Page 28 of My End (Iron Fiends #10)

Tilly

I didn’t know how I was going to remember all of their names.

Eighteen adults. Two dogs. One kid.

I wasn’t sure my brain had the capacity for all of that. Honestly, I was just proud I’d remembered my own name after the week we’d had.

But they were all amazing. Loud, chaotic, protective, real.

I had thought Stretch and I would’ve had a quiet moment to sit down, just the two of us, and go over the who, what, when, and how of everything that had gone down with Boone and Gibbs.

But instead, I’d gotten the full Iron Fiends version of a storytime, with overlapping, cussing-filled, hilarious recounts of absolute chaos that somehow ended with them on top.

It was messy. It was a lot. But somehow, it made perfect sense.

The club had been minding their own business. Living. Loving. Building. Then out of nowhere, they were pulled into some ugly political maneuver and a ladder-climbing scheme where taking them down would’ve earned Boone and Gibbs the next rung. But that didn’t happen. Not even close.

The Iron Fiends had come out swinging, and they didn’t just survive it.

They stomped on it.

It was all over now.

We were all gathered in the common room with couches pulled together, boots kicked off, drinks poured, and laughter echoing.Rockywas curled up on a blanket in front of the TV with a dog on either side of him as he snoozed away.

I had to smother a yawn behind my hand.

It was just past ten, and I was so ready to crawl into bed and not open my eyes for a solid eight hours. My limbs felt heavy in the best way, and I was exhausted but safe.

I had set my backpack down by the door when we’d arrived, along with the canvas Murphy had dropped off. The rush of greetings and introductions had swept me away, and I hadn’t thought twice about it.

Until Sloanecalled, her voice full of mischief. “What is this?”

My stomach dropped.

She’d found the painting.

“Oh, nothing,” Stretch called from the couch next to me, his arm lazily draped around my shoulders like he hadn’t just broken through a goddamn gate and helped take down two of the most dangerous men I’d ever known.

Sloane rolled her eyes and flipped over the canvas.

She gasped, loudly. “Oh. My. God.”

A few heads turned.Dovecalled from the other side of the room, “What is it? A penis?”

The entire room erupted in laughter.

“No!” Sloane shouted, hoisting the canvas up like she’d just discovered buried treasure. “It’s, oh my god, you guys, this is insane.”

I covered my face with both hands. “Oh no.”

Sloane turned the painting toward the room, and the collectiveohhsandahhsmade me sink deeper into the couch cushions.

“Wait!”Danishrieked and scrambled to her feet. “That looks like a Tilly X.”

“That’s because it is,” Stretch said casually, not even looking up from where he was lazily twirling a bottle cap between his fingers.

Dani’s eyes bugged out. “You are Tilly X? Like… the Tilly X?”

I hesitated. “Uh… yeah.”

She let out a squeal that I swear shook the rafters. “Oh my god, oh my god, I have every one of your notebooks. Every single one. I’ve tried to bid on your paintings at auction, like, five times. But I never win. Never . You are amazing.”

I blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

It always caught me off guard when people actually liked my work. I painted because I had to. Because the colors in my head needed a place to go. That people wanted to hang it on their walls? That still felt unreal.

Saylor popped up from her seat and snatched the canvas from Sloane. She stared at it like she was studying the Mona Lisa.

“This is seriously amazing,” she said. “It screams Stretch.”

Dove barked out a laugh. “That’s probably because it is the man’s face, Saylor.”

Saylor tilted the canvas. “Okay, but still. The emotion. The brushstrokes. It’s alive.” Then she turned to me, face lit with a spark of something wicked and brilliant. “Could you do a painting of each of the guys?”

I blinked. “What?”

She set the canvas gently against the wall and faced me. “I’m serious. For the Tread premiere. Don would eat this up with a spoon. Ten bright, colorful portraits of the guys. Lined up. Lit properly. It’d be epic .”

I glanced around the room, doing a quick count.

One… two… three…

I’d need to paint nine more.

My eyes widened. “Uh… when’s the premiere? Nine months?”

Saylor winced. “Five weeks.”

My stomach flipped.

Five weeks?I could do it… maybe. Barely.

If I worked nonstop.

When I’d done that series for the notebook company, ten animals in three weeks, I’d barely eaten and slept only when my body gave up.

I stared at the painting still leaning against the wall. I’d worked on that one for a week, and it still didn’t feel done .

Stretch sat up a little straighter. “No. Absolutely not. She’s not going to do it.”

Saylor blinked. “What?”

“She doesn’t even have her supplies. She had to leave everything back at Boone’s,” he explained.

I grinned. “I didn’t leave everything .”

He frowned. “What did you even pack?”

I leaned forward, smug. “I managed to cram my backpack full of brushes, paints, and whatever else I could fit.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You didn’t pack any clothes?”

I shrugged. “My paints are more important than my clothes.”

That got a laugh out of the room.

Adaleepointed at me. “I would’ve done the same thing if Fade told me I could only bring one bag. Shove it full of cookbooks and pans.”

Saylor stepped closer, hope flickering in her eyes. “So… do you think you could do it? I mean, I’ll run it by Don, of course. And please, don’t feel pressured. I just think it would be cool as hell. And you’ve already got Stretch’s done.”

I turned to Stretch.

He looked back at me with his expression unreadable. “This is one hundred percent up to you, sweetheart.”

“You’re really gonna get a taste of what it’s like when I’m in the zone if I agree to this,” I warned him. “It’s messy. It’s paint on the floor and in my hair and barely any sleep. I get… weird.”

He held up his hands. “If you can do it without killing yourself, I’ll support it. But if you don’t want to, just say the word.”

Saylor nodded. “Seriously. Say no and I’ll shut up. Promise.”

I scanned the room.

Faces I was just starting to remember. Stretch’s family. His club. His life.

Could I do it?

Yes.

Was it going to be chaos?

Absolutely.

But maybe, for once, that was a kind of chaos I wanted to be part of.

I shrugged, already planning which face I’d paint first.

“Sure,” I said with a grin. “What the hell.”