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My dragon purred, relieved to have her close, safe, happy. Now, we just needed to get home, get somewhere private, so I could show her again what she meant to me.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Maybe it was only a text…

Nope. The buzzing continued. Harley smiled and tapped her fingers against the shape of my phone in my pocket. “Gonna get that?”

I sighed and released her waist reluctantly, then answered the phone.

“Ace, everything okay?” Striker asked.

“All good here. I’m with Harley.”

“Great,” Striker said, “because I’m with Dylan at the clubhouse, so you two can meet us here instead of at the alpha house.”

I blinked. “What? Why the hell are you at the clubhouse?”

“Because Dylan wanted to go. He hit me with the puppy eyes, Ace—what was I supposed to do?”

I rubbed my forehead. “Harley, our son is a menace.”

“I could’ve told you that. Did I hear Striker say clubhouse ?”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. There better not be any shady shit going on,” I snapped, then ended the call while Striker sputtered his denial.

“That kid,” Harley said. “He can smell a pushover from a mile away. There better not be any half-naked women wandering around that clubhouse.”

I winced. It was midday, so hopefully any late-night visitors had already left for the day. “Striker will handle it.”

“Not before they traumatize my baby,” Harley muttered.

She was only half-joking. I could only hope Striker had it handled, because the only thing scarier than an angry dragon alpha was an angry Harley Founty.

I handed her my helmet and climbed onto my bike.

Harley straddled the bike behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. We hadn’t ridden like this in a decade, but it felt like no time had passed at all.

The sensation of the wind on my face was nothing compared to the warmth of Harley’s body pressed to my back and the gentle pressure of her arms wrapped around me.

It was almost like flying with her astride my back.

Not quite as good—and it only made my dragon want to stretch his wings more—but still settled a protective instinct deep inside me.

There were a lot of bikes and cars parked outside the clubhouse. Way more than there usually were in the middle of the day, when a lot of the guys had work or were still passed out from partying the night before. Word must’ve gotten out that Dylan was at the clubhouse.

Harley climbed off the bike and pulled off the helmet.

Her auburn hair spilled out over her shoulders.

She dropped the helmet on the bike seat and rushed toward the clubhouse without even glancing at me.

All I could do was hurry after her, and I was right at her back when she opened the clubhouse door.

“Oh, jeez,” she said.

Inside, it looked like Dylan was the king of the castle, and the rest of the club members—all twenty of them—were his loyal followers.

Dylan was sitting on the bar, his feet dangling off it, with Striker on the barstool next to him.

Dylan was laughing, a bright sound that reminded me of Harley’s.

That kid looked like a carbon-copy of me, but parts of him were pure Harley. The blend always made my heart swell.

“Is this everyone?” Harley asked as she glanced around. “The whole clan?”

“Oh, not even close,” I said. “There are about a hundred-and-twenty shifters in the extended clan. This is just the club members within the clan.”

“Over a hundred,” Harley echoed. “And Dylan’s the heir of all of that?”

“If he wants to be,” I said.

“There he is!” Striker called. “See, I told you they were on their way.”

“Hi, Mom,” Dylan said with an excited wave.

Striker strode over and clapped me on the shoulder. “See? I told you it’d be fine.”

“You didn’t tell me shit,” I said with a grin. “You’re lucky there’s no shifter chasers around today.”

Harley crossed her arms over her chest. “ Damn lucky.”

Striker raised both hands in surrender. “I made sure they were gone before we came over!”

“That’s why you’re my best enforcer,” I said.

“Is that Harley?” one of the clan members said. “Harley Founty? This is Harley Founty’s kid?”

“Damn right it is!” Hawk said, laughing. “Harley, come here and meet the guys again!”

Harley acquiesced with a laugh and allowed herself to be pulled into the gaggle of shifters.

I watched her as she shook hands and re-learned names, moving from conversation to conversation with grace.

I made my way behind the bar and grabbed a beer from the cooler.

Harley caught my eye and mouthed ‘seltzer?’ mid-conversation.

She disentangled herself from the group, gesturing toward me and the drinks as I plopped down into the corner of the couch.

Harley tucked herself next to me. She pulled her feet beneath her body and leaned against my side. I cracked the seltzer for her and draped my arm around her shoulders, and we both watched as Dylan chattered away to the clan members surrounding him.

“He really fits right in, doesn’t he?” Harley murmured.

I squeezed her closer. “Never doubted he would.”

Striker leaned closer to Dylan, and then burst into exuberant laughter. “The call signs? Well, they’re earned.”

Dylan peered at Hawk curiously. “How do you get a call sign like Hawk?”

Hawk rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, we don’t have to talk about that?—”

“During his first shift,” Striker said, “he tried to catch a squirrel, but misjudged the dive, hit the ground, and bounced like a volleyball all the way into the lake. Since he’s such a good hunter, we started calling him Hawk.”

“Oh my god,” Hawk said. “Should we talk about how yours comes from the Lakeview bowling alley?”

“No, no, there’s no need for that,” Striker said. “We’d better brainstorm potential call signs for Dylan. You don’t get one until you shift, kid, but that doesn’t mean we can’t test drive them.”

“I think ‘Joker’,” Hawk said, “since he’s a mini-Ace.”

“No way,” Dylan said. “I want a cool name. Like Bullet. Or Trebuchet.”

“You’d fit right in with Tank, here,” Striker said.

The reason for Tank’s call-sign was obvious: he was built like one, taller than me and all muscle, but he was as sweet as a kitten.

As long as you didn’t piss him off. Tank had a son, too, I remembered suddenly.

And he was around Dylan’s age. The thought of Dylan leading the next generation of shifters in the clan made my dragon rumble with pride.

“Trebuchet?” Tank asked. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I got this cool new game…”

Harley laughed as Dylan began to recount the plot of his latest video game to twenty full-grown dragon shifters. She took a sip of her seltzer and wiggled a little closer to me.

After the chaos of the morning, my dragon was finally settled. Warmth and pride spread through me as I watched my son with my clan members—the members that I hoped, one day, he might lead.

A missing piece of my life—of my heart —had finally slotted into place.

I’d spent so long trying to live without Harley. Trying to build a life where I was a good alpha, a strong leader. But there was an emptiness at the center of it all. Having Dylan laughing with my clan and Harley tucked into my side felt right.

They belonged here, in Lakeview, with me.

I couldn’t let them go back to Atlanta. I knew it with a surety that spread through my body like a slow-burning flame. Summers wouldn’t be enough. I couldn’t lead the clan through the year knowing Harley and Dylan were in Atlanta without me.

I had until the end of the summer to convince her to stay.