Buck
The clubhouse had finally quieted, and most of the Kings were asleep. Ghost was supposed to be asleep, but instead, the bastard limped into the room carrying two beers. "You look miserable."
"You're welcome,” Ghost breathed. Ghost dropped into the chair beside him and studied the maps spread across the table.
They had the location of the second facility, the new routes, and the names Eli had given them.
It was enough information to destroy half the operation, but not enough to stop it completely—not yet.
Ghost grinned immediately. "Yeah."
“Why am I an asshole?” Ghost asked.
"You're happy about this, aren’t you?” Buck asked.
"Absolutely,” Ghost said. Buck wanted to throw something at him, but decided against it since his arm was still in a sling. Ghost leaned back in the chair carefully to protect his injured shoulder.
"Think about it,” Ghost started.
"I don’t want to,” Buck insisted.
Ghost ignored him and continued. "She escaped a trafficking warehouse." Buck sighed, knowing that he was going to have to listen to Ghost’s entire speech. "She outsmarted armed guards."
"I know,” Buck drawled.
"She found an exit at the warehouse,” Ghost continued.
"Ghost,” Buck warned.
"She literally saved our asses by warning us about explosives,” Ghost said. Buck pinched the bridge of his nose because every point was valid, and that was the problem. Ghost looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"She's one of us,” he said. The statement settled heavily between them. Buck looked toward the maps again. Was she really one of them? She wasn’t a biker, a criminal, or a King, but still, she was one of them. She was their family now, and the realization felt surprisingly right.
"You're getting attached,” Buck grumbled.
Ghost laughed. "Brother, we're way past attached.
" Buck stared at the map of northern Manitoba and then toward the staircase, up to the room upstairs where Wren slept.
It was the room she'd somehow taken over completely, not physically, but emotionally.
The clubhouse felt different when she was there—lighter, warmer, and more alive.
Ghost followed his gaze and then smirked. "Oh."
Buck frowned. "What."
Ghost pointed dramatically. “You’re making the face.
Buck groaned. “Not this again.”
Ghost looked delighted. "You love her."
"Yeah, but that’s not a secret,” Buck insisted. The easy admission surprised both of them.
Ghost burst out laughing. "Well damn, I never thought I’d see the day when both of us were settled down—especially not with the same woman.
” Buck laughed too, because apparently somewhere between the kidnapping and the warehouse fire, he'd stopped being afraid of saying it. He had stopped fighting it.
Ghost raised his beer. "Look at us growing emotionally.
" Buck flipped him off as the war room door suddenly opened.
Both men looked up to find Wren standing there barefoot, wearing one of Buck's flannels.
Her hair was messy from sleep, and she looked entirely too beautiful for the middle of the night.
Buck's brain immediately stopped working.
And the bastard sitting next to him smirked.
Wren looked between them. "What are you two doing?"
Ghost answered instantly. "Your boyfriend was staring longingly at the stairs, thinking about you." Buck nearly choked as Wren's cheeks turned pink.
Buck sighed. "Ignore him."
"No." Ghost pointed toward Buck. "He misses you," Ghost said. Wren laughed, and the sound hit Buck right in the chest. Ghost immediately pointed at her, too. "And you smile like that every time you look at him."
"You're enjoying this too much,” Buck grumbled.
"Correct,” Ghost admitted. Wren crossed the room and sat between Ghost and Buck, close enough that her knee brushed his.
Buck immediately forgot what they were discussing.
The second facility, the mission, and everything that they had been planning were gone.
Wren leaned her head against his shoulder, and Buck wrapped an arm around her automatically.
Ghost watched the entire thing with suspiciously soft eyes as he took her hand into his own.
Then Wren ruined everything. "So when do we leave?
" Buck groaned, and just like that, the argument started all over again.
He had a feeling that he was fighting a losing battle, but taking Wren with them felt more dangerous than any other mission he and Ghost had ever been on—and that had everything to do with the possibility of losing the woman they loved.
An hour later, Buck stood outside beneath a sky full of stars as snow crunched beneath his boots while cold air filled his lungs. The north stretched endlessly around him, silent and beautiful. Sometimes, he forgot how dangerous it actually was.
Footsteps approached behind him, and he knew instantly that it was Wren. He knew her walk already, and that realization should've scared him. Instead, it felt right. She stopped beside him, and neither spoke for a moment. The silence felt comfortable now.
"You're going to say no, aren’t you?” she asked.
Buck looked over at her. "To what?"
"To me coming,” she said.
Buck smiled slightly. "You already know the answer."
She sighed dramatically. "I hate it when you're reasonable." Buck laughed softly.
Then his expression sobered. "Wren." She looked up at him, and Buck took her hand and held it. "I almost lost you." The words came out rougher than intended because the memory still hurt. It still terrified him.
Wren's expression softened instantly. "Buck?—"
"No." He squeezed her hand. "Listen." She did, because she understood this wasn't about control. It wasn't about ownership. It was fear—real fear. It was the kind that came from loving somebody too much.
Buck exhaled slowly. "I need one more day."
Wren blinked. "What?"
"One more day." Buck smiled faintly. "Tomorrow, we heal and finish planning."
