Page 170 of Unhinged
I watch him go, heart squeezing tight. “Watch him,” I mumble.
Marcus glances back, eyes warm. “With my life.”
SIX MONTHS LATER
BRYDGETT
The first one had carpet in the bathroom. The second didn’t have a backyard, just a sad patch of weeds and a broken swing. The third house smelled like lemon cleaner and staged lies.
But this one?
This one was it.
Five bedrooms. Huge backyard. A damn guest house in the back, too. Close enough to the clubhouse that we can still roll out when needed, but far enough that Judge won’t hear things he shouldn’t. It’s got enough space for Bettie when she wants to visit, or for Dillon to crash when she inevitably burns a bridge and swears she’s running away again. Hell, maybe even Ike and Jackie could visit for longer stretches.
And yeah… enough rooms for us. And Judge. And the other three kids the guys keep trying to talk me into.
They think I don't know what they’re doing, talking about names, making eyes at me whenever I hold a baby, pretending not to care that I keep checking my calendar like I'm not plotting this whole thing down to the second.
I did love being pregnant. There’s just the matter of pushing out three more kids from my lady garden. Doesn’t exactly sound like a walk in the park. But after seeing them with Judge… Arrow helping him with his math, Acid teaching him how to ride that dirt bike they totally didn’t ask me permission to buy, and Gears walking him to school every morning like a damn watchdog… yeah, they won’t have to twist my arm too hard.
One for each alpha. That’s the plan.
Which means, when we’re ready, we’ll need a DNA test system in place. Only the ones who haven’t made a baby get to finish inside me. I’m nothing if not organized.
The realtor hands over the keys, beaming like she built the house herself. I thank her, still grinning, then frown when I realize I haven’t seen Judge in a bit.
“Judge?” I call out, scanning the yard. “Where are you?”
He comes running around the corner, face lit up like he already owns the place.
“Just checking out the yard,” he says. “I think we could get a pool. And a trampoline.”
I laugh. “We’ll talk about it.”
Then he grins even wider. “You should probably turn around now, Mom.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“Just do it,” he says, bouncing on his toes.
I turn.
And there they are.
Gears, Arrow, and Acid, on one knee, all three of them like the damn Avengers of bad decisions. Gears is holding a ring box, and I immediately tear up. He speaks first.
“You’re ours. You’ve always been ours. You’re smart, savage, dangerous, and absolutely the love of our lives.”
Arrow continues, “You make us better. Even when you’re threatening to stab us.”
Acid smirks. “Especially when you’re threatening to stab us.”
Then Gears pops the box open and my breath leaves my body.
The ring isn’t dainty or sweet. It’s black metal, kind of matte and rough-looking, twisted like barbed wire into a circle. Right in the middle is a blood-red stone, not shiny or perfect. It looks like dried blood, but pretty. Somehow.
I catch something carved on the inside of the band, just a flash of it. I’ll check later, but knowing them, it probably says something likeOurs. Always. No backsies.
