Epilogue
Lucy
The new house still smelled like fresh paint and sawdust. Bare walls, mismatched furniture hauled in from the clubhouse, and a porch big enough for a line of boots—it wasn’t perfect, but it was ours.
I leaned against the counter, watching Jay wrestle with a box labelled ‘KITCHEN - DO NOT LOSE.’ His kutte was slung over a chair instead of his back. Domestic. Almost normal.
Then came the rumble of engines, heavy, low, familiar. Riot and Keno were at the door, both stone-faced.
“One more thing to tie up before we go legit,” Riot said.
I grabbed my jacket, and Jay’s hand brushed my lower back as he followed me out. “Let’s end this.”
The four of us walked side by side, Riot and Keno flanking. A black SUV idled across the gravel, headlights slicing the darkness. The cartel rep stepped out in a pressed suit and silver tie pin, eyes sharp as broken glass. Not muscle but a man who made other men bleed for him.
His gaze landed on me first. He smiled, thin and knowing.
“So, it’s true. Kane blood still runs strong in this town. Your father dealt with us once. Never bent. I wondered if his daughter would.”
“I’m not my father,” I said steady, “but I learned from him. Sometimes strength isn’t bending. Sometimes it’s knowing when to walk away.”
Jay slid the flash drive across the hood of the SUV. The rep studied it, then studied me.
“You’re offering peace?”
Jay’s voice cut in flat. “The Knights are out. No more shipments, no more secrets. That drive disappears, and so do we.”
The rep’s eyes lingered on me, not Jay. “And if we don’t believe you?”
I stepped closer chin high. “You’ll never see the Dead Knights in your business again. You forget us, we forget you that’s the deal.”
Silence stretched thick and dangerous. Then Jay spoke, his voice low but steady, carrying the weight of a man who’d bled for the patch. “If anyone questions it, it’s on me. The Dead Knights ride clean from here on out. That’s my word.”
The cartel rep studied him for a beat then smiled again, sharper this time. He picked up the drive and slipped it into his jacket.
“You’ve got more steel than your father,” he said to me. Then, to Jay, he stated, “And you’ve got more sense than most men in your position. Don’t waste it.”
Jay nodded, and I held my breath.
“Oh, and the man you called Bishop . . .”
Jay tensed beside me, and my heart thumped. “Yeah?” Jay asked.
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s been dealt with.” Then he climbed back into the SUV. The headlights flared, gravel sprayed, and the car rolled away into the night.
For a moment, none of us spoke. The air still hummed with danger, like a storm that had passed but left the ground smoking.
Riot gave me the faintest nod approval tucked behind his shades. Then Keno turned, eyes narrowing on me like he was seeing me for the first time. The man who hadn’t trusted me enough to let me through the clubhouse door leaned in close.
“Guess you’re not just Kane’s little sister after all,” he muttered. After a beat, he added, “You did good.”
Jay’s hand found mine, warm and solid. “You did more than good,” he said quiet. “You gave us a way out.”
I didn’t look back at Keno or Riot, but I felt the weight of their words settle in me. Acceptance. Respect. The kind you couldn’t fake or buy. The kind you earned.
We walked back towards the bikes together, gravel crunching under our boots, the night air finally clean.
The end