Page 115 of Claimed By the Biker Brothers

“Thank you,” she says, her gaze softening. “Your forgiveness means everything right now.”

“You’re going to have to earn it,” I reply, raising my chin in faux pride.

“Anything.”

“Those hot pockets you make from scratch sound like a good way to start,” I say.

“Done.” Her phone pings again. More updates. “It’s going to keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

Samson chuckles dryly. “Let the good news flow, kiddo. Oh, by the way, what’s going to happen to Spalding’s investigation into the MC? The charges, all that crap…”

“It’s all dropped. Your club is as clean as a whistle, with a formal apology from the DEA underway,” Ellie says. “Marlo’s in jail, pending arraignment. She’ll never get a chance at bail, though, not after everything that’s happened.”

“Good. She can rot in jail as far as I’m concerned.”

“And Paulie?” Samson asks.

I give him a curious look. “You want him back?”

“Have I gotten too soft?” He’s genuinely wondering.

“He’s good people,” Ellie says. “He really was trying to help you guys as best as he could.”

The idea of his betrayal stung deeply. But at the end of the day and after careful reflection, I’d be quite the hypocrite if I continued to hate the guy after forgiving Ellie. They were both on our side; we just didn’t know it, and they couldn’t tell us anything either. Plausible deniability, Jagger said. And it makes sense. The guys dealt with that in the military frequently enough to see the sense in Ellie’s and Paulie’s actions, which is why they’re not holding a grudge.

“I’ll talk to Knox about it,” Samson says and sighs again. “Maybe we can let the kid back in.”

“He just wanted to live,” Ellie tells me. “I told him I’d give him a signal to sneak out of the room. Paulie didn’t want to die by Calvin’s side.”

“I understand.”

“It doesn’t make him a coward,” Samson adds. “It doesn’t make him a lion either.”

I can’t help but smile. “Even a Rider knows when to retreat, right, Samson?”

“Right.”

My phone buzzes. I check the message and giggle softly. “I have to go,” I tell Samson and Ellie, “but I’ll be back bright and early.”

“The boys are waiting for you at home, eh?” Samson wiggles his eyebrows at me.

“It’s our first day off from all this madness. Kyra’s with Shay for a few hours,” I say and shrug lightly.

“Go be with the people who love you the most.”

I give Ellie a gentle squeeze of the hand, then drop a kiss on Samson’s cheek.

As I walk out of the hospital, I welcome the chill of early winter and the scent of pumpkin spice lattes lingering in the air. Redwood seems to have returned to its quaint, old self. Still shaken by the recent events, the town insists on being resilient, on clinging to righteousness.

That’s why I’m glad to still call it my home.

The clubhouse is open again. At this hour, as the sun sets over the reddish horizon, the place looks livelier than usual. The yellow tape is gone. The windows have been replaced. It’s as if a crooked arm of the DEA never touched it. We have weathered quite the storm. Inside, they’re already celebrating.

I go in and do my round of hellos and warm hugs, congratulating everyone, thanking them for their work, for their support, and for watching my back while Calvin was on the loose. I will never forget their kindness.

But once I’m done, I take a deep breath and make my way upstairs to the apartment.

I find Knox, Jagger, and Diesel sitting in the living room waiting for me.

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