Chapter Thirteen #2
The strange part was how little his mention of the betrayal affected me now. The pain that had once felt like shards of glass beneath my skin had dulled to nothing more than a distant memory.
“This has nothing to do with you and Jade,” I said honestly. “This is about me finding where I belong.”
His expression hardened, patience evaporating.
“Where you belong? With a bunch of ex-cons? You think your career will survive this association?” He glanced around with obvious disdain.
“The tenure committee will laugh you out of academia once they find out where you’ve been spending your time.
Besides, how the hell does a place like this get to be next to a school?
Or children in general? There’s got to be a guy in here guilty of stuff against kids. ”
And just like that, my patience snapped.
“Get the fuck out of here.” My voice didn’t sound like myself.
I kind of sounded like Hannah did sometimes.
When she was particularly put out with one of the club…
uh… whores. I still stumbled over the word but the fact was, women enjoyed sex as much as men and there were women here who slept with any available man she wanted to.
And the guys generally pampered them. Though, sometimes the old ladies had to put their foot down. That’s when hair and makeup got ruined.
I turned to go, but Eric called out again. “Wait, Mia! I’m sorry, OK? But you gotta admit, the optics look bad.”
“I don’t have to admit anything. These guys protect women and children. They don’t prey on them. And you don’t get to come to our home and threaten anyone here.”
“That wasn’t a threat,” he snapped. “It’s reality. I’m trying to save you from yourself. You’re having some sort of… of crisis or breakdown. First you disappear, then you turn up living in a biker compound? People are talking, Mia.”
I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. After walking through literal fire, after watching a man die saving my life, the idea that I should care about gossip seemed ludicrous. “Let them talk,” I said. “I survived something you know nothing about. The experience changed me and what matters to me.”
Confusion flickered across his face. “What are you talking about? What happened?”
Before I could decide how much to reveal, movement from the direction of the clubhouse caught my attention.
Oktober emerged into the sunlight, his long stride purposeful as he crossed the courtyard.
He wore his cut over a simple black T-shirt, his hair pulled back in its usual messy bun, and even from a distance, I could see the intensity in his eyes as he registered the situation at the gate.
Eric followed my gaze, his posture stiffening as Oktober approached. “Is that him?” he asked, his voice dropping to a hiss. “The guy you left me for?”
“I didn’t leave you for anyone,” I corrected him. “You left me when you decided to sleep with my best friend in my bed. Oktober came after.”
Something desperate flashed across Eric’s face. He reached through the bars suddenly, grabbing my wrist and pulling me closer to the gate. “Just listen to me. Five minutes. Alone. That’s all I’m asking.”
His grip was tight enough to hurt, his fingers digging into the soft skin of my inner wrist. Before I could react, Hannah moved in beside us. She placed a firm hand on Eric’s wrist, her grip visibly tightening until his fingers loosened around my wrist.
“That’s not how men treat women here,” she said, her tone pleasant but her eyes glacial. “For any reason.”
Eric released me instantly, stepping back as if burned. I rubbed my wrist, a red mark already forming where his fingers had been.
Oktober reached us then, his body radiating controlled power as he positioned himself slightly behind me, close enough to support, but deliberately not inserting himself between Eric and me. His hand came to rest gently on the small of my back, a silent reminder of his presence.
“Everything all right here, K?tzchen?” he asked, his voice deceptively casual though I could hear the undercurrent of tension.
“Perfectly fine,” I replied, leaning subtly into his touch.
Eric’s eyes darted between us, his face flushing darker. “So this is it?” he demanded. “You’re throwing away your career, your reputation, everything we built together for this?” He gestured dismissively at Oktober.
“Be careful,” Ada warned quietly from beside me.
Oktober remained perfectly calm, his thumb tracing small circles against my spine. “You know your place in my life,” he said, looking down at me with an expression that made my heart stutter, “but if you need time to reconsider his claim, I’m willing to give you all the time you need.”
I blinked, momentarily hurt by what sounded like indifference. Did he think I might actually go back to Eric? After everything we’d been through?
Then Oktober smiled that slow, confident smile that never failed to make my knees weak and added, “I’m comfortable letting you choose because I know you’ll choose me.
