30. Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Reaper
The caravan slows as we swing into the long dirt driveway.
The property is sprawling, fields on either side, a weathered barn in the distance, the main house sitting solid and square at the center like it’s been holding the line for hundreds of years.
The porch is wide and shaded, with a row of hanging baskets overflowing with red geraniums that sway in the breeze.
The screen door bangs open just as we roll to a stop.
Wreckers' aunt steps out like she owns every inch of earth she walks on. Small-framed, but there’s nothing fragile about her, posture straight, shoulders squared, dark hair streaked with silver pulled into a thick braid down her back.
Her skirt sways around her ankles, the fabric pattern in deep jewel tones that match the scarf tied loosely at her neck.
Sun-browned skin, eyes like polished onyx that miss nothing.
She’s got the kind of face that tells you she’s laughed hard and fought harder.
Wrecker barely waits for the van to park before he’s out the door and running toward her like he’s still twelve. She’s halfway down the porch steps when he scoops her up, her feet leaving the ground, as he spins her in a wide circle.
She smacks his shoulder, laughing and says something sharp and rapid, her tone half-scolding, half-loving. I catch enough from the years of hearing Wrecker mumble phrases to know she’s telling him she’s too old to be treated “like a child at the fair.”
He grins like a fool but sets her down gently. “Missed you, Zia.”
Torque is already moving up the steps. “Hello, Maura.”
Her face softens. She cups his jaw in both hands like she’s measuring the weight of him. “Good to see you, Everett.”
He bends to hug her, and she holds on for a moment longer than polite before letting go.
Max is next, stepping up with the deliberate, measured pace he uses when he’s sizing someone up. He extends his hand. “Maura, I’m—”
She slaps his hand away and pulls him into a fierce hug. “I know who you are, Maximilian.” Her accent wraps around his name like it’s been there forever. “The stories I’ve heard…” she pats his chest once, sharp enough to sting. “You’ll tell me which ones are lies later.”
I can feel Wrenley’s smile beside me as we help the girls out of the vans, one by one. Daisy hesitates at the step, eyes locked on Maura like she’s seeing something she can’t quite believe. Wrenley gives her a reassuring squeeze, and Hugo nudges her forward with his nose.
The girls start to make their way around the vans towards the porch, Daisy sticking close to the back of the pack. I take the moment, because I’ve been thinking about it since before we even left the safe house, and catch Wrenley’s arm, pulling her against my chest.
I kiss her hard. Not long enough to make a scene, but enough to feel her melt into me for a breath. When I pull back, I keep my forehead against her. “I wanted to do that all damn day,” I murmur.
She giggles, light and wicked, and runs her hand down my jaw, claiming me again right there. “Me too.”
We round the van together, Hugo barreling ahead of us to Max. Max switches to German without missing a beat, commanding him to sit. The dog obeys instantly, tail thumping the dirt.
Max looks up as we join him. “Maura, this is my wife, Wrenley.”
Maura’s eyes flick between the three of us, me, Max, Wrenley, sharp as glass but with a flicker of mischief. She leans toward Wrecker in a stage whisper that carries just fine. “His wife? She was just kissing the giant.”
That gets giggles out of Wrenley and Daisy, and I can’t help smirking.
“Yes, ma’am,” Wrenley says, perfectly unapologetic. “They are both my husbands.”
Maura tips her head back and lets out something in Italian, rich and rolling, that has Wrecker groaning. Daisy leans toward Wrenley and whispers the translation with a grin. “She said, Good God, that’s incredible.”
Wrenley’s eyes go wide before she laughs softly, shaking her head.
“Zia,” Wrecker warns, sighing like he’s been through this before.
Maura just shrugs, hands up. “What? I’m only saying, she’s young and beautiful, why not have the most fun you can get.”
Wrecker shakes his head and waves them toward the porch. “Come on, let’s get the girls settled into the houses.”
From the steps, Maura calls out. “There is food in all the kitchens! You and your friends will come back to the main house for dinner!”
That gets Elias and Riot perking up like kids on Christmas morning.
Margot mutters under her breath. “Food and sex… It’s all these boys care about.”
Max just smirks at her without denying it, and I catch Wrenley trying to hide her grin as we follow everyone toward the guest houses.
The settling process takes a while, and the girls are skittish, but there is an underlying excitement about them. I keep an eye on Daisy, being the youngest, she’s not clinging quite as tight to Wrecker as before, but there’s a hesitation in her every step.
I walk over to the porch of the small house, finding Elias already digging through his bag for something. “Give me an extra burner.”
He arches a brow but doesn’t ask why, just pulls one out and hands it over. “Loaded and clean. Knock yourself out.”
I start programming numbers into it as I walk over to where Daisy’s standing with Wrecker and Wrenley.
“Here,” I say, holding it out to her. “This has Wrecker’s number and Wrenley’s number programmed in. You text them anytime day or night if you need something. Got it?”
She smiles, it's small but real. “Thanks.”
Wrecker claps my shoulder. “Thanks, brother.”
Wrenley just slips her hand into mine and gives it a firm squeeze, no words, just that silent exchange that says she knows exactly why I did it.
