Chapter 24 RYDER
RYDER
I return to consciousness slowly, like something is dragging me up from deep water. At first, there’s only a dull sensation, then I feel the weight of blankets over me, followed by the faint pull of something taped to my skin. My throat is dry, mouth tasting like metal.
I’m in pain, but it’s distant and muted, kept behind a wall of medication. The air smells sterile and sharp with antiseptic, but beneath it is the scent of wood and leather. I know that scent. Iron Stallion. I’m back home. Why? Because I couldn’t keep my family safe, and we had to come here.
My eyes open up to a ceiling I don’t recognize, a room too large for a clinic and too personal for anything public. I blink and light filters through half-drawn curtains—soft gold instead of hospital white.
The memories slam in as I come to terms with my current surroundings: the attack, the rain, armed men, gunfire, getting shot, Kate’s hands slick with blood, and Julian’s cries. Everything after getting shot is a blur, including how I got here.
“Kate, Julian,” I call out, lifting my head, only to fall back on the pillow when I’m hit with a dizzy spell.
A chair scrapes, followed by warm hands on me. “She’s fine. They both are.”
I turn my head, and there’s Ella, my baby sister, her hair pulled back away from her face, eyes bright and rimmed with tears.
She looks older than the last time I saw her in person, but of course, ten years will do that.
She isn’t the kid sister trailing after the boys anymore; she’s a happily married woman now.
“How long have I been out?” I inquire.
“Three days.”
My jaw clenches. Three fucking days?! I hate that. I don’t like having lost time and gaps in my memory.
“Kate?” I ask again.
“She’s safe. They both are. Julian’s perfect. He looks just like you.”
“I know.”
“She hasn’t left your side. I had to make her.”
That doesn’t sit right with me, but I don’t say anything after that, and the silence stretches. Ella’s breathing changes, becoming uneven now. I look back at her and see it—the crack in her composure widening. She starts blinking too hard, once, twice, and then her face crumples.
“God,” she whispers, voice breaking. “You’re so stupid. How dare you come back after all this time, on the brink of death? It’s like you only remembered we exist when you’re half dead.”
My chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with stitches. “Ella…”
She looks at me, eyes furious. “Do you have any idea what it does to Dad? To Zane? To all of us? Beck’s been pacing like a damn caged animal.
And me—“ She laughs brokenly. “I’m supposed to be the calm one, to hold it together because everyone else is a man with too much pride, but how could I when we almost lost you?”
I reach for her, my hand finding her small wrist. “I’m here. I’m okay.”
She shakes her head, tears spilling. “You shouldn’t have to almost die to come home.”
I don’t have an answer for that, so I do the only thing I can: I hold on.
She leans forward, pressing her forehead briefly against my knuckles. “You scared me.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I manage, voice rough. “Please stop crying. You know I’m not good with tears.”
She chuckles, and it’s a broken sound, but it’s there.
Before she can tear me a new one, the door opens. Ella straightens fast, wiping her face like she can erase the last five minutes with sheer will. She lifts her chin, armor snapping back into place, even if her eyes are still too bright.
Dad steps in, filling the doorway. He’s older now, more grey at the temples, the lines around his mouth deeper, carved by years of holding a family together with sheer force of presence.
His eyes land on me, but they don’t soften, at least not immediately.
They assess first, then he nods once, almost imperceptible.
“Son.”
“Dad.”
He moves closer, stopping at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets, posture unreadable. “You look like hell.”
A faint huff escapes me. “And I feel like it.”
“Good. It means you’re awake.”
Zane walks in next, all broad shoulders nearly blocking out the light. He’s our firstborn, Iron Stallion’s foreman, and the one who carries the ranch on his back like it’s an extension of his spine. His gaze drops to the bandages, the IV, and his jaw tightens.
“Idiot,” he scoffs.
“Missed you too,” I grunt, earning me a smirk.
Jace rolls in next. Even in his wheelchair, he exudes sharp energy and a soldier’s stillness wrapped in ranch clothes. He and I served in different branches, but it seems we never really left the service—too much of that is still ingrained in us.
“You always had to do things the hard way,” he mocks.
I shrug. “It’s a bad habit. I know.”
And then—
“LOOK WHO FINALLY CRAWLED HOME!”
Beck, of course.
He barrels in like a storm, wearing a grin, hair a mess, eyes laden with humor that’s doing heavy lifting. He looks healthier than the last time I saw him, sturdier, definitely clean, with recovery carved into him like a second skin.
He stops at the side of the bed and spreads his arms. “I would hug you, but you’re basically a stitched-together corpse, and Ella would murder me.”
Ella’s glare could cut steel. “Correct.”
Beck leans in anyway, voice dropping conspiratorial. “Did you seriously only come back because you got shot? You couldn’t just… visit?”
I lift my hand weakly, and he lights up. “Oh! He’s flipping me off. That’s how you know he’s okay.”
Zane snorts, Jace’s mouth twitches, while Dad watches all of it like he’s pretending not to be relieved. It’s been a decade since we were all in the same space like this. Ten years since I let myself stand under the same roof as the people who knew me before the scars, before the ghosts.
