place. Her eyes meet mine in the ornate mirror. “Every Montgomery bride has stood before this mirror, wrestling with butterflies. The Manor makes us all a little nervous on our big day.”
“Please tell me you’re not actually nervous,” Skylar laughs from where she’s arranging my bouquet—roses from our garden mixed with deep purple calla lilies. “After everything you and Colt have been through, walking down the aisle should be easy.”
The distant rumble of motorcycles cuts through our laughter, and my heart leaps.
Through the window, I watch as the Midnight Riders roll in, their bikes gleaming in the fall sunlight. They’re an impressive sight as they line their motorcycles up in formation, chrome flashing in the sun.
Some of the early-arriving guests pause to watch, but there’s no fear in their expressions now, only appreciation.
The Riders have merged two worlds in a way that shouldn’t work but absolutely does—each of them in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, but instead of the traditional vest, their leather cuts sit snugly over pressed white shirts, MC patches proudly on display.
The blend of traditional tailoring with rough leather creates something entirely new, but that feels right for the occasion.
“I remember being terrified at the masquerade,” I say, smoothing my hands over my silk dress.
Skylar grins, adjusting a stray curl in my veil. “From town menace to local heroes. Who would’ve thought? Though I seem to remember someone insisting there was more to their story once she started digging.” She winks. “Guess your journalist instincts were right about that one.”
“All the rumors about the Midnight Riders had me jumping at shadows, convinced they were trouble. Now look at them. They’ve changed how this whole town sees them,” I say softly, watching another group of bikes roll in. “The mentorship program, the second-chance initiative at The Manor. They were doing good all along but people, including me, couldn’t see past their reputation.”
“Look at you,” Skylar teases. “The Midnight Riders’ biggest defender. Although I suppose falling in love with one of them has something to do with that.”
“And to think I once worried about having them around The Manor,” Margaret says with a knowing smile. “Now we couldn’t run the place without them. Three more of our program graduates just got approved for permanent positions last week.”
A knock at the door interrupts us. “Everyone decent?” Hawk’s gruff voice carries through the wood.
“Come in,” Margaret calls, giving my veil one final adjustment.
Hawk enters, looking surprisingly comfortable in his suit despite the leather cut over it. His eyes soften when he sees me, and for a moment, I glimpse the tenderness these supposedly hardened men try so hard to hide.
“You look beautiful,” he says, clearing his throat. “Ghost’s a lucky man.”
“We both are,” I reply, touched by the emotion in his voice.
Hawk nods, then glances at his watch. “Everything’s ready. The boys are keeping Ghost from wearing a path in the rose garden. You want to do this thing?”
My heart thunders as we make our way through The Manor’s restored hallways. The place is transformed—elegant Halloween decorations mixed with classic wedding touches, creating something uniquely us. Jack-o’-lanterns flicker in alcoves, white roses, and black ribbons adorn the banisters, and floating candles cast a warm glow everywhere.
The walls that once held secrets now hold hope. Every weekend, the Manor hosts events for the community.
The tunnels that once terrified me are now part of historical tours. And the rooms that were empty now house people building new lives, thanks to the MC’s second-chance program.
At the garden doors, I catch my reflection in the glass. No mask this time, no mysteries or secrets between us anymore. Just me, just us, just this perfect moment.
“Ready?” Hawk asks quietly, offering his arm.
The music changes, and the doors open. The rose garden is magical in the late afternoon light, restored to its former glory and then some.
Fairy lights twinkle among the blooms, and carved pumpkins line the aisle. Our guests rise—a strange and wonderful combination of family, MC members, town officials, Manor staff, and friends.
The MC members are standing tall, their usual gruffness softened by genuine joy. Margaret is in the front row, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief while Skylar holds her hand.
Hawk walks me down the aisle. And there, waiting at the end, is Colt. He’s wearing black suit pants, a white shirt with his leather cut over it, just like his brothers, but somehow he makes it look regal.
His blue eyes lock with mine, and that familiar smirk plays at his lips—the same one I fell in love with at the masquerade. But his eyes... God, his eyes are full of such love it makes my heart ache.
When we reach Colt, Hawk places my hand in his, then steps back. But before he does, he gives Colt that look—that silent communication they’ve perfected over years of brotherhood. In it, I see approval, pride, and love.
“Hi, Ghost,” I whisper as Colt’s hands close around mine.
His smirk deepens. “Hi, Firefly.”
The ceremony passes in a blur of emotion and promises. We speak our vows—words about finding light in the darkness, about choosing each other every day, about building something beautiful from ruins.
When Colt slides the ring onto my finger, his hands are steady but his voice is rough with emotion.
