Page 42 of Midnight Rebel

With that, we turn and head back toward The Manor, leaving the buzzing reporters behind. As soon as we’re out of sight, Autumn sags against me, the adrenaline wearing off.

“That was incredible,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re incredible.”

She smiles up at me, exhaustion and triumph warring in her eyes. “We did it, Colt.”

I nod, leading her back into The Manor. “We did. And now, Firefly, you need rest. The story can wait a few hours.”

Autumn looks like she wants to argue, but a yawn cuts her off. “Okay,” she concedes. “A few hours. But I need to report to my editor with an update.”

As I help her up the stairs to my room, I can’t help but marvel at the turn my life has taken. Just weeks ago, I was divided, torn between my duty to the MC and my family legacy.

Now, with Autumn by my side, I feel whole. United.

Whatever challenges lie ahead—dealing with the fallout of Frank’s betrayal, exposing the corrupt developers, rebuilding The Manor’s reputation—I know we’ll face them as one.

Autumn, me, and the MC. My family. We’re stronger united than we ever were apart.

As Autumn curls up in my bed, already half-asleep, I take a moment to simply watch her. This fierce, brilliant woman who crashed into my life and turned everything upside down. Who saw past my gruff exterior and loved me anyway.

“I love you, Firefly,” I whisper, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes flutter open, a soft smile curving her lips. “Love you, too, my hero,” she murmurs before drifting off to sleep.

I settle in beside her, pulling her close. Tomorrow will bring new challenges and battles to fight.

But for now, at this moment, all is right in my world.

Epilogue 1

Autumn

My coffee steams beside me,untouched, as I flip through the magazine in front of me for what must be the hundredth time.

My fingers trace the bold headline: “Shadow and Light: The True Story of Midnight Falls’ Historic Manor House.”

The words flow across the page with a certainty I don’t quite feel, making it almost seem like someone else wrote them, like it wasn’t me who uncovered Frank’s scheme or fought through those harrowing moments in the tunnels.

Yet here it is, in black and white, the truth finally exposed.

Carefully crafted paragraphs detail everything—the sabotage, the stolen money, the developers’ dirty deals to turn The Manor into soulless condos.

Most importantly, it reveals how the Midnight Riders played an integral role in bringing justice to light, transforming their reputation from menacing outlaws to unexpected guardians of the town’s heritage.

The café’s regulars are already deep into their morning routines—the elderly couple by the fireplace sharing theirusual crossword, college students with laptops crowding the communal table, and tourists pausing their ghost tour preparations to warm up with coffee and pastries.

From my vantage point at the window, I watch as another group poses for photos in front of the infamous ghost tour meeting point, their enthusiasm for the supernatural undampened by the bright spring morning.

A sudden shift in the room’s energy pulls my gaze to the door. Colt steps in, the doorbell above jangling as he strides in like he owns the place, his boots heavy on the hardwood, his leather jacket wrapped tight despite the spring warmth outside.

Even now, months after the article broke, heads still turn when he enters a room—but the looks are different now. Where there was once fear, there’s respect. The whispers that follow him are no longer suspicious but admiring.

He’s scanning the room, but when his eyes land on mine, his expression softens. The worry lines etched into his face over the past few weeks haven’t entirely disappeared, but today, they seem lighter.

The sight of him still makes my heart skip, still brings back flashes of that first night at the masquerade ball, of danger in dark tunnels, of every moment that led us here.

He crosses the room in a few long strides, pulling the chair out opposite me and sitting down without breaking eye contact.

His thumb brushes the back of my hand, a gesture so familiar now it feels like we’ve been doing this forever. “Admiring your handiwork?”

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