Chapter 22
After the Fire
The club house sat quiet under a gray morning sky, the kind of stillness that only comes after a long night of bad weather and worse choices.
Mud streaked the drive, puddles reflecting the twisted shape of the club’s sign. The flag still hung from the post out front, soaked but standing.
Tater rolled through the gate slow. The sound of his Harley broke the silence, deep and even.
When he cut the engine, the quiet came rushing back.
Ren slid off before he could help her, one hand pressed to her side. She moved stiff, but she was moving—and that was more than he’d dared hope for when he’d seen her standing over Shadow’s body in the rain.
Eagle was the first one out. He stopped dead on the porch, eyes going from Tater to Ren to the mud-splattered chain hanging from Tater’s belt loop.
He didn’t ask what happened. Didn’t have to.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You two look like hell.”
“Feels about right,” Tater said, voice low.
He took Ren’s arm gently, guiding her toward the clubhouse. She didn’t resist, just leaned into Tater like he was the only thing keeping her upright. The others inside—Patch, Brick, and the rest—looked up when they walked in. Conversations died mid-sentence.
The smell of coffee and whiskey hit hard. The familiar creak of the old wood floor under their boots. Home, or at least close enough to pretend.
Tater nodded once at the room. “It’s done.”
Eagle followed them in. “Shadow?”
“Gone,” Tater said.
That one word hung heavy in the air. Nobody cheered. Nobody spoke. Just that shared silence, the kind that only comes when the cost’s too high to count.
Ren sank into the worn couch in the corner, head tipped back, eyes half-closed. Someone set a cup of coffee on the table near her, but she didn’t reach for it.
Tater crouched beside her, resting his forearms on his knees. “You need Doc to look at that side?”
“I’ll live.”
“You sure?”
Her mouth curved faintly, a tired almost-smile. “You doubting me now?”
He shook his head. “Never have. Never will.”
Outside, the sun started cutting through the clouds, thin bands of gold finding their way across the compound. The storm was finally over, at least for now.
Tater looked at her, bruised and bloodied but still here, and for the first time in months, something in him unclenched.
“You rest,” he said softly. “We’ll take it from here.”
Ren’s eyes opened, green catching the light. “No,” she whispered. “We take it from here.”
And damn if he didn’t believe her.