Page 32 of My End (Iron Fiends #10)

Tilly

I never imagined I’d walk a black carpet in front of a movie theater, but here I was, wearing a flowy, paint-splattered chiffon dress in deep shades of violet and teal that fell just below my knees, my hair pinned loosely with curls tumbling down, and a man by my side who looked at me like I held every star in the sky.

Stretch’s hand was warm on my lower back as we stepped through the chaos of camera flashes and shouted names.

Well… their names. The photographers didn’t know who I was yet, but they were shouting for the Iron Fiends.

For Yarder, Aero, Dice, Fade, Compass, Throttle, Smoke, Cue Ball, Pirate, and of course, Stretch.

The guys showed up in what could only be described as formal biker attire: jeans, white T-shirts, and their cuts polished to perfection.

Not a wrinkle in sight. They looked like the badass royalty of the MC world.

The girls, though? They showed up in style.

From Saylor’s sleek black dress with silver studs to Lainey’s flirty skirt and wedge combo, the ol’ ladies brought just enough glam to remind everyone that behind every powerful man was a woman who could burn the world down for him.

And then there were the paintings.

Ten easels lined the entryway to the theater, five on each side, forming a corridor of color and grit and pride.

Each portrait stood tall beneath its own spotlight, catching the gaze of every single person who stepped foot near the doors.

I’d painted them larger than life, because that’s how I saw the men in this club. That’s how I saw Stretch.

I loved all of the paintings, but of course. I had my favorite.

Stretch’s… that one made me stop every time.

He stood in profile, his face turned just slightly toward the viewer, like he’d been caught mid-thought. His hair was tousled, his jaw tense, but his eyes… his eyes were looking right at me. Soft, guarded, and sure. Like he saw me. Like he’d never stop seeing me.

“Damn,” a woman whispered behind me. “Who painted these?”

“Girl, I don’t know, but that one?” Her friend pointed to Stretch’s portrait. “I’d hang that over my bed and stare at it all day.”

I flushed and smiled to myself.

“You hear that?” Stretch’s voice rumbled next to me. “You’re starting trouble, sweetheart.”

“Just showing the world what I see,” I murmured and turned into him.

He dipped his head to press a kiss just below my ear. “The world’s lucky you’re finally letting them see.”

We hadn’t even made it to the door when Sloane and Dove came flying toward me.

“You have to meet Alice,” Sloane gushed. “She just got here.”

“She’s going to freak when she sees the portraits,” Dove added. “I bet she’s going to ask you to do portraits of her cows.”

I blinked. “Cows?”

Sloane snorted and nodded toward the carpet. “See for yourself.”

Sure enough, coming up the black carpet was a woman with vibrant purple hair, confident strides, and a tank top that read Just One More Cow across the front. Her black cardigan fluttered behind her like a cape. But it was the man next to her that made my jaw go slack.

Towering, broad-shouldered, tatted arms, long dark beard, and an expression like he had zero time for anyone’s bullshit. Even on a black carpet, he looked like he could tear down a building just by leaning into it.

“I thought I was going to hate this,” the woman, Alice, said as they reached us, “but it’s actually kind of fun. Almost like we’re famous for a night.”

Wrecker grunted, “I’m good with our life back at home.”

Alice rolled her eyes. “Cameras in your face are about to be your reality.”

“The Fallen Lords are going to be the next MC featured on Tread ,” Sloane explained, excitement sparking in her voice.

“Oh,” I said, “that sounds great, though I’ll admit I’m glad I missed the taping for the Iron Fiends. I just get to see how crazy their lives were.”

Alice turned her attention to me, and her eyes narrowed. “You must be the lucky girl who wrangled Stitches.”

“Stretch,” Wrecker corrected without missing a beat.

Alice laughed. “Ope, that’s what I meant. Hard enough keeping track of everyone back home, let alone a whole new MC.”

She turned and pointed to three guys who were posing for pictures.

“That’s Kingston, our oldest, and then Arlo and Ender. They belong to Nikki and Raven. We’re all hoping the cameras focus on the kids and leave us old people alone.”

“Fucking better,” Wrecker muttered.

Dove snorted. “You guys sound exactly like us when they were filming.”

Sloane leaned in. “Of course, we were going through hell with some assholes trying to take down the club during filming, so we had to distract the cameras.”

Dove nodded. “You’ll have to watch the show to see what we mean.”

Alice grinned. “Oh, honey, I’ve already got my DVR set.” Her gaze landed on the paintings. “Are those…?” Her voice trailed off as she stepped closer. “Are those paintings of all the guys?”

“They are,” I said softly.

She gasped. “These are Tilly X paintings! You guys went all out if you got her to commission portraits!”

Sloane bumped me with her shoulder. “It helped that Tilly managed to fall in love with Stretch.”

“What?!” Alice squeaked and spun toward me. “You’re Tilly X?! I have every single one of your notebooks.”

I laughed and blushed. “That’s sweet.”

She leaned in. “But I have to say… I was really disappointed you never did one with a cow.”

Sloane and Dove burst out laughing.

“I heard you have a love for cows,” I teased.

Alice nodded solemnly. “They are my children. Well… my other children. They talk back less than my actual kids.” Her eyes lit up. “You know what your next notebook theme could be?”

“Oh god,” Wrecker groaned.

“My babies!” she declared dramatically. She whipped out her phone. “I know they’re photogenic. I bet they’d look gorgeous on canvas.”

Sloane and Dove doubled over in laughter. They called this.

“You are not showing her the forty-seven pictures of your cows right now,” Wrecker muttered and dragged her gently toward the theater.

“I’ll text you!” Alice called over her shoulder. “I promise they’re good angles!”

I was still grinning when Stretch slid up beside me and wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Everyone loves the paintings, sweetheart.”

“They turned out great,” I admitted. “Even Saylor said they’re thinking of doing this for every season.”

“Please tell me you get a little break before they make you start the next ones.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Alice said they haven’t even started filming yet.”

He leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “You ready to see how crazy life was for the Iron Fiends?”

I looked toward the theater doors. “Honestly? Yeah. I know the stories. I’ve heard the jokes and the nightmares, but it’s going to be fun seeing it all on screen.”

We turned back toward the paintings. People were still milling around, pointing, taking selfies with their favorites. But my eyes went right to Stretch’s again. That look in his painted eyes? That look hadn’t faded.

That look was my reality now.

I slipped my hand into his. “If someone had told me Boone’s insanity would lead me here…”

“I would’ve called them full of shit,” Stretch finished.

“Exactly.”

We stood there for a long moment, just breathing it in.

As much as Boone had messed up everything, ripped apart lives, put people in danger, and made me question everything, I couldn’t deny that his chaos had led me here.

To this .

To Stretch .

To our end .

And damn, what a beautiful beginning it turned out to be.