Chapter Twenty-Seven #3
My thrusts grow deeper, more desperate, chasing the edge I see her teetering on. Every time I drive into her, she clutches around me like her body is trying to trap me there.
Like she never wants to let me go.
“You make the filthiest sound when I fuck you right there…” She moans. “Yeah, right there.” I grind deeper. “Say my name again, and I’ll ruin you slower.”
“Jesus, Sin.” Her head falls back on a strangled cry, eyes fluttering, lips parted in a silent gasp before sound finally rips free, a moan that’s half agony, half bliss.
Her hips roll, desperate and wild, grinding into me with reckless abandon.
I feel it, every ripple, every flutter, every frantic pull of her muscles as she climbs.
I shift my weight, my free hand slipping between us, fingers finding her clit and working it in tight, fast circles.
My rhythm stutters. Not from exhaustion, but from how fucking close she is.
From how connected I am to her every reaction.
The flush of her chest. The quiver of her thighs.
The sharp little hitch in her breath as her body tenses, poised on the edge of something violent and beautiful.
“Come for me,” I growl out the words. “Fucking break for me.”
And she does.
She shatters.
Her spine bows, breasts pressing to my chest, her mouth falling open in a cry that sounds more like a battle scream than pleasure. Her nails dig into my back, raking, anchoring, clinging. Her pussy clamps down around me in wild pulses, spasming through the release I just forced out of her.
The wave of her orgasm crashes over me in real time.
I feel it through every part of her, the way she convulses beneath me, the hot rush of slick that coats me, the broken sobs she tries to stifle.
It’s raw. Fucking real. Like she’s giving me every part of her body, breath, soul, and trusting I won’t break it.
My hips jerk, losing rhythm. All control slipping, as my grip tightens in her hair while I thrust one last time, deep, hard, and absolute.
My balls pull up, and my toes curl, my entire body tensing with the force.
I feel it burn inside me, the tingle rippling up my spine.
The heat builds, the pressure so intense that it erupts harder than I have ever come before with a hard thrust, deep inside her.
My vision blackens, and I can’t find my breath, the aftershocks rocking through me like a tsunami, crashing again and again.
I curse, groaning, and bury myself to the hilt as I come hard, spilling into her, every pulse a confession I can’t take back.
My forehead drops to hers. My lungs seize. My body trembles as though hers taught it how.
And for a long moment, all that’s left is the wreckage of us.
The thunder of our breathing.
The sweat between our skin.
The silence in a Chapel that was never meant for this, but now belongs to only us.
The air is thick with sex, sweat, and something that feels a lot like regret, but not for what we just did.
But for how much I already know that I’ll never stop wanting it again.
For a long time, we don’t move. Her fingers trace the edge of my cut, and her badge still glints between us.
Two sides of the same war.
“Guess the Chapel’s not so clean anymore,” she murmurs softly.
I huff a laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Guess not. But maybe that’s the point.”
Her smile is tired but tender. “You mean redemption doesn’t always look holy?”
“Nah.” I kiss her again, slow this time. “Sometimes it looks like this, dirty, complicated, and worth every fucking sin.”
Two Weeks Later
Over the next two weeks, the preparations begin.
Ghost holes up with his equipment, hacking into Alliance communications with the kind of focused intensity that makes him dangerous. He identifies the time and place—a warehouse on the outskirts of Vegas, perfect for what the Alliance needs. Isolated. Minimal witnesses. Easy exit routes.
The arms shipment is coming from Mexico. High-grade weapons that will flood the streets if we don’t stop it. Rourke will be there to ensure no police interference, which means Alliance leadership will be present too.
A perfect opportunity to catch them all.
Maria coordinates with her small team—three officers she trusts with absolute certainty.
It’s depressing how few clean cops there are in this city.
Victoria works with her journalist contact, briefing them on the story while keeping them safe.
The civilian needs to capture everything but stay out of the line of fire.
Koa and Bear scout the location, identifying positions.
Nitro runs drills with the brothers who’ll be on the ground.
Everyone has a role.
Everyone knows what’s at stake.
This isn’t just about revenge anymore.
It’s about justice. Truth. Exposing corruption that’s poisoned this city for too long.
The night before the sting, the clubhouse is tense but ready. Brothers sharpen their focus with the kind of quiet determination that comes before a battle. Some clean weapons. Others review the plan one more time. A few just sit in silence, preparing mentally for what’s coming.
I stand out in front of the clubhouse, watching the desert beyond our gates. The city lights of Vegas glow in the distance, that beautiful, corrupt beast that we’re about to try and tame.
Behind me, the clubhouse doors open. I don’t need to turn to know it’s Victoria. I’d recognize her footsteps anywhere now.
“Can’t sleep either?” she asks, coming to stand beside me.
“Too much riding on tomorrow.”
She takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. It’s a simple gesture, but it means everything. “We’re ready. The plan is solid.”
“Plans don’t survive contact with the enemy.”
“Good thing we’ve got you, then. You always think three steps ahead.”
I turn to face her, needing to see her expression in the dim light. “Whatever happens tomorrow—”
“Don’t.” She puts a finger to my lips. “We’re both coming out of this. Both of us. Together. Remember?”
I kiss her finger, then her palm, then pull her into my arms. One more night together, knowing a few hours changes everything. Knowing that by this time tomorrow, we’ll either have won or lost all that matters.
Inside, I hear Bear’s rumble as he addresses the younger brothers. Ghost’s quiet voice runs through the communication protocols one final time. Nitro’s flute, hauntingly beautiful, plays something that sounds like both a prayer and a war song.
This is my family.
My brothers.
My club.
And tomorrow, we fight for all of it.
I pull Victoria closer, breathing in her scent. “I love you, wildcat. Whatever happens, remember that.”
“I love you, too,” she whispers back. “Now take me inside. I want tonight to be about us, not tomorrow.”
I lead her to my room, closing the door on the world outside.
Tomorrow we face Rourke, the Alliance, and everything that’s been building toward this moment.
But tonight?
Tonight is ours.
And I intend to make sure she knows exactly how much she means to me—with every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise in the dark.
The poker chip sits on my nightstand, catching the moonlight through the window. Tomorrow it’ll be back in my pocket, my touchstone during the chaos to come.
But for now, all that matters is the woman in my arms and the future we’re fighting to build together.