Chapter Sixty-Nine
WE WERE ALL in the war room. Doors locked. Voices low. The kind of meetin’ where every man had a seat, but no one leaned back, no one let his shoulders ease. The air had a hum to it, like a storm crouched just beyond the walls, waitin’ for us to blink.
The table stretched between us, scarred by years of fists and blades, ashtrays brimming with smoldered-out butts.
Half-drained mugs of cold coffee sat forgotten.
In the middle lay a stack of printed intel—satellite images, DEA reports, photocopies of names with red lines slashed through some and circled hard around others.
It wasn’t just paper. It was a ledger of the war we’d just survived.
I leaned forward, forearms braced on the edge, fingers laced. My cut sat heavier than it ever had, like it’d soaked up the blood and smoke of the last week and decided it was never lettin’ go.
“We got confirmation last night,” Devil said finally, his voice low but cuttin’ through the quiet. He nodded toward Mystic.
Mystic tossed a burner onto the table, the thing skidding across the wood like a stone over water.
“Jaycee put together a flash drive three days back. Marked it like a school project, slipped it through the mail. Every file had Gabrial’s dirt.
Accounts, shipments, payout trails. And footage—real footage—from inside.
Traffickin’. Weapons. Rituals.” His voice dropped harder on that last word. “They can’t unsee it.”
“FBI’s takin’ the rest,” I added, my voice comin’ out rougher than I meant. “Traffickin’ goes federal. They’ve got boots in both Carolinas already, talkin’ to survivors, runnin’ warrants, crossin’ state lines with their weight. This ain’t stoppin’ anytime soon.”
Chain leaned back slow, knuckles crackin’ one by one like distant gunfire. “So it’s over.”
I shook my head, flat and cold. “No. Gabrial’s dead. That part’s buried. But cults don’t die easy. They fester. They regrow. Especially when the head don’t rot fast enough.”
Ash who was still a part of this, shifted in the corner, arms crossed tight across his chest. His voice carried the kind of weight that comes from livin’ it, not just hearin’ about it.
“They’ve already started rebuilding. Heard it from one of the girls Miriam’s sheltering.
The ones who stayed behind are calling it a trial by fire.
They think they’re being tested. They’re digging in. ”
“Jesus,” Bolt muttered, draggin’ a hand down his face.
“Miriam’s got six of ‘em now,” I said. “Three kids, and three young women. She’s got help, but it ain’t enough. Not for what’s comin’.”
“We’ll rotate prospects,” Devil said, matter-of-fact, no hesitation. “Day and night. Anybody even looks sideways near her house, I want eyes on ‘em. Tails on ‘em. They breathe wrong, I want to know about it.”
Gearhead tapped the table with the edge of his lighter, metal hittin’ wood in a steady rhythm. “You think any of ‘em will have the guts to retaliate?”
“Maybe not yet,” I said. “But loyalty’s poison. Shepherds are still out there, men who’d spill blood for Gabrial just to prove their faith ain’t cracked.”
“Then we stay ready,” Chain growled, his hand curlin’ into a fist on the table. “They wanna come knockin’? We show ‘em what a real fire looks like.”
“Amen,” Bolt muttered..
Devil’s gaze swept the room, heavy as a gavel. “We lock down. No outside runs unless cleared. No solo rides anywhere near Hollow Creek. We keep our ear to the ground, our iron close, and if they move, we move faster.”
The men nodded, the sound of it more solid than any shout.
I didn’t add more. Didn’t need to. Just sat there, starin’ at the grain of the table, feelin’ the ghost of Gabrial’s voice still echo off the stone of that goddamn hall.
He was gone.
But what he built? That rot was in the marrow. We’d carry it now, the ones who lived, the ones who bled, and the ones who’d die makin’ sure it never rose again.
The war room emptied slow, boots dragging, chairs scraping like old bones across the floor. Nobody lingered, but nobody rushed either. We all knew this wasn’t the kind of war you walked away from clean.
I stayed put a moment longer, palms flat on the scarred wood, eyes on the maps and files scattered there like the aftermath of a storm. Gabrial’s face still burned in my head. His voice, the blade against her throat, the fire roarin’ high enough to taste in my lungs.
Finally I stood and left the room. Out back, the night pressed close against the walls, heavy with damp earth and pine.
I caught a glimpse of Gearhead by the firepit, smoke curling around him, a few of the boys sittin’ close, their faces lit in orange.
Watchin’ each other’s backs, same as always. That part would never change.
But me? My boots carried me toward the stairs. Toward her.
***
THE DOOR CLICKED shut behind me, the sound too small for the weight sittin’ in my chest. She was there, propped up against the pillows, her skin pale but her eyes alive. Tired, worn, but alive.
Christ Almighty, I’d near lost her.
My boots hit the floor heavy as I crossed the room. My cut slid off my shoulders, landin’ on the chair like a second skin I didn’t need in this moment. My hands shook when I reached for her, and I hated it, but hell if I could stop.
“You oughta be sleepin’,” I rasped, voice rough from smoke and screams I hadn’t had time to let out.
Her lips curled soft, that quiet smile that always cut me open. She lifted her hand, small and fragile lookin’, but strong enough to break me in half. “I can rest when you’re here.”
That undid me.
I took her hand in both of mine, pressin’ it to my mouth, to my chest, to every damn place that hurt just to prove to myself she was real. My breath shuddered, and I didn’t care she saw it. Didn’t care she knew how close I’d come to losin’ her.
