Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Aurora
It takes a while for me to learn that small-town politics is just high school with better lighting and snacks.
The town council meeting is in the high school gym, which feels aggressively symbolic. Folding chairs. Fluorescent lights. A microphone that screams every time someone breathes near it. There’s a “Go Wildcats!” banner hanging behind the podium as if civic conflict pairs nicely with pep rallies.
I did not plan to attend.
I was dragged.
By “dragged,” I mean Finn said, “Oh, you absolutely need to see this,” and Zane handed me my jacket without asking, which in Zane language means we are going, and I am not debating it.
Ryder is already there when we walk in. Button-down shirt. Dark jeans. Clean boots. He looks like a man auditioning for Responsible Business Owner Who Definitely Does Not Lead a Motorcycle Club.
He’s also radiating a level of controlled irritation that could power the building.
We take seats behind him.
A man who quickly introduces himself as Benjamin Wren stands at the podium with a confidence I definitely don’t enjoy seeing.
Benjamin is the kind of man who says “optics” in casual conversation.
“I’m simply raising a concern,” he says into the microphone, which immediately squeals like it disagrees.
Finn leans toward me. “Even the tech is against him.”
I bite back a smile.
Benjamin smooths his blazer. “We have worked very hard to cultivate a safe, family-oriented environment here in Coyote Glen.”
He says it like he personally handcrafted the environment out of reclaimed wood.
“And it has come to my attention,” he continues, holding up a packet of papers, “that the new ownership of The Hollow has documented ties to organized motorcycle activity outside of this town.”
The word organized lands dramatically.
The word motorcycle makes three older women in front of us gasp as if someone said satanic.
Finn mutters, “Oh no. Not activity.”
Zane doesn’t react outwardly, but I feel his knee bump mine once under the chair.
Benjamin begins listing things.
Dates.
Incidents.
Associations.
Nothing current. Nothing concrete. But enough to sound ominous under gymnasium lighting.
Mayor Hartwell clears her throat as if she regrets every life choice that led her here. “Mr. Wren, if you have concerns, we can review them through proper channels.”
“That’s precisely what I’m requesting,” Benjamin replies smoothly. “A formal review. A reassessment of licensing standards for establishments whose ownership history may pose a safety concern.”
I glance at Ryder.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t even fidget.
Finn leans in again. “If he says ‘standards’ one more time, I’m starting a drinking game.”
I whisper, “We are in a school gym.”
“Details.”
Judge McDowell, who looks like she wandered in from a courtroom drama, leans forward. “Perception matters in a town like ours.”
Oh, we are doing this.
I scan the room and spot Dottie in the front row with her phone angled slightly too casually.
She’s absolutely livestreaming.
There will be hashtags by bedtime.
Benjamin continues, “Motorcycle gangs are not traditionally associated with stability.”
Ryder stands.
“Mayor,” he says evenly. “The Hollow operates legally. We pass inspections. We follow local ordinance.”
Benjamin smiles in a way that makes me want to throw a folding chair.
“This isn’t about paperwork. It’s about history.”
Ryder’s gaze locks on him. “Everyone has one.”
The gym hums.
It’s subtle, but I see the shift. The way some people lean in instead of away.
Because here’s the thing about Ryder: he doesn’t look like a villain. He looks like a man who builds things.
Benjamin tries again. “With respect, you don’t always get to decide when trouble follows you.”
That one hits.
Because it’s not just about the past.
It’s predictive.
Suggestive.
Hinting at something.
My stomach flips.
Finn straightens beside me. His joking evaporates.
Zane’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.
Mayor Hartwell sighs deeply. “We will review the matter. There will be a follow-up session next week.”
Next week.
Which means this becomes A Thing.
Benjamin gathers his papers with excitement because he thinks he’s won.
Dottie’s thumbs are flying.
Judge McDowell nods solemnly, as if solemn nodding is a hobby.
People start whispering.
“Motorcycle gang…”
“I heard they used to…”
“Is it safe…”
I stand before I realize I’m doing it.
“Excuse me,” I say, clear enough to cut through the chatter.
Three heads snap toward me. Including Ryder’s.
Which, okay, mildly terrifying.
“I just want to clarify something,” I continue, smiling brightly because weaponized charm is my coping mechanism. “The Hollow hosts trivia night, live acoustic sets, and a bake sale fundraiser next month. If this is a criminal enterprise, it’s the least efficient one I’ve ever seen.”
There’s a ripple of laughter.
Benjamin blinks.
Finn whispers, “Oh, she came armed.”
Zane doesn’t look at me, but his shoulder relaxes a fraction.
