Instead, he shifted his stance, widening his feet so he didn’t have to bend down to reach her. He kissed her, soft and sure, and for a heartbeat she let herself pretend it was enough.
When he pulled back, he smiled. “See ya when I see ya.”
Diamond echoed him with a steady voice, “See ya when I see ya.”
But it was the way he said it—casual, unfinished—that made her realize he wasn’t any surer than she was about what would happen next.
She gave him her usual smile, the one that didn’t give anything away, and climbed back into the cab. As she pulled away, she didn’t look back. Couldn’t.
She had a two-hour drive ahead of her. Two hours to let her heart quietly break.
After that, she’d put Sayer behind her. Lock him in the same mental box where she kept every other what-if. And maybe—just maybe—enough time would pass and she’d get over the possibility of being his.
Epilogue
It tookthe Harlots a solid month to rebuild their system, making it stronger—more secure—than the one that had been breached. Fifi, after running a dozen stress tests and simulating multiple attacks, finally leaned back in her chair with a satisfied grin.
“No one’s getting in this time,” she’d said. And Diamond believed her.
Now, Diamond sat at the long table in the chapel, listening as Fifi explained every detail that had gone into rebuilding the system—new firewalls, multi-layered encryption, a rotating VPN that changed locations every hour. It was a fortress wrapped in code.
During that month, they’d reached out to every single person they worked with—the safehouses, the underground transporters, the scattered allies who helped them move abused individuals to safety. They’d owned up to the breach, made it clear it had been the work of a single individual, and laid out everything they were doing to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.
Some understood immediately. Others understood, but were still rightfully upset. Trust was fragile in their line of work, and any crack in the foundation could send everything crumbling.
But not one person had said they’d stop working with the Harlots.
Maddyn had been instrumental in keeping things calm, acting as a voice of steady reassurance while Diamond focused on patching the pieces back together.
And then, there was Seven.
She’d shown up a week after Diamond returned from Montreal—riding in on a sleek denim-blue Dyna Bob, saddlebags packed tight with everything she owned. No announcement. No warning. Just showed up, parked her bike, and said she wanted to prospect.
Diamond hadn’t given her an answer. Not right away.
She’d let Nova bring it to a vote.
The girls had looked Seven over—sized her up without saying a word—and then, one by one, they’d nodded. Gave her a chance. A shot to prove her worth. The fact she came with the seal of approval from Maddyn went a long way.
And Seven? She’d simply said, “I won’t let you regret it.”
Diamond didn’t know yet if that was true. But something in her gut told her that denim-blue Dyna wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
She hadn’t seen or heard from Sayer in that month, which didn’t surprise her. He was handling his chapter, and she was handling hers. That was the reality of it. Clean lines. Separate lanes.
Still, there were moments—early in the morning or just before she fell asleep—when she’d catch herself wondering if he was okay. If he’d gotten through whatever fire waited for him in Montreal. But she never reached out. And neither did he.
So when the Royal Bastards extended an invitation to a club event at their Montreal clubhouse, Diamond didn’t hesitate. She sent back a polite but firm decline.
There was no reason to play nice. No reason to stay cozied up to the Bastards just for the sake of appearances. The Harlots weren’t a puppet chapter, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to start treating them like one.
Nova didn’t ask questions when Diamond turned the invite down, just gave her a look that said she understood more than she let on.
“Just keeping the circles clean,” Diamond had said, tossing the letter onto her desk like it didn’t mean a thing.
But it had meantsomething. At least, to her.
She just didn’t let it show.
