Epilogue
— Dutch —
Three months later
I found Indira in the parking lot behind the clubhouse, sitting on the hood of her car and watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and purple.
She’d changed out of her work clothes—some corporate thing she’d worn for a client meeting—and into jeans and one of my old t-shirts, the fabric soft and worn from years of washing.
Her cut sat on her shoulders like it belonged there, which it did.
She didn’t turn when I approached, but her mouth curved into a smile.
“You know what I was thinking about?” she said as I settled beside her on the hood.
“How lucky you are to have such a devastatingly handsome man?”
That earned me an elbow to the ribs. “I was thinking about the night I left. How I stood in this exact spot and looked back at the clubhouse and promised myself I’d never come back.”
I went still. We didn’t talk about that night much—not because it was forbidden, but because we’d both moved past it. But something in her voice told me this was important.
“What changed?” I asked.
“You did.” She leaned her head against my shoulder.
“Not just the surface stuff. The real things. The hard things.” She was quiet for a moment.
“My sister asked me last week why I came back to Millfield. She wanted to know if it was really for the promotion, or if part of me was always planning to give you another chance.”
My chest tightened. “What did you tell her?”
“That I came back for the job. For my career. For myself.” She lifted her head to look at me, her dark eyes serious. “But that I stayed for us. Because somewhere along the way, you stopped being the man who hurt me and became someone I wanted to build a life with.”
I cupped her face in my hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. “I’m still scared you’re going to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake.”
She didn’t rush to reassure me. That was something I’d learned to love about her—she let hard truths have their weight instead of smoothing them over.
“That fear’s not going away, is it?” she finally asked.
“No.” My voice cracked on the word. “Some mornings I wake up before you and I just... watch you sleep. Make sure you’re still there. Make sure this is real.”
Her eyes softened, but she still didn’t offer easy comfort. “Good.”
I blinked. “Good?”
“The day you stop being scared is the day you stop trying. That fear? It means you know what you have to lose now.”
“Everything,” I said roughly. “I’d lose everything.”
“Then I guess you better keep earning it.” But she smiled as she said it, and kissed me soft and slow, tasting like the sweet tea she’d been drinking.
When we pulled apart, I took her hand. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
I led her around the building to the front entrance. Through the windows, I could see the brothers gathering for the party—Holden restocking the bar, Glitch setting up his laptop for whatever presentation he had planned, Handful already three beers in and laughing at something on his phone.
And Colt, standing off to the side with a beer in hand and a look on his face I’d seen too many times lately. Distracted. Haunted. He’d been like this for weeks. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I knew the signs of a man being torn apart by his past.
I’d been that man not so long ago.
“He’s going to need you soon,” Indira said quietly, following my gaze. “Whatever he’s dealing with, it’s eating him alive.”
“I know.” I made a mental note to corner Colt this week. Brother to brother, no church politics. Just one man who’d been through hell offering a hand to another. “But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Come on.”
I pulled her past the entrance, around to the side of the building where we were building the new expansion—three thousand square feet that would house a legitimate security consulting office, conference rooms, and a workshop.
“Look.” I pointed to where the framing had gone up this week.
The air smelled like sawdust and fresh-cut lumber—the scent of something being built. The evening breeze carried the sound of music from inside the clubhouse, but out here it was quiet enough to hear the wood creak as it settled.
She looked. Saw studs and beams and the skeleton of what would eventually be walls. “I’m looking. What am I seeing?”
“Our future.” I wrapped my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder.
The warmth of her against my chest steadied something in me.
“That conference room? That’s where we’re going to land contracts with new clients.
That workshop? That’s where we’re going to train the next generation of security specialists, give some of these brothers real skills they can use.
And that office in the corner, the one with the big windows? ”
“What about it?”
“That’s ours.” I squeezed her tighter. “Talked to the contractor last week. Two desks, two chairs, two everything. For when you’re working from home instead of going into the office.”
She turned in my arms, her eyes searching my face. “Dutch...”
My heart was hammering. Stupid, really—I’d faced down men with guns without this kind of nerves. But this mattered more than any of that.
“I know you’ve got your remote setup with your team now.
One day a week in the corporate office, the rest from home.
