Page 44 of Midnight Rebel

I smile, remembering her determined expression at last week’s business meeting, how she commanded the room with a quiet authority that reminded me so much of Colt.

“She told me she’d spent too many years letting others handle things for her. Said it was time she remembered she’s a Montgomery too.”

“That she is,” Colt says with a slight smirk. “Though I could’ve done without her reorganizing my entire office.”

“At least she didn’t touch your bike,” I tease, then grow more serious. “It’s good, you know? Seeing her take charge, making The Manor her own again. She’s even talking about expanding the events calendar, working with local businesses.”

Colt nods, his expression thoughtful as he watches a tour group gather outside. “Been thinking about that. Some of the people the MC’s helped recently—you know, the ones staying at the safe house? A couple of them have experience in hospitality and business management.”

“That could work,” I say, sitting up straighter, my mind already spinning with possibilities. “Give them a fresh start, and Margaret gets the help she needs.”

“Exactly. The Manor’s big enough to offer housing too, at least temporarily.” His voice softens, and I see the same hope in his eyes that I feel building in my chest. “The MC’s always been about second chances. Now The Manor could be too.”

The idea settles between us, full of possibility. Outside, the morning sun bathes the street in golden light, making even the fake cobwebs in the café windows sparkle.

“We could check in every few weeks,” I suggest. “I can write remotely most of the time anyway, and the MC makes regular runs through here.”

“You don’t play fair, Colton Montgomery,” I say, shaking my head but unable to hide my smile.

His smirk deepens as he lifts my hand to his lips. “I don’t play at all when it comes to you.”

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes against the table. The screen lights up with Skylar’s name, and I laugh as I read her message aloud.

“You better be kissing that hot, dangerous biker boy right now. And if you’re not, I’ll never forgive you.”

My best friend’s timing has always been impeccable. Our reflection catches in the window—a study in contrasts.

The journalist and the biker. An unlikely pair who found more than just the truth while saving The Manor—we found each other.

Colt chuckles, the sound low and inviting—then suddenly tugs me into his arms, pulling me across the table for a swift, thorough kiss that knocks the breath out of me.

Someone whistles from across the café, probably one of the regular customers who’s watched our story unfold these past months.

When we part, I’m left grinning like a fool, but also entirely at peace.

We may have faced monsters in the tunnels—the real and imagined kind—but sitting here with Colt in this cozy café while the morning sun casts golden light through the windows, there’s a clarity I’ve never known before.

This man, this town, these plans we’re making—everything feels right.

As Colt’s arms tighten around me, I know we’ve both finally found our true home–with each other.

Epilogue 2

Autumn

I stareout the window of Margaret’s private sitting room—my old room now, technically, though that still feels strange to think about.

The late October sun casts long shadows across The Manor’s restored grounds, where carved pumpkins line the paths leading to the rose garden.

Through the antique glass, I can see the transformation we’ve worked so hard to achieve these past two years.

We have repaired any wear and tear in the house; the gardens are blooming, and we even made the tunnels safe again.

Light plays across the vintage lace of my dress, the scattered crystals twinkling like fireflies in the dusk—a fitting tribute to the nickname that started everything.

Two years ago, I never would have imagined this moment, never would have dreamed that the mysterious biker at a masquerade ball would become my everything.

“Stop fidgeting with the dress, dear,” Margaret says, her practiced hands smoothing my veil into place. Her eyes meetmine in the ornate mirror. “Every Montgomery bride has stood before this mirror, wrestling with butterflies. The Manor makes us all a little nervous on our big day.”

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