“Two years ago,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear, “a stubborn journalist in a mask walked into my life and turned everything upside down. She saw past the leather, past the rumors, past every wall I’d built. She saw me.”
His thumb brushes across my knuckles. “And I saw her—my Firefly, bringing light to all my dark places.”
I blink back tears as I place his ring on his finger. “And I found my Ghost,” I reply, my voice shaky but sure. “The man who taught me that sometimes the scariest stories have the most beautiful endings.”
“I love you,” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss me, and the garden erupts in cheers and the distinctive sound of motorcycle engines revving in celebration.
The reception flows seamlessly from ceremony to celebration, just like we planned. The restored ballroom where we first danced now sparkles with hundreds of tiny lights, the elegant chandeliers draped with subtle cobwebs that catch the light.
Each table features carved pumpkins alongside elegant flower arrangements, mixing The Manor’s spooky charm with wedding elegance.
The MC’s wedding gift reveals their softer side—a handcrafted leather-bound album filled with photographs and newspaper clippings chronicling our story, from that first masquerade ball to today.
The final page holds a key to a cabin near The Manor’s lake, restored by the MC themselves.
“Everyone needs a getaway,” Hawk says gruffly, though his eyes are suspiciously bright. “Somewhere just for you two.”
Colt’s arm tightens around my waist as we flip through the pages. “You knew about this?” I ask him.
“I need to keep a few secrets, if only to keep you guessing,” he murmurs against my ear.
As the night progresses, I find myself watching him move through the crowd. He shifts seamlessly between his worlds now—discussing Manor business with Margaret one minute, planning MC rides the next, then turning to welcome the mayor with the easy grace of someone who’s finally found his place.
The dance floor fills as the band plays, and I smile watching Hawk awkwardly twirl Margaret while Skylar teaches some of the younger MC members proper dance steps.
More guests arrive for the public portion of the evening—the whole town has been invited to join the celebration after dinner.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Colt asks, appearing at my side and pulling me close as another song begins.
“I was thinking about masks,” I say, running my fingers along his collar. “And how far we’ve come since that first night.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you in that mask, lurking in the garden with a camera in one hand.”
“Trouble?” I arch an eyebrow. “I prefer to think of it as journalistic curiosity.”
“Call it what you want, Firefly,” he murmurs, spinning me under the chandelier’s light. “But it led us here.”
I lean into him, savoring the moment. The Manor hums with life around us—music, laughter, the blend of our two worlds celebrating together. The old house has never felt more alive, more full of purpose.
“No regrets?” I ask softly.
Colt turns me to face him fully, his blue eyes intense. “Not a single one. You’re my home, Autumn Montgomery. Everything else—The Manor, the MC, this town—it’s just extra.”
“Even when I’m chasing down dangerous stories?”
His smirk deepens. “Especially then. Though I prefer being your backup these days instead of your subject.”
I rise on my toes to kiss him, not caring that our guests are watching. We’ve earned this moment, this happiness, this future we’re building together.
As we break apart, the opening notes of a familiar song fill the air—the same one that was playing during the masquerade when we first met.
Colt’s smile turns wicked. “Dance with me, Firefly?”
“Always,” I reply, letting him pull me close.
Margaret catches my eye from across the room where she’s chatting with town council members about The Manor’s latest restoration project.
She gives me a knowing smile, one that says she knew all along this was meant to be. Beside her, Skylar raises her champagne glass in a silent toast, while Phoenix and the other MC members maintain their protective positions around the room, watching over their family as always.
The Manor’s grand ballroom sparkles around us, restored to its former glory but with our touch—elegant yet edgy, traditional yet uniquely us.
Like the house itself, we’ve taken something old and made it new, keeping the best parts while creating something entirely our own.
As Colt holds me close, swaying to the music, I think about all the stories these walls have witnessed. Ghost stories, love stories, stories of redemption and second chances. But this one—our story—might be my favorite of all.
“What are you thinking about now?” Colt murmurs against my hair.
“About how sometimes the best stories are the ones you don’t see coming,” I say, resting my head against his chest. “The ones that start with a masquerade ball and end with...”
“End?” He pulls back just enough to raise an eyebrow at me. “Firefly, we’re just getting started.”
And as we dance beneath the starlight streaming through The Manor’s windows, I know he’s right.
This isn’t an ending at all—it’s another beginning. Just like the countless others we’ve shared, and all the ones yet to come.
Because some love stories don’t end with ‘happily ever after.’ The best ones keep going, keep growing, keep finding new ways to surprise you.
Like ours does.
I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for reading Midnight Rebel. My goal with writing is to lift your spirits and make you smile. I hope you enjoyed Colt and Autumn’s story.