6. Rev
REV
Ifound him at his office.
Garrett Landscaping operates out of a small lot on the south side of town—a prefab building, a couple of work trucks, trailers loaded with mowers and equipment. It’s early, just past seven, and Niall is loading gear into his truck like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Like he didn’t put his hands on my woman twelve hours ago.
I parked the bike and walked toward him. He doesn’t notice me until I’m ten feet away. When he looks up, I watch the color drain from his face.
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.” He tries to sound confident. Fails. “Get off my property.”
“That’s not how this works.”
I keep walking. He backs up until he hits the side of his truck, nowhere left to go.
“You touched her.” I stop close enough to see the sweat beading on his forehead. “You put your hands on her and left bruises. You’ve been stalking her for four months, making her life hell, and you thought there wouldn’t be consequences.”
“She’s overreacting. We had a conversation, that’s all—”
“I saw the bruises.”
His mouth snaps shut.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I keep my voice low. Calm. “You’re going to stay away from Angel. You’re not going to go near her café. You’re not going to drive past her apartment. You’re not going to leave notes or send messages or ask anyone about her. She doesn’t exist to you anymore.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not telling you. I’m explaining your options.” I lean closer. “Option one: you disappear from her life completely, and this ends here. Option two: you don’t, and I make sure you regret it for the rest of your miserable existence.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Fear, maybe. Or the beginning of the rage I’ve been waiting for.
“You think you can threaten me?” His voice rises. “You’re just some thug biker. I’m a respected member of this community. I coach kids’ soccer. I volunteer. Everyone knows me.”
“Everyone knows the mask. They don’t know what’s underneath.”
“There’s nothing underneath! I’m a nice guy who made the mistake of falling for a woman who doesn’t know what she wants!”
“She knows exactly what she wants.” I smile, and it’s not friendly. “It’s not you.”
He snaps.
He swings at me—wild, sloppy, the punch of a man who’s never been in a real fight. I catch his fist, twist his arm behind his back, and drive him face-first into the side of his truck. He hits hard, grunting in pain.
“That was stupid,” I say against his ear. “But I was hoping you’d do it.”
I spin him around and hit him. Once, twice—short, brutal jabs that split his lip and send blood spraying across his shirt. He crumples against the truck, hands raised to protect his face.
“Stop—please—”
“Does it feel good? Being helpless? Having someone stronger than you do whatever they want?” I grab the front of his shirt, haul him upright. “That’s what you did to her. For four months. You made her feel small and scared and alone, and you enjoyed it.”
“I didn’t—I was just—”
“You were just a predator who picked the wrong target.”
I let him go. He slides down the side of the truck, landing on his ass in the gravel, blood dripping from his split lip.
“Niall?”
We both turn. A woman is standing in the doorway of the building next door—middle-aged, holding a coffee cup, staring at the scene in front of her with wide eyes. The sign above her reads “Desert Bloom Florist.”
“Call the police, Sandra!” Niall scrambles to his feet, pointing at me. “This maniac attacked me! He—”
“I saw what happened.” Her voice is flat. “You threw the first punch.”
“He threatened me! He—”
“I also heard what you said.” She sets down her coffee cup, crosses her arms. “About that woman. The one from the café.”
Niall’s face goes pale.
“My sister goes to that café,” Sandra continues. “She mentioned you’d been hanging around. A lot. Said the owner seemed uncomfortable every time you showed up.” Her eyes narrow. “I told her she was imagining things. That you were a nice guy.”
“I am a nice guy! This is all a misunderstanding—”
“Save it.”
A car pulls into the lot—a woman in workout clothes, probably picking up flowers. She takes one look at Niall’s bloody face, at me standing over him, at Sandra’s expression, and stops dead.
“What’s going on here?”
“Niall’s been stalking a woman,” Sandra says. “Her boyfriend came to deliver a message.”
“I haven’t been stalking anyone!” Niall’s voice cracks. “She led me on! She wanted the attention!”
“She told you no.” I look down at him—this pathetic, bleeding man who terrorized Angel for months. “Over and over again, she told you no. And you didn’t listen. That’s not her leading you on. That’s you refusing to hear the word.”
Niall opens his mouth. Closes it. The mask is gone now—cracked wide open, the ugly truth exposed for everyone to see. Sandra is looking at him like she’s never seen him before. The client is already backing toward her car, phone in hand.
“Stay away from her,” I say. “If I hear you’ve gone near her again—if I hear you’ve even said her name—I’ll be back. And next time, I won’t stop at a split lip.”
I turn and walk back to my bike. Behind me, I hear Sandra’s voice, cold and final:
“We’re done, Niall. No more referrals, no more shared clients. I don’t want your name anywhere near my business.”
I don’t look back.
Angel is at the café when I get there.
She’s behind the counter, setting up for the morning rush, but she stops the second I walk through the door. Her eyes scan my face, my hands—checking for damage.
“It’s done,” I say.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. He’s not.”
She comes around the counter and wraps her arms around me. I hold her tight, breathing her in—coffee and vanilla and something that’s just her. The rage that’s been burning in my chest since I saw those bruises finally starts to fade.
“What happened?” she asks against my chest.
“I delivered a message. Some of his office neighbors heard everything. Pretty sure he’s going to have a hard time keeping that nice-guy reputation.”