They’ve all changed, but so have I. Zane’s got more weight of responsibility in his eyes, Jace’s edges are sharper, honed by war and fatherhood. Beck, well, Beck looks like a man who fought his own demons and somehow came out breathing. And Dad looks tired. Not weak—never weak—just tired.
He clears his throat. “You’re going to be okay, son. Welcome back.”
Beck rocks back on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets. “So, since we’re all here and you’re not dead, how about we address the elephant in the room?”
“Beck,” Zane warns.
“What?” Beck holds up a hand. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
Jace crosses his arms, picking up from where Beck and I left off. “He’s right. What’s the deal with Kate and Julian?”
They are all looking at me, waiting for answers. I could dodge, lie the way I always have, keep the door shut, but there’s no point since I’m sure they’ve already figured it out by now.
“They’re mine,” I decree.
Ella’s breath catches softly by my side, Beck’s eyebrows shoot up, Zane doesn’t blink, and Jace’s gaze sharpens—soldier brain recalculating everything.
Dad is the one to cut into the silence. “So you’re aware that the boy is yours?”
I nod. “It’s kind of obvious. I knew it the moment I saw his eyes.”
“And Kate?” Jace inquires, voice careful.
“Kate is complicated. We still haven’t figured out what we are, but they are my family. Unexpected, but mine,” I answer, the words absolute.
“Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” Zane chuckles.
Jace exhales slow. “About time you brought something home besides trouble.”
Beck grins, relief bleeding into humor. “Technically, he brought home both.”
“Beck!” Ella snaps.
“What? It’s the truth.”
Jace’s gaze stays on me, steady. “You sure about them?”
I meet his eyes so he can see the sincerity in mine. “Yes.”
He nods like that’s enough, thus ending the interrogation. They all accept without further questions, and that hits me somewhere deep. I didn’t realize how much I’d braced for rejection.
Beck claps his hands once, breaking the heaviness. “Well then, family meeting adjourned. He’s alive, he’s stubborn, he’s apparently a father, and—“
“Get out,” Ella says, voice sharp.
Beck laughs, hands raised. “Fine, fine. I’m leaving. Get better soon, bro.”
Zane gives me one last look. “Rest. We’ll handle everything else after you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you.”
Jace follows, quieter. “Welcome back, Ryder.”
One by one, they leave the room, and silence returns, but it isn’t lonely. Only it doesn’t last long. Footsteps approach again—lighter this time, hesitant at the edge, like whoever it is doesn’t know if they’re allowed to take up space.
I know who it is before I see her. The door opens slowly, and Kate steps in—barefoot, hair loose around her shoulders, exhaustion carved into the softness of her face.
Her eyes are swollen like she’s been crying in private.
Julian is bundled against her, wide awake, his dark gaze alert as if he already understands that this room matters.
She stops just inside the doorway, and for a moment, she doesn’t move, and neither do I. The air feels heavy with everything we haven’t said. Then Julian lets out a small sound—half babble, half complaint—and Kate’s expression cracks.
She crosses the room quickly, like she can’t stand the distance anymore. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” I nod, my voice rougher than I intend.
Her lips tremble. “You’ve been out for three days.”
“So I’m told.”
A wet laugh escapes her, broken immediately by tears spilling down her cheeks. She looks furious at herself for it, wiping them quickly like she can scrub the fear away.
“Are you okay?” I ask even though I can tell she’s not.
“I’m fine,” she lies, but I don’t call her on it.
She steps closer, and suddenly Julian is right there—close enough that I can see every detail, the curl of his lashes, the familiar seriousness in his eyes that shouldn’t exist in a baby.
My son.
She shifts him higher. “Do you want to hold him?”
I don’t hesitate as my arms lift slowly, limited by soreness, but my body knows what to do anyway. She leans forward, placing him against my chest. The moment his weight settles into me, something deep and locked inside my ribs gives way.
Julian stares up at me with unsettling focus, then he smiles—all wide and gummy happiness.
“Hey buddy,” I murmur, voice cracking around the edges.
His tiny hand lifts, fingers curling clumsily against my shirt. He’s warm, real, and all mine.
Kate’s breath shudders, and I turn to look at her.
“I was so scared,” she admits.
She’s standing there like she’s holding herself together with string—eyes shining, lips pressed tight to keep from falling apart again.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I keep apologizing to everyone, but I know it’s because I had them all worried. I shift carefully, wincing as pain flares, but I reach for her anyway. My free hand catches her wrist, pulls her closer. “I’m here now, and I’m okay.”
Kate laughs through a sob. “Barely.”
“Still counts.”
Her eyes lift to mine—raw and furious. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
It isn’t a request. It’s a demand.
I should tell her I can’t promise that. That my life is built on violence and consequences, and that danger doesn’t stop because I want it to. But Julian sighs softly against my chest, his body warm and trusting, and Kate is standing close enough that I can feel her shaking.
So I don’t give her the truth. I give her what she needs. “I’m here now.”
She closes her eyes like the words physically steady her, then she leans in—but not to kiss me, just to press her forehead briefly against my shoulder, careful of my injuries. I hold her there, Julian between us.
Danger still lurks outside these walls, but I’ve kept them safe once, and I’ll do so again, until they are forever safe.