She stared. "And the next day?" Buck looked toward the dark horizon, toward the fight waiting for them and the women who still needed help, and then back at the woman he loved.
"The next day," he said quietly, "we go to free those women, and we fight together.” Judging by the smile that spread across Wren's face, he'd just lost that argument, but he was okay with that.
The raid lasted fourteen minutes—fourteen bloody minutes.
That was all it took to destroy what remained of the trafficking network operating in King's territory.
Buck stood in the center of the compound while federal agents swarmed the property.
Floodlights illuminated the frozen landscape as women were being loaded into ambulances and traffickers were being loaded into handcuffs.
And for the first time in weeks, nobody was shooting at him.
Ghost stood beside him with his shoulder in a sling, and the bastard looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Well."
Buck glanced over at him. "What?"
Ghost grinned. "We won." Buck looked around slowly at the rescued women and the Kings—his brothers.
They had won the fight, and the final facility had fallen without the bloodbath Buck expected.
Mostly because Wren had figured out something nobody else had.
The accountant, not the guards and not the transport crew, was in charge.
He was a quiet man named David who handled the money laundering.
Wren traced discrepancies through wildlife grants and conservation contracts, and three hours later, federal agents had enough evidence to bring the entire operation crashing down.
There was no war, no burning buildings, and no bodies—just arrests. Buck had never been prouder.
"She's gonna be insufferable now,” Buck said.
Ghost laughed. "Absolutely." Buck smiled despite himself, and then he saw her.
Wren emerged from one of the command trailers carrying a thick folder beneath her arm.
Her curls escaped from a knit cap, and her cheeks were pink from the cold.
Somehow, she still stole every ounce of air from his lungs, and Ghost seemed to notice immediately.
"There it is again,” Ghost grumbled.
Buck sighed. "What?”
"The face,” Ghost said. Buck hated that Ghost wasn't wrong. He pulled Ghost into his body and kissed him hard on the lips, not caring who was watching.
“What was that for?” Ghost asked.
“You know, I get the same face when I look at you, too, right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Ghost breathed. Wren spotted them, and her smile appeared instantly. Buck felt something settle deep inside his chest. They had both become his home. Not the clubhouse or his club, but her and Ghost.
She walked over to them, and they put her between them, right where she liked to be.
“How’s our girl?” Buck asked. She smiled at them both, and something important clicked into place for Buck—neither of them was standing outside this anymore.
This thing between them belonged to all three of them now.
She wrapped her arms around his waist with no hesitation and no uncertainty—only trust. Buck held her tightly and buried his face briefly in her hair, breathing her in. She was alive, safe, and all theirs.
Wren looked up. "We got them,” she breathed.
Buck nodded. "We did." Tears filled her eyes immediately. It was pure relief—the kind that came after surviving something terrible. "We actually did it,” she said, kissing his cheek.
"Yeah, we did,” Buck agreed, kissing her forehead.
A throat cleared dramatically behind them—Ghost. Wren laughed through her tears, and Buck rolled his eyes.
He pulled Wren in for a kiss that turned Buck inside out with need, and when he finished with her, he gave Buck the same attention—like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was.
When they got back to the clubhouse, the three of them stood together watching the sunrise creep across the Manitoba wilderness. The nightmare was over, finally. Ghost wrapped his arms around them, letting the silence comfortably settle around them. It was the kind that didn't need filling.
Of course, Ghost ruined it. "As much as I enjoy standing around looking heroic—" Buck groaned, and Wren laughed, but Ghost continued anyway. "There's a small issue we need to talk about."
Buck narrowed his eyes at his guy. "What issue?"
Ghost grinned. "We never actually told Gorgon about any of this—or us." The Kings of Anarchy president still didn't know Buck and Ghost had fallen in love with the same woman, or each other, and that they were now together.
Ghost looked entirely too entertained. "Oh, this is gonna be fun." Buck immediately looked like he hated everything, and Wren burst out laughing. Ghost joined her, and Buck considered walking into the forest and living with wolves. It seemed easier.
A motorcycle engine interrupted the moment as the familiar roar rolled across the compound. Every King nearby immediately straightened, and Buck closed his eyes. “Shit.” Ghost started laughing before the bike even stopped, because they both knew that only one man rode like that—Gorgon.
The Kings of Anarchy president climbed off his bike and removed his helmet. He was massive, intimidating, and marriage hadn’t seemed to calm him down very much because he wore the same glare as he had before he left for his honeymoon.
His sharp gaze immediately found Buck, then Ghost, and then Wren, all standing together. Gorgon's eyebrows slowly climbed upward. "Oh," he said. Nobody spoke. Hell, no one even moved.
Gorgon looked directly at Buck and crossed his arms over his massive chest. "Well." Ghost nearly choked trying not to laugh, and Buck wanted to murder him. Wren looked nervous as a slow grin appeared on Gorgon’s face. He seemed far too amused. "When exactly were you planning on telling me?"
Ghost completely lost it, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Buck laughed too, because the war was over.
Their woman was safe, and the Kings had won.
And the future waiting in front of them suddenly looked brighter than anything he'd ever imagined.
For the first time in his life, Buck Lawson wasn't fighting for survival.
He was fighting for happiness. And this time, he intended to keep it.