Chapter Seventy
THE RIDE OUT to the house was quiet but steady, the kind of ride where the road itself felt like it knew we were carryin’ somethin’ heavier than just two bodies and chrome.
The sun sat high and mean, burnin’ through the Carolina blue, throwin’ long shadows off the trees that lined the backroads.
Her arms stayed wrapped tight around me the whole way, her cheek pressed against my back like she was still afraid to let go.
When we rolled up the gravel drive, the house came into view—weathered wood, paint peeled by storms, but still standin’ strong. It sat above The Pit like it had always been waitin’ on us.
I killed the engine, the silence hittin’ sharp after the thunder of the pipes.
Sable slid off the bike behind me, her hands lingerin’ at my cut like she needed that extra heartbeat before lettin’ go.
The wind caught her hair, lifted it across her shoulders, and when her eyes landed on the house, there was somethin’ guarded there. Curiosity. Hope. Maybe even fear.
“Zeke,” she said, brows furrowed. “Why are we here?”
I cleared my throat, scratchin’ at the back of my neck. “I want us to live here. You, me and the kids.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, unblinking and wide.
“I know it don’t look like much,” I went on, voice rougher than I meant it to be. “Hell, I ain’t good with words and I’ve never been the kinda man who can stand here spoutin’ poetry. I mess up more than I get right, but—”
I reached into my saddlebag, pullin’ out the small black box that’d been burnin’ a hole in my pocket since the night I thought I might lose her forever.
Her lips parted, breath catchin’.
“I love you, Sable” I said, steady now. “You been mine since that night on the road, and I don’t want nothin’ more than to build somethin’ real with you. Somethin’ no fire, no man, no past can take from us.”
I flipped the box open.
Simple band. No frills. Just strong. Just forever.
Her eyes glassed, but no tears fell. Not yet.
“You marry me, Sable?” My voice cracked low. “Make this house ours? Make me yours?”
She covered her mouth with both hands, shoulders shakin’. Then she nodded, hard.
“Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes.”
I slid the ring onto her finger, my hands shakin’ worse than they ever had holdin’ a gun. Felt right the second it settled there.
But I wasn’t done.
I reached back into my cut, pulled out the other piece, the one that mattered almost as much. Black leather. White thread.
Property of Thunder.
Her breath hitched sharp, eyes widenin’.
“You sure?” I asked, my voice quiet, scared as hell she’d run even now.
She stepped close, fingers brushin’ mine as she took it, steady as steel.
“I’m sure,” she whispered.
She slid it on. Leather settled on her shoulders like it had been waitin’ on her all this time.
Perfect fit.
I caught her face in my hands and kissed her there on that porch, the sun beatin’ down, the world quiet for the first time in too damn long. Didn’t matter what ghosts still lingered. Didn’t matter how deep the scars ran.
Home wasn’t the house.
Home wasn’t the club.
Home was the fire we walked through and lived to claim on the other side.
And that fire had a name.
Sable.
The End