Page 73 of Ravaged and Ruined
“I’ll handle Antonio. Sophia and Garett might be his kids but they double crossed him. He won’t let that slide.”
“I hope you’re right.” I press a reassuring kiss to her head. I hope I’m right too.
We sit in the wreckage together, just breathing. The adrenaline’s fading now, leaving only pain and the raw weight of what we’ve survived.
I turn to her slowly, my eyes meeting hers. “I meant what I said, Bambola. I love you and I won’t let anyone hurt you or our baby. Ever.”
“If we’re going to do this,” she murmurs, her eyes wet with tears. “Really do this, then you have a responsibility to take care of my heart.”
That hits me deep. “Bambola, I’ll take care of more than that.”
I lean forward, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“I swear to God, Aero, if you ever shut me out again.”
“I won’t.” And I mean it because for the first time in a long time, I want to live every second of this life with her. With our kid.
“Let’s go home.” I stand, slow and aching, and reach for her. Her fingers grip mine, firm despite the tremble. Together we climb over the splintered wreckage, stepping through the blood and ruin like survivors clawing their way out of hell.
The sun’s breaking over the horizon by the time the clubhouse comes into view. Blood’s still drying in my hair. My ribs are cracked. My body screams with every bump in the road, but I don’t stop. I’ve got Lacey on the back of my bike, her arms wrapped tight around me, head pressed between my shoulder blades and that’s the only thing that matters.
I feel her shift, her palm gently flattening against my side where I took that bullet. I cover her hand with mine and give it a squeeze as the gates of the RBMC compound creak open. A few of the guys are already back. Pike, Surge, Crank. They nod when I roll in.
I kill the engine just outside the door and help Lacey off. She’s stiff, sore, bruised, but when she turns to me, her face issomething else entirely, like she’s trying to figure out how the hell we’re still standing.
“Come inside,” I say, voice hoarse. “Let me clean you up. Let me take care of you.”
She looks at me for a long beat, like she’s still unsure if she can trust me with her heart.
“I’m in this, Lacey. All the way. I want to be the kind of man who doesn’t just fight monsters. I want to be the man that little kid looks up to. I want to be better. For them. For you.”
A tear slides down her cheek. She wipes it away before I can reach for it. Silence stretches between us again. Then she finally steps closer, resting her hand against my chest. “Let’s go inside.”
So we do. Things aren’t perfect yet, but it’s a start.
We survived hell. Now it’s time to build something real. Something strong. Something ours.
Epilogue
Aero
The scent of fresh paint and polished wood fills the air as I walk through the club’s new casino. Gold trim glints under the warm, ambient lighting, casting soft reflections across the cherry-stained floors and rich red upholstery. The crew is buzzing around, tweaking details and running last-minute checks. A few are shifting the leather barstools into place, while Hashtag stands over by the security station, fiddling with the cameras like they’re an extension of his own nervous system.
The Casino’s not open to the public yet. No high rollers. No outsiders. Just us. But it already feels like a win.
My boots thud against the new flooring as I move toward the bar stocked with top-shelf liquor and Harlots Ale. I run my fingers across the smooth wood grain of the counter. We built this with our own hands. We laid every inch of foundation, not just the physical kind. This isn’t just some side hustle, it’s our future. A way to pull in legit money and give the next generation of our club something stable. We’ll still take care of things theold way when we need to but this? This is proof we can evolve without losing what makes us who we are.
I glance around and spot her. Lacey’s curled up in a worn leather armchair in the corner, tucked just out of the fray, one hand cradling the curve of her belly. Her blonde waves fall around her shoulders, and even from here, I can see the smirk tugging at her lips. Eight months pregnant and glowing like firelight. The woman was made to be mine.
Dog lounges at her feet, ears perked, his big mutt head resting gently on her knee. He’s been her shadow since she came back, same as me. I barely let her out of my damn sight unless I have too.
“You’re staring,” she calls out.
“Can’t help it,” I say, cutting through the crowd to reach her. I lean down, brushing my lips over her forehead, then her belly. “You’re beautiful, Lace. Both of you.”
“Don’t go getting all soft on me now,” she teases, raising a brow.
I smile. The real kind that only she sees.