I press on. “If the concern is safety, then review safety protocols. If the concern is licensing, review licensing. But vague references to ‘history’ feel more like… gossip.”
Benjamin’s smile tightens.
Mayor Hartwell nods slowly. “Noted.”
Ryder is staring at me like I just stepped into traffic.
But there’s more in his expression too.
Pride.
Which I will absolutely not unpack right now.
The meeting dissolves into chair scraping and murmurs.
Outside, the evening air feels cooler than it should.
Finn exhales. “Well. That was fun.”
“That was not fun,” I say.
“That was moderately fun.”
Zane opens the passenger door of Ryder’s truck without comment.
Ryder remains a second.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
He studies me. “They’re trying to box us.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “They’re bad at it.”
His mouth almost curves, which, honestly, could be a civic victory.
We pile into the truck in that slightly too quiet way people do after something public and humiliating but technically “civil.” Ryder drives. Zane rides shotgun. Finn and I are in the back, because apparently I’m now escorted at all times.
Main Street slides by outside the window, string lights beaming, storefronts closing, the town looking deceptively peaceful.
“I give it twenty minutes before Dottie captions that ‘Concerned Citizens Demand Accountability,’” Finn says.
“Thirty,” I counter. “She’ll need time to pick a dramatic filter.”
Zane glances at the rearview mirror. “Ignore it.”
“Can’t,” Finn replies lightly. “It’s going to grow legs.”
Ryder’s hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel. “We’ll handle it.”
Which is comforting, and also heavy.
The truck turns toward The Hollow.
I stare at the neon sign coming into view and feel my chest twist painfully.
The guys are already shifting gears.
I can feel it.
Ryder’s in strategy mode.
Zane’s in fortify mode.
Finn’s in monitor and make jokes until it’s serious mode.
And I…
“I need coffee,” I blurt.
Three heads turn.
“You just had coffee,” Finn says.
“That was council coffee,” I reply. “This is coping coffee.”
Zane’s mouth twitches.
Ryder studies me. “I can get you one inside…”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m going to the Coyote Cup. I need… noise. And caffeine. And possibly Lani.”
Finn leans forward, draping his arms over the seat. “You want backup?”
I smile. “I think I can get coffee from across the street.”
Ryder doesn’t argue.
“I’ll be fine,” I insist gently. “You guys go back to the bar. Plot. Brood. Adjust security cameras. Whatever it is you do when you use words like ‘perimeter.’”
Finn grins. “We do look very impressive with blueprints.”
Ryder exhales slowly, then nods once. “Call if you need anything.”
“Always.”
And just like that, the masculine intensity of civic confrontation dissolves into the warm glow of a coffee shop.
The bell over the door jingles when I step inside.
Coyote Cup smells of cinnamon and sugar and safety.
Lani looks up immediately.
She takes one look at my face and says, “Oh no.”
Which is both comforting and deeply concerning.
“Large latte,” I say, collapsing onto a stool. “And possibly an emotional support muffin.”
She slides a mug toward me before I even finish the sentence.
“Council meeting?” she asks.
“Is it that obvious?”
“You look like someone just sat through a PowerPoint titled ‘Community Standards.’”
I groan. “They said ‘safety concern.’ Out loud. In a gym. Under a Wildcat banner.”
Lani gasps dramatically. “Oh, that’s aggressive.”
I wrap my hands around the mug and let the heat sink into my palms.
“They’re going to review The Hollow’s license,” I say. “Next week.”
She nods slowly. “Benjamin’s been sniffing around for weeks. I thought he might go after The Hollow. He goes after everyone at first. It’s his MO.”
That makes my head snap up. “Weeks?”
“Yeah. Asking questions. About Ryder. About the club. About where the money came from.”
My stomach tightens. “That feels… orchestrated.”
Lani leans in. “Benjamin doesn’t dig. Benjamin collects. But he doesn’t often win.”
Before I can spiral further, the bell over the door jingles.
Ivy walks in.
I like Ivy immediately and instinctively. She has the energy of someone who would absolutely set something on fire if it deserved it.
She’s flanked, and not by her children or her handsome men.
It’s giving council of beautiful, mildly dangerous women.
“Aurora,” she calls out excitedly. “Thank goodness you’re here. I have been dying to introduce you to everyone.”
I blink as Ivy strides toward me, all energy and confidence, but there’s something about the women following her that makes my heart race. There’s a certain unspoken strength in how they walk. Each of them has a different vibe, but they’re all somehow… magnetic.
I rise from the stool just as Ivy reaches the counter, her grin already big enough to light up the room.