Not him.” His voice dropped to a playful growl that only I could hear.
“Otherwise, I would simply toss you over my shoulder and take you home. End of discussion.”
Relief and love surged through me so powerfully I couldn’t contain it. I threw myself into Oktober’s arms, feeling them close around me instantly, solid and secure. Lightly muffled by Oktober’s chest, I addressed Eric one last time.
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” I told him, my voice steady and clear. “With exactly who I want to be with. Please don’t come back here again.”
Eric stood motionless for several seconds, something like genuine grief finally breaking through his anger. “You’ve changed,” he said quietly.
I nodded against Oktober’s chest. “Yes. I have.”
“Why?” His question was more of a demand. “Why this guy?”
I took a moment. Because, honestly, why Oktober? I looked up at him and all the emotion roiling inside of me quieted. Stilled. Oktober gave me a smile so filled with affection and…
Yeah. I had my answer.
“Because, Eric. Oktober loves me.”
“I love you too!” he shouted. “I told you that every day. Several times a day!”
I gave him a bright smile. Not to emphasize my next words, but because genuine happiness bloomed inside me. Because I knew Oktober did, in fact, love me. “Then you slept with my best friend.”
“I think it’s best if you leave,” Oktober offered softly to Eric. “Mia’s made her choice. If she changes her mind and wants to go back to you, she’s always free to.” He gave me a wink. “Mainly because I know I’ll keep her happy enough to never want to leave me.”
Eric gave me an angry look before stomping back to his car. We watched in silence as he drove away. Only when the car disappeared around the bend did I feel the tension leave my body, my shoulders dropping as I exhaled fully for what felt like the first time since Griffin’s call.
Oktober’s arms tightened around me. “You OK, K?tzchen?”
I looked up at him, at this man who had walked through fire for me, who held me like I was precious but never like I was fragile. “I’m perfect,” I answered truthfully. And in that moment, surrounded by the family I’d found in the ashes of my old life, I absolutely was.
* * *
Later that night, the bedside lamp in our bedroom cast our shadows large against the wall.
I snuggled against Oktober’s chest, following the lines of one of his tattoos with my fingertip, occasionally pausing over the still-healing patches of skin from the burns near his shoulders.
Outside our apartment window, the compound had settled into its nighttime rhythm.
“You’ve been quiet since dinner,” Oktober observed, his fingers combing gently through my hair. “Still thinking about today?”
I nodded, my cheek rubbing against his warm skin. “It felt strange seeing him again, and it hasn’t really been that long since the shit hit the fan. Kind of felt like looking at a photograph of someone I used to know.”
Oktober remained silent, giving me space to gather my thoughts. That was something I’d come to appreciate about him. He never rushed me to conclusions or tried to tell me what I should be feeling.
“I think I expected to feel… something,” I continued. “Anger? Hurt? Maybe even a twinge of what I used to feel for him. But there was nothing. Just this overwhelming certainty that he doesn’t matter anymore.” I propped myself up on one elbow to look at Oktober’s face. “Is that cold of me?”
His blue eyes studied me in the dim light. “Nein, K?tzchen. That’s freedom. True freedom.”
I let his words sink in. When Eric had grabbed my wrist, I’d been annoyed rather than frightened or hurt.
The man who had once been very important to me now seemed small and desperate, clinging to a version of me that no longer existed.
It also brought home how much I didn’t know about love.
Because I realized now that, whatever I’d felt for Eric in the past couldn’t compare with the firestorm of love burning inside me for Oktober.
Not because we had history together or even because of the shared trauma and the fierce protectiveness Oktober had shown me when we literally ran for our lives.
Because Oktober saw me. Not only did he protect me, but he gave me a safe place to find myself.
He didn’t push me in the direction he wanted me to go.
Instead, he showed me the way and let me make my own decision.
And, honestly, the decisions were easy. Oktober made me want to stay with him.
Not because I needed him or even because I thought he needed me.
I wanted to be with him because whenever I saw him, whenever he saw me, the first thing either of us did was… smile.
