Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Grace
I’m safe.
That's the first thought in my mind—not fear, not anxiety, not the hypervigilance I've lived with for weeks.
Just safety.
Shadow's arms are around me, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep.
His face is turned toward mine, and in the early morning light filtering through the curtains, I can see the cuts and bruises from last night's battle.
A gash along his cheekbone. Bruising on his jaw. Split knuckles on the hand resting on my hip.
Evidence of what he did for me.
He went to war. Killed for me. Nearly died for me.
And I'm not horrified by what he did. I'm grateful.
That should probably worry me—the fact that I've accepted this level of brutality as normal, as necessary, as love. But it doesn't.
This is my life now. This is who I married. This is what protection looks like in this world.
And I chose it, but more than that, I grew up in this life.
Maybe it was always in the cards for me to be with someone in the club, even if I didn’t always see it that way.
I trace the line of his jaw gently, careful not to wake him, but he stirs anyway.
His eyes open—those dark, intense eyes that see right through me.
"Morning, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
"Morning."
He pulls me closer, checking me over like he does every time he wakes up now.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Oh yes," I say, and the word feels like a revelation. "Because of you."
Something in his expression shifts and he chuckles softly. "Eh, I helped a little."
I lean in to kiss him, slow and sweet, when there's a sudden weight on the bed and a wet nose pushing between our faces.
Charlie.
She's wiggling with excitement, her tail wagging so hard her whole body shakes.
And most importantly—no cone.
I know she’s happy as all hell I took that damn thing off her.
"Good morning to you too, girl." I laugh, scratching behind her ears while she tries to lick both our faces at once.
Shadow groans but he's smiling. "She's got terrible timing."
"She's just happy we're home and safe." I sit up, and Charlie immediately sprawls across my lap. "Aren't you, baby?"
Charlie's answer is to roll onto her back, demanding belly rubs.
Shadow sits up beside me, wincing slightly.
The bruises on his torso are spectacular—purple and black and green, some from the fight, some from before.
"Let me see," I say, and he doesn't argue.
I carefully examine each bruise, each cut, each mark. Nothing needs stitches. Nothing looks infected.
He'll heal.
We both will.
My fingers find my own ribs, tracing the outline where the bandage used to be.
We removed it yesterday and the tattoo is healing nicely.
Shadow's name, permanently marked on my skin.
"It's perfect," Shadow says, his hand covering mine over his name on my ribs.
We get out of bed and head over to the clubhouse, leaving Charlie to chill out at home.
The main house smells like home—coffee, bacon, pancakes, all the comfort foods Mom makes when she's feeling emotional.
Dakota's already at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone, and she looks up when we walk in. "There they are. The war heroes."
"Stop," I say, but I'm smiling.
"I'm serious! You got kidnapped, caged, rescued, and then your husband went to Houston and killed a bunch of bad guys. That's like, movie shit."
Shadow's hand finds the small of my back. "It’s all behind us now."
Mom appears from the kitchen, takes one look at me, and immediately pulls me into a hug. "Baby girl. You're really okay?"
"I'm really okay, Mom."
She pulls back, examines my face—the fading bruise on my cheek, the healing cut on my lip—and her eyes fill with tears. "You're safe. You're really safe."
"Thanks to Shadow," I say, reaching back for his hand.
Mom looks at him, and her expression is complicated—gratitude, respect, maybe a little bit of motherly concern. "You brought her home. You protected her. Thank you."
Shadow looks uncomfortable with the gratitude. "It's what I'll always do."
"I know. I can see that." She wipes her eyes. "Now sit. Both of you. Breakfast is ready."
We settle at the table—me between Shadow and Dakota, Mom bustling around serving food. It's so normal, so domestic, so perfectly ordinary that I want to cry.
This is what I fought for. What Shadow fought for.
The front door opens and Dad walks in, still wearing his cut from last night, looking tired but satisfied.
"Morning," he says, helping himself to coffee. "Everyone sleep okay?"
"Like the dead," Dakota says, then winces. "Poor choice of words."
"It's fine." Phantom sits at the head of the table, and his eyes find mine. "Grace. You good?"
"I'm good, Dad."
"Good." He looks at Shadow. "We need to talk. This afternoon. At the clubhouse. Reinstatement ceremony."
Shadow's entire body goes still. "Prez?"