She pulls back to look at me. “You didn’t—”
“He threw the first punch. I just finished it.” I brush a strand of hair from her face. “He’s not going to bother you again. I made sure of it.”
Her eyes are wet. “Rev...”
“I told you I’d take care of it.”
“I know. I just—” She takes a shaky breath. “No one’s ever done that for me before. Shown up like that. Fought for me.”
“You’re worth fighting for.” I cup her face in my hands. “You’re worth everything, Angel. I’ve known that since the first time I saw you.”
“At the clubhouse? When Jonah—”
“Yeah. Six years ago. You were giving Lock shit about his burned burger and I couldn’t take my eyes off you.
” I swallow hard. This is the part I’ve been holding back.
The truth I’ve been carrying for years. “I’ve been showing up for you since before you knew.
Since before you even knew I existed. I just... didn’t know how to tell you.”
She stares at me. A tear spills down her cheek.
“I love you,” I say. “I’ve loved you for years. And I’m going to keep showing up, every day, for as long as you’ll let me.”
She kisses me.
It’s soft and sweet and tastes like tears, and I feel something shift into place in my chest. Something that’s been broken for a long time, finally whole.
When she pulls back, she’s smiling.
“You’re stuck with me now,” she says. “You know that, right?”
“Good.” I rest my forehead against hers. “That’s exactly where I want to be.”
The door opens. The first customer of the day. Angel pulls back, wiping her eyes, already shifting into work mode. But she’s still smiling.
I take my seat at the counter. My stool. The one that’s been mine since this whole thing started.
She pours me a coffee without asking. Black, just the way I like it.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Anytime.”
And just like that, we settle into our routine. Her behind the counter, me in my spot, the morning sun streaming through the windows of the café she built with her own two hands.
It took us a while to get here, but some things are worth the wait.
EPILOGUE
The cemetery is quiet this early in the morning.
I park the bike and walk through the rows of headstones, boots crunching on the gravel path. I’ve been here before—came to the funeral, came a few times after—but it’s been years. Too long.
I find him near the back, under a mesquite tree. The headstone is simple. Just his name, his dates, and the Sons of Ruin reaper etched into the stone.
Jonah “Wheels” Medina. Brother. Son. Rider.
I crouch down and set the flowers against the base. Yellow roses. His mom’s favorite, according to Angel. She mentioned it last week, and I filed it away without really knowing why.
Now I know.
“Hey, brother.”
My voice sounds strange in the silence. I clear my throat.
“It’s been a while. I know. I should’ve come sooner.” I stare at the headstone, at the reaper grinning back at me. “I’ve been busy. Or that’s what I told myself. Truth is, I didn’t know what to say.”
The wind moves through the mesquite, rustling the leaves. I take a breath.
“I’m with Angel now. Your sister.” I shake my head. “You probably already know that. Wherever you are, you’re probably laughing your ass off. The guy who couldn’t string two words together around her finally got his shit together.”
I pick at a thread on my jeans. This is harder than I thought it would be.
“I’ve loved her for a long time, Wheels.
Since before you died. I never said anything because—I don’t know.
She was your sister. It felt like crossing a line.
” I swallow hard. “And then you were gone, and she was grieving, and I couldn’t make it about me.
So I let her go. Told myself it was the right thing. ”
I start to arrange the flowers as I talk.
“She came to me. A few months ago. She was in trouble and she came to me for help, and I couldn’t say no. I’ve never been able to say no to her.” I exhale slowly. “And now she’s mine. Or I’m hers. However you want to look at it.”
I reach out, trace my fingers over the carved reaper.
“I’m going to take care of her Wheels. I promise you that. I’m going to love her and protect her and be there for her every single day. I’m going to give her the life she deserves.” My voice cracks, just slightly. “I just—I wanted you to know. And I wanted to ask—”
I stop. This is stupid. He’s gone. He can’t hear me. He can’t give me his blessing or his permission or whatever the hell I came here looking for.
But I say it anyway.
“I wanted to ask if it’s okay. If you’re okay with this. With me and her.”
The wind picks up again. The mesquite leaves shiver. And somewhere in the distance, I hear the sound of a car pulling into the lot.
I stand up, turning—and there she is.
Angel is walking toward me, a bouquet of yellow roses in her hands. She stops when she sees me. Looks at the flowers I brought. Looks at the ones she’s carrying.
Same flowers. Same idea. Same day.
“Rev.” Her voice is soft. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Anniversary,” I say. “Seemed right.”
She walks closer, looks down at the headstone. At the flowers already resting against it.
“You brought Mom’s favorite.”
“You told me.”
Her eyes are wet when she looks up at me. “How long have you been here?”
“A while. I was—” I stop. Start again. “I was talking to him. About us.”
She doesn’t ask what I said. She doesn’t need to. She steps into my arms and I hold her, the two of us standing over her brother’s grave with matching flowers and matching hearts.
“He’d be happy,” she whispers against my chest. “About us. He’d be so happy.”
“Yeah.” I press my lips to her hair. “I think he would, but only after he’d threatened me to never dare hurt you.” Angel laughs and nods in agreement.
We stay like that for a long moment. Then she pulls back, wipes her eyes, and takes my hand.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go home.”
We walk back to the bike together, leaving the yellow roses behind.
Wheels is gone. That’s never going to change. But his sister is beside me, her hand in mine, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure she knows she’s loved.
That’s enough.
That’s everything.
The End