“I’m gonna sound like an idiot, but I feel like the fire burned away everything that wasn’t essential,” I said softly. “I look at my old life and I can’t believe how much energy I wasted on things that don’t matter.”
“What matters now?” Oktober asked, his voice low and gentle in the quiet room.
“This,” I said immediately. “Us. The work at Haven. Helping those women and children rebuild their lives. Living in a way that honors what we survived. What Noose gave us.” At the mention of the man I’d barely gotten to know I felt my throat close up. He’d saved me. And he’d done it deliberately.
Oktober caught my hand, pressing it flat against his heart. “He would be proud of you,” he said, his accent thickening with emotion. “The way you’ve embraced this life. How you help others without judgment. He always saw the good in people, even when they couldn’t see it themselves.”
“I wish I’d had more time to know him,” I whispered, the familiar ache of guilt and grief rising in my chest.
“You carry him with you,” Oktober said. “Every time you step up for someone who needs protection. Every time you choose courage over fear.” He kissed my fingertips. “Just as I do.”
We lay in comfortable silence for several minutes. When Oktober finally shifted, easing me off his chest so he could sit up, I felt his loss immediately. But I should have known he’d have a good reason for leaving our bed.
“I have something for you,” he said, reaching toward the floor beside the bed. “I’ve been waiting for the right time.”
He produced a carefully folded bundle of black leather that I hadn’t noticed him bring into the bedroom.
My breath caught as he unfolded it, revealing a leather vest similar to his own but cut for a woman’s frame.
As he turned it over, the Kiss of Death insignia came into view, emblazoned across the back in stark detail.
Above it, a curved rocker patch read “Property of” and below the emblem another curving rocker read “Oktober” all in bold embroidered letters.
“Oktober,” I breathed, sitting up fully.
I knew exactly what this meant. In the weeks since moving to the compound, I’d learned enough about club culture to understand the significance of what he was offering.
This wasn’t just a piece of clothing. It was a declaration, a mark of both protection and belonging.
“You don’t have to accept it,” he said seriously.
“Nothing changes between us if you’re not ready.
But after today…” He held the jacket toward me.
“I want everyone to know what I already know. You’re mine, and I’m yours.
You belong here, with me and our family.
” I liked how he referred to everyone here as our family. Not his. Not mine. Ours.
With trembling fingers, I touched the leather, feeling its substantial weight and quality.
Oktober moved behind me, helping me slip my arms into the sleeves with a gentleness that belied his strength.
The vest settled onto my shoulders, heavier than I’d expected, the leather still stiff but already beginning to warm against my body.
It felt like armor, a tangible manifestation of the protection I’d found in this unexpected place with such a remarkable man.
Oktober smoothed his hands over my shoulders. “Stand,” he said softly. “Look.”
I rose from the bed and moved toward the full-length mirror across the room.
The woman who stared back at me was both familiar and new.
The vest hugged my curves in a way that was feminine yet powerful, the “Property of Oktober” patch catching the lamplight as I turned to see how it looked from different angles.
Oktober appeared behind me in the reflection, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. The intensity of his gaze made my breath hitch.
“Now everyone will know,” he said, his voice a low rumble that I felt as much as heard. “But more importantly, do you know, K?tzchen? Do you understand what you mean to me?”
I covered one of his hands with mine, feeling the rough texture of the healing burns beneath my palm. “I know,” I whispered. “I’ve known since you walked through fire to find me.”
He bent to press his lips against the curve where my neck met my shoulder, his beard tickling my skin.
No words were needed as I leaned back against his solid warmth, our eyes still locked in the mirror.
This moment felt sacred somehow, a covenant between us that went beyond traditional vows or promises.
In the reflection, surrounded by Oktober’s arms and marked with symbols that would have once seemed foreign and intimidating, I finally saw myself clearly. I wasn’t the woman I had been or the woman others expected me to be. I’d become. Strong. Resilient. Loved.
Home wasn’t the compound or even this apartment we shared.
Home was here, in the circle of Oktober’s arms, in the family we’d found and the life we were building from the ashes of what came before.
As I turned in his embrace to kiss him properly, I knew with bone-deep certainty that I had finally found where I truly belonged.