Page 239 of At the Edge of Surrender

I pushed to standing. “Okay, I’m going to get the rest of these things put away. I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

“’Kay,” she said, not really paying me any attention.

I stepped out into the hall, and I glanced down at the rest of the clothes I had in the basket.

Butterflies lifted in my belly. All of this still felt so new. Kane insisting that I make his room mine.

A nod to our permanence.

I hadn’t really started keeping my things in there yet. Just some toiletries and clean pajamas and underwear in an empty drawer that he’d cleared out for me.

I glanced between the open door to what had been my bedroom and the double doors at the end of the opposite hall. A grin tugged at my mouth as I made the decision, and I walked into his room and directly into the massive walk-in closet that was on the opposite side of the bathroom.

I flicked on the light.

It was long and narrow, and it hooked around at the end. Rows of clothes hung from each side, and there were built-in shelves and drawers in different sections.

I moved down to a spot where there were fewer items hanging from the rod, and I began to hang up a few of my shirts that I’d just washed.

Contentment danced on my lips.

It smelled like him in here.

Cedar and clove. That masculine scent that never failed to intoxicate me.

I ran my fingers over his things as I moved down the closet, no stopping my smile as I experienced him this way.

This rough, intimidating man who kept his clothes perfectly arranged and organized.

There were a ton of different button-up shirts that he normally wore into the club. How much I loved how sexy they looked when he rolled the sleeves up his forearms.

His jeans were hanging, too.

I’d always thought him a complete paradox.

I moved deeper into the closet, and I slowed when I saw a lower shelf that had a bunch of old framed pictures sitting on it.

It looked like a tribute. Maybe a shrine.

Heavy emotion tugged at my chest, and I reached out and ran my fingertips over the glass of a frame, staring at the image of a beautiful woman wearing a floral dress and the little boy who was tucked close to her side, his arms around her waist as he squeezed her hard and grinned at the camera.

Her eyes—they were the same color as Kane’s and Maci’s. That striking emerald tempered by flecks of gold.

Though hers were weighted with a sadness that was unmistakable.

Pain speared me. Looking at this woman who Kane had adored. Someone who I had no question would have wanted her life to be different but had somehow remained trapped. This woman had suffered the types of brutalities that Kane and his family gave all of themselves to try to protect them from.

It was still hard to process it. What they really did. On some level, I recognized it was wrong, but there was a much larger part of myself that couldn’t imagine him doing anything else.

The way he stood for others in a way he hadn’t been able to for his mother, and I’d gleaned enough from the things Kane had shared, the things that Raven and Charleigh had, too, to understand that all the guys had gone through similar situations in one way or another.

It was what had brought them together in the first place, was what they’d known, and now they did their best to end it for as many women and children as they could.

How could I think of it as anything less than honorable?

My gaze traveled, taking in the different pictures of Kane and his mom. He grew older in each.

A soft smile tugged when I saw him with the rest of his crew. All of them so young. Maybe seventeen or eighteen. A little black-haired Raven was smack in the middle of them.

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