Chapter Twenty-Five
Ryder
March arrives with the kind of clear, sunny mornings that make the Zone feel new again. Three months since Christmas—since I drove back to her through snow and fear, since she chose to stay. And almost that long since I started carrying the ring in my pocket, waiting for the right moment.
The problem is, every moment with Laney feels right.
Coffee together before her classes. Video calls during my overnight shifts.
Weekends at the cabin, sanding walls, and dreaming about the sanctuary we’ll build.
Quiet nights in our tiny Zone apartment, her curled against me while we talk about everything and nothing.
How do you pick one “perfect” moment when your whole life already feels like one?
“You’re going to rub a hole through that uniform,” Kam says, watching me check the ring box for the hundredth time.
“You’re not helping.”
“You know what would help? Actually asking her.”
“I’m waiting for the right time.”
“It’s been three months, brother. At this rate you’ll be proposing in a nursing home.”
Thrall glances up from an equipment check. “She already said yes to your life, man. What are you waiting for?”
He’s right, and I know it. Still, a stubborn part of me remembers almost losing her—the fear, the silence, the way I swore I’d never take her trust for granted again.
“I just… want it to be special.”
Thrall grins. “Then make it special. But soon, please. The whole station’s losing bets over how long you’ll stall.”
When I realize I need to make it about us, I know exactly what to do.
Two weeks later, I tell her as I slide a mug of coffee her way. “I have something planned for us Saturday.”
She looks up from her laptop, eyes bright. “What kind of something?”
“The surprise kind.”
“You’ve been plotting.”
“Maybe a little. Can you be ready by eight in the morning?”
“For a surprise that mysterious? Absolutely.”
Saturday morning dawns bright and sharp, sunlight spilling between the high-rises at the Zone’s edge. I lead her through quiet streets that still glisten from last night’s mist. The ocean smell drifts in—salt, metal, city grit, and the faint hum of waking life.
“Where are we going?” she asks, half laughing.
“You’ll see.”
We stop before an old brick warehouse scarred by graffiti and time. The paint is faded, the windows long gone. I push open a side door I repaired weeks ago, the hinges oiled so they don’t squeal.
“Ryder,” she whispers as we step inside. The empty warehouse smells like decades of disuse, the walls tagged with old graffiti. “This place looks ready to fall down. You sure it’s safe?”
“The structure is sound.” I grin over my shoulder. “Don’t judge yet. The good part’s upstairs.”
We climb narrow stairs that smell of rust and sea air. At the top, the door opens to sky.
Laney stops dead.
The rooftop stretches wide and open, bordered by the crumbling lip of the old parapet.
Beyond it, the city sprawls toward the shimmer of the Pacific.
Battery-powered string lights zigzag between rusted vent pipes, soft against the pale morning.
A weather-stained table holds a thermos of her favorite tea, fruit, and the chocolate cookies she loves.
A blanket waits in the center, weighed down with two sandbags to keep the wind from stealing it.
“I’ve been working on this for weeks,” I tell her. “When you thought I was pulling extra drills, I was here clearing a path from the front door up the stairs, patching leaks, and scrubbing the roof. Figured the Zone deserved at least one place with a view.”
Her hand covers her mouth. “You did all this?”
“Had help with the lights. Kam likes any excuse to climb things.”
She laughs, but her eyes are wet. “It’s beautiful. I didn’t even know you could see the ocean from here.”
“Only if you know where to look.”
We sit on the blanket, the city humming below, gulls wheeling overhead. I pour her tea. She leans into me, warm and soft, her head fitting perfectly against my shoulder as I hug her tight.
“This is fantastic,” she murmurs. “You’ve been so busy lately. I thought you were stepping into your new lieutenant position.”
“I figured out how to squeeze this in, early mornings, late nights… worth it.”
We fall quiet, letting the light and wind do the talking. Somewhere far off, a siren rises and fades—a reminder of the world still turning.
“Remember the day we met?” I ask.
“When I bit off more than I could chew and you showed up like a green-skinned miracle?”
“You were fierce,” I say, taking her hand. “Scared, but determined. I fell for you that day. Tried to tell myself it was just proximity, but I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you were it for me. The one thing I didn’t even know I was missing.”
Her fingers tighten around mine. I take a breath, steadying the tremor in my chest, and pull the ring box from my pocket.
“These months—seeing you move here, building a life in the Zone, fighting for our future—every day has reminded me what real courage looks like.” My throat thickens. “You gave up safety and comfort to choose love. You taught me that staying can be the bravest thing of all.”
I open the box. Morning sunlight flashes off the silver band and peridot center stone—green as my skin, bright as her spirit.
“Laney Hillman, will you marry me? Be my mate, my partner, my forever?”
For one heartbeat, even the wind stops. Then she’s laughing and crying. When she moves to wipe her eyes, she nearly knocks over the thermos.
“Yes. Oh my god, yes!”
I barely get the ring on her finger before she’s kissing me, tears and joy tangling between us. My purr rumbles deep and low, vibrating against her mouth until she’s smiling into it, her happiness melting into mine.
We tumble back onto the blanket, the perfect blue sky above us, and the Zone stretched wide below. Her thumb traces my tusk; I breathe her in—morning air, tea, and the faint salt of her happy tears.
From a desperate woman with too many animals and a lonely firefighter who thought he’d never leave the Zone’s fences—how did we end up here?
“I love you,” she whispers. “And this? This is unbelievable.”
“I wanted something that was ours,” I say. “A place we can always come back to.”
She sits up, turning her hand so the light catches the ring. “It’s beautiful. It’s perfect.”
“It’s you,” I say simply. “Strong. Bright. Impossible to ignore.”
She laughs, tears streaking down her cheeks. “You’re ridiculous. And I love you.”
By the time we climb down, a small group is waiting near the warehouse—Kam, Thrall, Brokka, Joy, Grum… and, of course, my mother. The second she sees the ring glittering on Laney’s hand, she lets out a sound that’s half laugh, half sob.
“Finally!” Yara declares, sweeping Laney into a hug that lifts her half off her feet. “I’ve been cooking for days waiting for this.”
I blink. “You have?”
“Of course,” she says, entirely unapologetic. “I figured I might as well have enough food ready for a celebration.”
I shake my head, laughing. “And what were you planning to do with all that food if she’d said no?”
Yara’s eyes soften as she takes Laney’s hand. “Then I’d have fed you anyway,” she says simply. “But she’s your soulbound. I never believed she would refuse you.”
Laney laughs through her tears as my mom tucks her close. “Come on, daughter. There are a lot of people waiting at my house. There’s roast, pies, and a cake that says Congratulations, Soulmates. Let’s celebrate properly before Kam eats the frosting.”
And just like that, we’re swept along toward my mother’s house—our family at our backs, the future warm and certain ahead.