Page 120 of Ruger's Rage

"As normal as it gets for an MC President and his ol' lady." I brush a strand of hair from her face. "But yeah, darlin'. Just like that."

"I'd like that," she says softly. "A future with you."

As I hold her, I think about justice—about Marco tumbling down those stairs, about Striker dying at his daughter's hand.

Even about Bailey waiting for the club's judgment, and Viper extending an olive branch where once there was only hatred.

The wheel turns. Old enemies die, new alliances form. The club adapts and survives.

And through it all, this woman in my arms has become my constant, my life, hell—even my future.

"Me too," I murmur into her hair. "More than anything."

EPILOGUE

Tildie

I never thought the middle of October in West Virginia would look like a painting—trees blazing with oranges and reds, the air crisp enough to need a light jacket but still warm enough in the sun to feel comfortable.

The club looks different now, almost all traces of the attack erased after weeks of hard work.

We have new security gates, repaired all the windows, and given it a fresh paint job.

Even the bullet holes in the main room have been patched and covered.

Only the memories remain, and those are fading too.

Today, we're celebrating Sadie Jo's thirteenth birthday.

The club's main area has been transformed with streamers and balloons, a "Happy Birthday" banner hanging crookedly over the bar.

Ellie spent all morning baking, the smell of chocolate cake still lingering in the air.

I adjust the pile of gifts on the table, making sure the one from Ruger and me is prominently displayed.

It's a laptop for school, something Coin mentioned she needed but couldn't afford yet.

"You're fussing," Ellie comments, appearing beside me with a plate of finger sandwiches. "Everything looks perfect."

"I just want it to be special for her," I admit. "After everything that happened..."

Ellie squeezes my shoulder. "Children are resilient. Look at her."

I follow her gaze to where Sadie Jo sits with her sister Wrenleigh and some other girls, giggling over something on a phone.

She seems carefree, the terror of that night in the cabin a distant memory.

"She hasn't had nightmares in weeks," Ellie adds. "Coin says she's doing great."

The party is in full swing now, brothers and their families crowding the space.

Porter arrived with Sarah, who's moving slowly but looking much better than the last time I saw her.

The wound has healed nicely, though she still winces when she laughs too hard.

I join her at one of the tables. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot," she says with a wry smile. "But I'll live. Doctor says another few weeks and I can go back to normal activities."

---