“Darlin’, you don’t know,” I whispered, low and raw. “You don’t know what it did to me, thinkin’ I was too late.”
Her fingers curled in my shirt, tuggin’ me down. No hesitation. No doubt. Just want.
I kissed her hard. Desperate. All the fear I’d buried pourin’ out in one clash of mouths. She opened for me like she’d been waitin’ too, and the sound she made—soft and broken—ignited somethin’ deep, somethin’ I couldn’t cage anymore.
I eased her back into the mattress, careful of the bandage on her shoulder but otherwise losin’ any sense of control I thought I had.
My hands mapped her skin, greedy, reverent, terrified and starvin’ all at once.
She whispered my name against my mouth, and I groaned, teeth catchin’ on her throat, draggin’ a gasp from her that shot fire straight through me.
Clothes? They didn’t stand a chance. My hands were clumsy, hers impatient, both of us pullin’ and tearin’ until there wasn’t nothin’ left between us but skin slick with heat.
“Zeke,” she breathed, her voice tremblin’ like she was both scared and needin’ at the same time. “Please.”
That broke me wide open.
I pushed into her slow, deep, watchin’ her eyes go wide, her lips partin’ on a cry that was half pain, half salvation. My forehead dropped to hers, breath shudderin’ out as I filled her. Felt like I’d been wanderin’ blind my whole damn life, and she was the only place I was ever meant to land.
Her legs wrapped around me, draggin’ me closer, and I moved, slow at first, then harder when she met me with the same fire.
Every thrust was a vow, every groan a prayer I didn’t know how to speak.
She clung to me, nails draggin’ down my back, gasps spillin’ into my mouth as I took her over and over, starvin’ for every sound, every tremor that proved she was alive.
“I love you,” I growled against her neck, my voice so rough it barely sounded human. “Ain’t nobody takin’ you from me again. Not him. Not the fire. Not the goddamn past. You hear me?”
“Yes,” she gasped, archin’ into me, eyes shinin’ with tears that weren’t fear anymore. “I hear you. I’ll always love you.”
I damn near lost it then, but I held on, drivin’ her higher, lettin’ the rhythm slow when she broke apart beneath me—body shakin’, voice cryin’ my name like it was the only word she knew.
I followed her down, hard and fast, my release rippin’ through me so fierce I buried my shout in her neck, holdin’ her tight enough to bruise. It wasn’t just lust. It was survival. A claim carved deeper than skin.
We stayed tangled, my body coverin’ hers, our hearts poundin’ wild together like war drums finally easin’ into somethin’ steady.
I kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, softer now, slowin’ down like I was afraid to spook her. She stroked my hair back, her touch gentle where mine had been rough, and it near undid me all over again.
“You’re safe now, darlin’,” I whispered, lettin’ the words spill against her lips like an oath. “I’ve got you. You’re home.”
For the first time since the fire, I felt her body ease against mine, not afraid, not fightin’, not just survivin’.
Just alive.
I didn’t move for a long damn time. Couldn’t. My chest was still heavin’, my body wrung out, and yet I felt like if I shifted even an inch, I might shatter whatever fragile peace had just settled between us.
Her hand stayed tangled in my hair, fingertips pressin’ soft against my scalp, anchorin’ me there. Her skin was damp, warm, alive. I listened to the sound of her breath, steadyin’ by the second, and let it stitch me back together piece by piece.
Christ, she was still here.
I rolled us gentle, pullin’ her on top so I could see her face in the low light. She was so fucking beautiful. My woman. The mother of my heart’s only family.
“You hurtin’?” I asked, brushin’ my thumb across the cut on her shoulder, careful as hell not to press too hard.
She shook her head, hair spillin’ over her cheek, lips curvin’ soft. “Not anymore.”
Those two words near broke me worse than the fight ever had.
I cupped her face, lettin’ my calloused hand frame her softness, and kissed her slow this time. Not desperate. Not wild. Just steady. Like I had all the time in the world now that she was safe in my arms.
She sighed against my mouth, meltin’ into me, and for the first time since the nightmare started, I believed we would actually make it through.
Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushin’ my cheek as she pressed close, and I felt her weight get heavier, her body finally givin’ in to the exhaustion she’d been fightin’.
“Sleep, darlin’,” I whispered, strokin’ her back in long, easy passes. “Nobody’s hurtin’ you now. Not while I’m breathin’.”
Her lips moved against my chest, the faintest murmur of my name—Zeke—like it was a prayer. Then she went quiet.
I stayed awake. Couldn’t do otherwise. Just lay there with her curled into me, starin’ at the dark ceiling, listenin’ to the faint sounds of the clubhouse, boots on the floorboards, muffled voices, the world still turnin’.
But in that room, it was just us.
I pressed my mouth to her hair, breathin’ her in, lettin’ the scent of her skin wash out the smoke and blood that still clung to me. My chest ached somethin’ fierce, but it wasn’t fear anymore. It was the weight of realizin’ just how close I’d come to losin’ the only woman I’d ever truly loved.
“Never again,” I muttered, my voice low, a vow spoken to the dark.
I held her tighter, lettin’ her warmth seep into me, lettin’ the steady rise and fall of her breath remind me that for tonight, she was safe.
Tomorrow would bring its own war. The cult. The fallout from Gabrial’s dirty business. The fallout we hadn’t even begun to count.
But right now?
Right now, I had her.
And that’s all I cared about.