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CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

I WAS LEANED back against my bike, engine still ticking from the ride, heat soaking through the metal into my spine. One boot planted, the other resting on the peg like I didn’t know if I was staying or running.

Felt like I’d been stuck in that space for years.

Then the door opened.

Devil stepped out, slow and deliberate, like nothing inside had rattled him. But I knew better. That woman could rip skin off with her words and smile like she did you a favor. He’d faced her, face to face, and come out clean.

Didn’t speak right away. Just came toward me with something gripped in his hand. I saw it before he got close. Folded papers. Edges creased sharp like they’d been handled too many times.

He held them out, eyes unreadable, like always. No judgment in them. No comfort either. Just the kind of look you gave a man when the war was over but the wreckage still burned.

“It’s done,” he said.

I took them, fingers brushing his for half a second before I closed mine around the paper.

It finally felt final.

“Did she fight?” I asked, my voice sandpaper. Raw from a scream buried so deep it might never claw its way out.

Devil huffed something between a sigh and a bitter laugh. “Course she did. Twisted the story ‘til even the devil himself would’ve second guessed the truth. Tried to pull the same shit on me she’s always pulled on you.”

I didn’t look at him. Just stared down at the paper. My name beside hers. That signature inked like blood.

I chuckled. “Didn’t work?”

“Fuck no,” he said. “I don’t wear the chains you did. She found that out the hard way.”

I nodded, jaw clenched until it ached. A part of me still expected the knife in the back. Still half heard her voice in my head, dripping poison wrapped in sugar.

“I loved her once,” I muttered, voice barely there. “Or maybe I just didn’t know what love really was.”

“You didn’t know better,” Devil replied. “You were young and broken, and she saw that. Wrapped herself around your wounds like a damn vine. Made you think the choke was comfort.”

His words dug deep. Truth always cuts deeper than lies.

He stepped in, clapped a hand on my shoulder. Steady. Solid. “But you cut that scab off,” he said. “She can go fuck with someone else.”

I let out a breath that scraped on the way out. “I gotta go.”

He lifted a brow. “To her?”

I looked up at the house, that place that smelled like rot and false promises. Then toward the road.

“She’s waitin’ on me.” My voice came out harder than I meant. “And I ain’t lettin’ her wait another damn second.”

Devil gave a slow nod. “Then go. And Mystic—”

I paused, one leg over the bike, engine rumbling under me like it was just as ready to be free.

“She ain’t your past,” he said, jerking his chin toward the house. “That was your cage.”

I didn’t reply.

Didn’t need to.

I twisted the throttle and felt the beast roar to life. Slid the papers into my cut, where the past belonged, close enough to remember, far enough not to reach me.

And then I was gone.

Tires chewing asphalt. Wind screaming in my ears. Ghosts fading in the mirror. Zeynep was waiting, and for the first time in years, I wasn’t riding to outrun the dark. I was riding toward the light.

Toward her.

My sunrise.

***

THE RIDE BACK was a blur, just the road, the roar, and the ghost of her name in my head.

I didn’t stop. Didn’t think. Didn’t let the wind do what it usually did for me.

This time, it didn’t cleanse.

It cleared a path.

By the time I rolled up to the gates, the sun was starting to dip low, casting long shadows across the yard. The clubhouse stood quiet, the bikes out front gleaming like they were lined up for war. A couple of brothers lingered by the steps—Chain, Thunder, and Rune—all paused mid-convo when they saw me.

I killed the engine.

Chain stepped forward, eyeing me with that silent question in his stare.

“It’s done,” I said, voice flat. Final.

He didn’t ask for details. None of them did. Just gave me a short nod like that was all that needed saying.

I didn’t stop to talk. Didn’t drink. Didn’t breathe until I was inside the clubhouse and climbing the stairs two at a time. I needed to see her. Needed to see her eyes, not the ones that used to haunt me when I knew I didn’t deserve. I needed the sound of her voice more than the sound of any engine.

My door was half-cracked.

I pushed it open slow.

She was by the window, sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to me. Soft light spilled in, painting her hair gold. She was wearing one of Brenda’s old flannels, sleeves rolled up, collar tugged around her neck like a scarf.

She didn’t look at me, but she knew I was there. I stepped in and shut the door behind me.

Quiet.

She still hadn’t spoken like she was afraid of what the conversation would hold.

“Zeynep.”

She turned at the sound of her name. Her eyes locked on mine. No fear. No question. Just something I now felt I deserved—trust.

I crossed the room.

Didn’t sit.

Didn’t touch her.

I knelt in front of her, reaching into my cut. Pulled out the folded papers and held them up.

“I’m free,” I said. “Took too long. Cost too much. But I’m done with her.”

Her eyes dropped to the papers. She didn’t reach for them. I didn’t expect her to.

“I should’ve told you sooner. Should’ve told you everything. But I didn’t know how, and maybe a part of me didn’t believe I ever could.” I looked down. “When I was with her, I was weak. Didn’t know it. Thought I was doin’ the right thing. Thought I owed her for standin’ by me when I came back from the Marines half a man.” I raised my head again. “But that wasn’t loyalty and when I tried to end our marriage, she basically blackmailed me, and I let her.”

Zeynep’s lips parted slightly like she wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

She didn’t have to.

I reached up—slow—and set the papers down on the edge of the bed beside her. “Those chains? Gone. Only ones I want now are the ones you put on me.”

Her brows pulled together, and for a second, I thought maybe I said too much. Too soon. But then her hand reached out, soft, hesitant, and she touched my face. Fingers brushed the scars like they were nothing. Like I was just… me.

I leaned into her touch. Closed my eyes. Let the pain slip out in a breath I hadn’t realized I was still holding. “I rode away from my past today,” I whispered. “And for the first time in a long goddamn time… I rode home.”

She nodded, just once. Then leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

Soft.

Silent.

But it said everything.

And I knew, I was hers now.

Fully.

Finally.

She was mine now, and I’d bury anyone who tried to take that away.