” I brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“You gave your people that freedom—less commuting, more time with their families, roll out of bed and be at their desks. I love that about you. But I also know sometimes you need space that isn’t our living room.
Somewhere you can spread out, take calls without me stomping around in the background. ”
“You built me an office,” she said softly.
“Built us an office. But see that smaller one next to it?” I nodded toward the framing. “That’s mine. For when you need the big space to yourself—client calls, presentations, whatever. I’ll clear out and you can have it.”
She reached up to trace the edge of my beard, her touch gentle. “You thought about all of this.”
“Been thinking about it for a while.” I held her gaze. “I want a life with you, Indira. Not just sharing a bed and hoping for the best. I want to plan for things. Make space for you—literally.”
“Every goddamn day,” she whispered. “That’s what you said. You’d keep earning it every goddamn day.”
“I meant it.”
She smiled, and it was like watching the sun come out. “Then let’s build something worth having.” She hesitated, and I saw color rise in her cheeks. Something unspoken hung between us.
“What is it?” I asked.
She took a breath. “Maybe someday... a family. If you want that.”
My breath caught as the image hit me with unexpected force—Indira round with my child, teaching our daughter to be fierce and smart and uncompromising. Our son to be better than I’d been, to break the cycle my father had started.
I must have gone quiet too long because she touched my arm. “Dutch? You don’t have to—”
“I’m not saying no.” The words came out rough. “I’m just... I never let myself picture it before. Was afraid to want it.”
“And now?”
The thought of my father brought my mom to mind.
She’d finally done it—moved out six weeks ago into a retirement apartment complex down in Florida.
She’d called me the day she signed the lease, her voice shaky but determined.
Told me King had become that man again, the one who wrote her letters from prison all those years ago, apologizing for everything, promising her the world if she’d just stay.
Now, he was running himself ragged trying to win her back, showing up with flowers, calling every day, swearing things would be different.
But my mom had held firm. Decades of empty promises had finally taught her that the man in those letters wasn’t real. Or if he was, he only existed when he was desperate to keep her. She deserved better than a husband who could only be kind when he was afraid of losing her.
I hoped she’d stay strong. I hoped King’s charm offensive would eventually burn itself out and she’d find peace in her little apartment with its view of the ocean.
And I hoped—selfishly, maybe—that watching my parents’ marriage finally end would remind me every day what happened when you took someone for granted.
“Yeah,” I managed finally, meeting Indira’s eyes. “Yeah, I want that. When you’re ready.”
She searched my face for a long moment. “Not yet.” She said it firmly, but her hand found mine. “But soon.”
“I can wait.” I kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth. “I waited thirteen months to get you back. Every day with you is a blessing.”
She pulled back and looked toward the clubhouse, where the party was ramping up—music starting, laughter echoing across the parking lot. “We should go in. Your brothers are probably wondering where we are.”
“Let them wonder.” I tugged her closer. “Give me one more minute out here with you. Just us.”
So we stood there in the shadow of what we were building—literally and figuratively—and watched the last light fade from the sky.
Behind us, the clubhouse pulsed with life and noise and the chaotic energy of the Venom Riders.
Ahead of us, the framing of our future stood skeletal and full of promise.
“Dutch?” Indira’s voice was soft.
“Yeah, woman?”
“Thanks for becoming someone worth coming back to.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak. Just held her tighter and hoped she could feel everything I couldn’t put into words—the gratitude, the wonder, the absolute fucking terror that I’d somehow gotten this lucky.
“Come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Let’s go be the president and his old lady. Show these boys how it’s done.”
“Both cuts or just one tonight?” I asked, because she’d taken to alternating between them depending on her mood and her message.
She grinned, wicked and beautiful. “First Lady. I want them to remember I’m your equal. And equals don’t take shit from anyone, especially if their name is Handful.”
“That’s my woman.”
We walked into the clubhouse together, hand in hand, and I felt the shift in energy when the brothers saw us. Respect, yeah. But also something warmer. Hope, maybe. Because if I could pull his head out of my ass and become a better man, maybe they could too.
Holden raised his beer in salute. Glitch nodded with that small smile he saved for people he liked. Even Handful looked impressed, though he’d never admit it out loud.
And Colt—Colt watched us with something raw and painful in his eyes before he turned away and headed for the back door.