“Highway!” someone shouts, but I barely nod.
Not stopping.
Can’t stop.
She’s here somewhere.
The back of the clubhouse is where the noise dulls to murmurs and chuckles. That’s where I find her—Lyric, my woman. She throws her head back, and a cascade of hair tumbles around her face as she laughs at something Jet says. Jet, with her dark hair and eyes that have seen too much.
My heart beats a little faster at the sight of Lyric. It’s love, pure and fierce. Seeing Lyric happy and hearing that uninhibited laugh feels like a jolt to my heart. “Hey, babe,” I say as I approach.
Her laughter winds down, and those bright eyes lock onto mine.
“Highway,” she greets, her smile still in place, like she knew I’d come looking for her, and she’s been waiting.
“Jet.” I nod, acknowledging her without taking my eyes off Lyric. She tips her chin up by way of a greeting.
Lyric turns in her seat, and I catch a glimpse of that spark in her eyes that tells me she’s exactly where she wants to be—with me, with us, and in this life we’ve chosen, dangerous edges and all.
“Missed you,” Lyric says, simple and true, like everything about us.
“Back at you,” I reply, because what else is there to say?
There’s a space next to her on the log, so I sit beside her. My hands find her waist, fingers gripping with a touch of ownership. With a fluid motion that’s as natural to her as breathing, she’s on my lap, perched like she belongs there because…she does.
With ease, I pull her closer. I’m rough around the edges, always have been, but with her, it’s different. She leans back against me, a perfect fit, and I can’t help but think how right it feels—a puzzle piece snapping into place.
Reaper strides in, Lucy tucked at his side, her bubbly personality a stark contrast to his dark presence. They’re another piece, another perfect damn fit.
“Highway,” Reaper nods, dropping onto the log across us like he owns it. His voice, a low rumble, cuts through the din of rowdy bikers and clinking glasses.
“Reaper,” I acknowledge.
This is family.
This is brotherhood.
Lucy grins, eyes flicking to where Lyric sits on me. “Looks cozy,” she says, her voice lilting with laughter.
“Life goals,” I say with a smirk, watching them settle in. There’s nothing but truth in those words.
My mind drifts for a second, Creed with Devil, Reaper with Lucy, all of us finding anchors in the storm. Rough men with hearts that beat fiercely for their women. The thought punches a grin onto my face, fierce and proud.
Justice strolls in, eyes scanning the area like he’s casing the joint. He’s got that look—cool, calculated, every inch the enforcer he is. But when his gaze lands on Jet, something shifts. It’s subtle, but I catch it, the hard lines softening just a fraction.
“Jet,” he says, his voice smooth as whiskey, pulling up a chairnext to her with a confidence that’s all Justice.
“Hey,” she replies, and damn if she doesn’t blush, her smile shy but lighting up her face.
“Having fun?” Justice asks, leaning in, close enough to share secrets or steal kisses.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He grins and then holds out a beer for her.
Jet takes it, twists off the top, and clinks the bottle against his. The grin he’s wearing grows bigger, and I see how much he likes the broken woman.
“Upstairs?” Lyric whispers against my neck, her breath hot, sending shivers down my spine.