The dining room feels lived-in, with worn wood floors, mismatched chairs, and a table big enough to hold the kind of conversations you can’t have anywhere else. The food smells like home, roasted meat, fresh bread, and something rich Maura’s been tending to on the stove all day.
It’s easy here. Comfortable. We’re all talking over one another, trading jabs, laughing at the way Riot and Elias bicker like they’ve been married twenty years, until Maura sets her fork down and says. “So, I have questions.”
The table quiets instantly.
She looks right at me. “How does it work?”
Wrecker groans. “Oh God. Here we go.”
“Shut up,” Maura says without turning her head. “I want to know.”
I lean back, smirking. “Wrenley met Max first. They were married first.” I glance at her, and she’s already smiling at me like she knows where I’m going. “But I fell in love the moment I set eyes on her.”
She tilts her head slightly, eyes warm, but doesn’t say a word. Just let me hang myself in front of the family.
Max chuckles. “They needed a little push to get together, but it’s all worked out.”
Maura’s eyebrows go up. “So it was your idea to share your wife?”
“Yes,” Max says without hesitation. “I could see that they loved each other and didn’t want to admit it out loud. I’m not in the business of denying people what they need or want.”
She nods at that like it’s the most logical thing in the world, then swings her gaze to Margot, who suddenly looks like she’s under interrogation lights. “And you, dear? Are you with these two?” She gestures at Elias and Riot flanking her like bodyguards.
Margot lifts her chin. “Yeah. But our story happened a little differently. There were margaritas. And… other things involved.” She shrugs. “It just sort of worked.”
Maura nods like she’s just been told someone likes their tea with sugar. Then her eyes land on Torque and Wrecker. “And where’s your woman? Or do you share them too?’
I choke on a drink, Wrenley slaps a hand over her mouth, and Margot outright loses it, laughing so hard she has to lean on Riot.
Torque just shakes his head. “I have a woman. Just one-on-one, no sharing her. I have no problem with their life, but that’s not for me.”
Maura’s gaze swings to Wrecker, and the whole table goes quiet, waiting.
He points a fork at her. “If you think I’m dating someone and bringing her around this bunch of crazy people, you’re mistaken.”
Max smirks. “He’s got a point.”
Elias grins around a mouthful of bread. “Smartest thing Wrecker’s said in months.”
“Eat your bread, hacker boy,” Wrecker fires back.
The laughter rolls through the room, easy and unguarded. For a moment, it’s just family around a table.
Then Wrenley leans forward. “Maura… Thank you for doing this for these girls. And boys.”
Maura waves her off at first, but I see the shift in her eyes, something fierce and unyielding underneath the warmth. “Elias is working on tracking down families for the girls who want to go home.” Wrenley continues. “But most don’t have families to return to.”
Maura’s gaze sweeps the table, lingering on each of us, me, Max, Wrenley, even Elias and Riot, and there’s nothing casual in her voice when she says, “Nonsense. They have me now. They are family.”
It’s not just for the girls. It’s for all of us.
Margot lifts her glass. “To family.”
Glasses clink, and for a few breaths, everything feels whole.
The road hums beneath the tires, that steady low vibration that fills the silence none of them seem ready to break.
Torque’s at the wheel again, sunglasses on, one hand resting loose on the steering wheel.
Wrenley’s in the back between Max and me, head leaning on my shoulder, her fingers absently tracing the tattoo on my arm like she’s trying to memorize it for later.
We left the farm at sunrise. Maura stood on the porch in her housecoat, hand raised, watching us go.
Wrecker stayed a minute longer, crouched beside Daisy, promising to visit when things were safe.
She cried, soft, quiet tears, and Wrenley was right there, kneeling beside her, brushing the girl’s hair back and whispering something I couldn’t hear.
Daisy smiled through it, clutching Hugo’s fur in her small hands.
It's that image that sticks with me. Wrenley, bloody-knuckled, scarred, feral as hell, and somehow still the gentlest thing in the world when it matters. I’ve seen her take lives without flinching, and yet she held that kid like she was something breakable.
It messes with my head a little. How she can be both. How she can still want both.
Max glances at me, like he knows I’m lost in my thoughts. He doesn’t say anything, reaches over, and brushes his thumb over the back of Wrenley’s hand. For one brief, insane second, a thought hits me, one I’ve never let myself entertain before. Wrenley, with a child. Our child.
The image is like a punch to the ribs. She is sitting on the floor of some sunlit room, that soft smile curving her lips as she laughs at something small, tiny hands reaching for her wild hair. My tattooed fingers holding something fragile and new.
It’s… disorienting. Because that’s not us. We live in chaos. In blood and vengeance. In the constant hum of danger that never really fades. Kids don’t fit into that world. They never could. But still. After seeing her with Daisy, how protective and instinctive she was, it’s hard not to wonder.
I shift, trying to shake the thought. Torque’s talking about needing to stop for gas, and Wrenley hums in her half-sleep state beside me, lips parted just slightly.
The morning light catches her hair, making it glow like the embers of a fire.
She looks too damn peaceful for someone built for war.
Maybe that’s what love does, it makes you imagine impossible things.