"You heard me. This afternoon. Four o'clock. Be there." Dad's voice is firm but not unkind. "You too, Grace. This concerns you."
My throat gets tight. "Okay."
The tension at the table is palpable, but Shadow's officially getting his patch back.
After breakfast, Shadow and I head back to our house.
We have a few hours before the ceremony, and I can tell Shadow's nervous even though he's trying to hide it.
"You okay?" I ask as we walk through the door.
"Yeah. Just... didn't think this would happen so fast."
"Dad doesn't waste time once he's made up his mind."
Shadow pulls me close. "Thank you. For standing by me through all of this. For being there."
"Always."
Charlie demands attention the second we’re through the door, and we take her for a walk around the property—just the three of us, enjoying the normalcy of it.
No threats. No danger. Just a married couple walking their dog on a beautiful Texas day.
The sky is that endless Texas blue, and the land stretches out around us—our land, our home, our future. Shadow's hand finds mine as we walk, and Charlie runs ahead, finally free of the cone, chasing butterflies through the tall grass.
"This is nice," Shadow says quietly.
"It is."
"Just... normal. Peaceful."
"We earned it."
He stops walking, turns to face me. "Grace, I need you to know something."
"What?"
"I'd do it all again. Every second of it. The exile, the fighting, all of it. To get to this moment right here with you."
I cup his face in my hands. "I know. And I'd choose you again. A thousand times."
We stand here in the middle of the pasture, just holding each other, and I think about how far we've come.
From secret meetings to this—standing together on our land, safe and whole and married.
Around two, I notice Shadow checking his phone.
"Nervous?" I ask.
"A little bit."
"Don't be. You’ve done this before, remember?" I playfully jab him in the side with my elbow.
He kisses me softly. "We should start getting ready."
Back at the house, I help Shadow pick out what to wear.
He's nervous—more nervous than I've seen him in a long time, even more than before we went to Houston.
"It's just a ceremony," I say gently, watching him change shirts for the third time.
"It's not just a ceremony. It's getting my life back. My brothers. My purpose." He looks at me, and I see the vulnerability he rarely shows. "What if something goes wrong? What if he changes his mind?"
"He won't." I cross to him, take his face in my hands. "Shadow, you earned this. You went to war for me. For his daughter. You killed the men who threatened our family. Dad doesn't change his mind about things like this."
"You're sure?"
"I'm positive." I kiss him softly. "Now put on the black shirt. It looks better."
He manages a small smile. "Yes, ma'am."
While Shadow finishes getting ready, I change into jeans and a simple blouse—nothing too fancy, but respectful for what’s about to happen.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and barely recognize myself.
I look... happy. Settled. At peace.
All the physical evidence of what I survived is disappearing.
But the emotional evidence—the strength, the certainty, the absolute conviction that I made the right choice—that's permanent.
Shadow appears behind me in the mirror, now dressed in dark jeans and a black button-down.
He looks good.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Are you?"
He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "Yeah. I think I am."
We take Charlie outside one more time, make sure she has food and water, and give her extra treats because we'll be gone for a while.
"Be good, girl," I tell her, scratching behind her ears. "We'll be back later."
Charlie wags her tail and settles onto her bed, content.
The drive to the clubhouse is quiet.
Shadow's hands are tight on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched with tension.
I reach over and take one of his hands, threading our fingers together.
"It's going to be okay," I say for what feels like the hundredth time.
"I know. I just—" He pauses. "I never thought I'd get this back. The patch. The club. Being part of something again. And now that it's happening, I'm afraid to believe it's real."
"It's real. We're really going to the clubhouse. Dad's really reinstating you. This is really happening."
Shadow brings my hand to his lips, kisses my knuckles. "Thank you for being here. For standing beside me."
"There’s no other place I’d rather be."
We pull into the clubhouse parking lot around three-thirty.
Brothers are already gathering—I see Thunder's bike, Blaze's truck, and Rogue leaning against the building smoking.
The Reapers Rejects brothers are still here too—Damon, Dixon, Shiver standing in a cluster talking.
Shiver sees us and grins. "Big day, brother."
Shadow nods, his jaw tight with tension.
Inside, the clubhouse is buzzing—brothers greeting each other, the anticipation building.
Mom's there too, helping organize things, and I make a mental note to talk to her about that later.
About boundaries. About moving on.
But not today. Today is about my husband.
"Grace." Dad appears, gestures toward the chapel. "Come on. It's time."