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EPILOGUE ONE

ATOM

“ Y ou did what?” The coffee mug my father just threw shatters on the ground, the pieces scattering over the wide-planked floors of the formal living room of the ranch.

I don’t believe it either, and I’m eager for my grandfather to repeat his words. The plan was to get my father to the main house under the guise of a ranch discussion, and then the rest of the club would surround us so he couldn’t escape.

But this is a twist I didn’t see coming.

“You heard me,” Grandpa says. And given he’s sitting next to Oscar James, the family lawyer, I have to believe he knows what he’s doing. “For the first time in Addams history, the whole ranch will not directly pass to the son. I’ve altered the will, and I’m leaving it all to Hudson.”

My father’s face is so red, it looks like he’s about to have a convulsion.

“You can’t do this,” Dad says. “There’s precedent. There’s birthright. There’s?—”

“How things have always been done means little if it’s not documented legally that way,” Oscar says. “I’ve been back through the family wills and the property documents filed as the ranch has changed hands. The legally binding documents don’t say who should inherit the ranch. In fact, it doesn’t even say what gender the child must be, and those laws are evolving anyway.”

I look to my grandpa. “Are you sure about this?”

He smiles in my direction. “As sure as the sun is gonna rise tomorrow.”

“I’ve worked for you my entire life,” Dad shouts.

“And I’ve paid you well,” Grandpa says.

“Paid me? Paid. Me? I’m going to challenge this. You’re not of sound mind,” my father spits.

“Wait a fucking minute,” I say, coming to my feet. “He’s absolutely of sound mind.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re getting the fucking ranch.”

I always assumed I’d get all of it one day, but I’d rather have it before my dad dies, which might be sooner than he thinks.

My grandfather stands and puts a hand on my shoulder. It’s enough to cool my heels.

“He’s of sound mind,” Oscar says. “He knew this would be your response, so he got three testimonies from three different specialists as to his state of mind at the time of signing. Good luck finding a lawyer who will take the case on that alone.”

Grandpa turns to face my father. “We know you’ve been doing more than exploratory conversations about this ranch. I did some digging in the last twenty-four hours and found out you’ve had plans drawn up for huge developments, touting it as the perfect commute into Denver for those who want to live out of the city. You started to quietly apply for the right permits to begin, wanting to be ready to go the day I die. And I know your major backer, Rurik Zakharov, is lined up with legal documents ready to sign because he wants a better trade route.”

“How could you do that?” I ask my father, who is standing defiantly in the middle of the living room.

“Because we’re sitting on all this money, tied up in stables and animals and land that might have oil beneath it. We could have much better lives than this old man will ever give us. And I don’t want to be so fucking old I can’t enjoy it.”

Grandpa faces him with the steely backbone of an Iron Outlaw. “Because you never understood you had to earn it. You hate the work, always have. You resent the land, you dislike your house because it’s too small, and you expect Hudson to take on your responsibilities.” Grandpa turns to me. “And I’m giving the land to you now.”

“What?” I ask, almost choking on the beer I just took a sip of.

“Oscar helped me write a handover plan. It includes me staying in the main house until I die, but you’ve always said you didn’t really want to live here anyway. And a salary as a percent of profits from the ranch.”

“You’re doing what ?” Dad asks.

Oscar hands both me and Dad a manilla envelope. “Everything is explained in those letters. Hudson, it’s up to you if you choose to keep your father employed on the ranch.”

My father looks like he’s about to go apoplectic, with bulging eyes and tight lips, and I can see why. The throaty roar of motorcycles gets louder as they approach the house.

Dad eyes the window nervously as he wipes the sweat from his brow.

“There’s an extra detail in the will,” Oscar says. “If he ever tries to sue you for access, there is a pot of invested money to pay for any legal bills you might incur.”

“And there’s a trust that a percent of profits must be paid into each year that you can use to pay out to your sisters too.”

It all feels like such a…relief. I like that they’ll get some of the money too. It makes sense. And saved me from having to come up with the solution when the land becomes mine.

“That will be all,” Grandpa says to Oscar, and he leaves via the rear door.

My grandpa shifts the blanket on the sofa and pulls out his cut from beneath it. I haven’t seen him wear it in a while.

“Thank you,” I say to him as I help him put it on. “I’m honored you trust me enough.”

“I know the ranch will be in safe hands. Now, would you do me the favor of helping me take your father to meet the rest of his punishment?”

Dad looks up. “The rest?”

“The rest,” Grandpa says. “You didn’t think you could fuck with the club’s safety and side with an enemy without punishment, did you?”

“No. Fuck, no. Don’t do this,” my father yells.

Grandpa brushes a hand down the front of his cut, as if admiring it. “You have to stand for something, son. Now, Hudson, please?”

I grab my own father by the back of the shirt and shove him toward the door. In the last twelve hours, since we decided what needed to happen, I’ve had to grapple with what my father has done. There’s shame, but there’s a small piece of me that hopes Butcher doesn’t kill him. As much as I detest the man, he’s still my father.

And a dead father is as finite as it gets.

When Grandpa opens the door, Butcher and the club stand in an arc, facing us.

“Wheeler,” Butcher says. “You let your own greed get in the way of the club.”

My dad shakes his head. “I didn’t know he wanted to ruin the club. He was the one willing to pay the most for the land. I didn’t rationalize it more than that. It was a business thing.”

“Take off your shirt,” Wraith says.

“No, don’t do this. I’ll make it right. I’ll figure it out. I’ll get intel. Find out where Rurik Zakharov is. I’ll?—”

“Take off your shirt,” Butcher repeats.

Every person who becomes an Outlaw is expected to get club ink. It’s a rite of passage. But fuck with the club, and the penalty is the same.

“Choose, Dad,” I say. “Do you want your ink cut off or burned off?”

Dad drops to his knees, his head falling forward. “Cut,” he says quietly, the fight gone out of him.

Wraith drags my dad to his feet. “We’re gonna do this up behind the clubhouse.”

Butcher points to me and Grandpa. “You two need to stay here. We’ll make sure he’s packed up and off your land by lunch.”

I let out a slow breath. “The vote was to let him live.”

Butcher nods. “Purely out of respect for the two of you.”

“Thank you,” Grandpa says.

And we stand on the porch and watch them leave until there’s no sign they were here beyond the swirls of dust on the trail.

“Shit,” I say, feeling so dizzy that the world tilts after reading the documents he’s handed me, an hour later. “When you said you’d take care of me, Gramps, you weren’t kidding.”

In the past hour, we’ve reconciled our feelings about my father. The disappointment, the embarrassment, the grief. It will feel raw and tender for a while to come.

“We’re only the custodians of the land, Hudson. It’s never truly ours. I steward it, your father should have stewarded it, and now you have to.”

“I’ve still got so much to learn to run the whole thing.”

Grandpa squeezes my shoulder. “I’m not dead yet. There’s, hopefully, still lots of time to learn. Just promise me this: You’ll never take more out of the land than it can give. You’ll let fields run fallow, you won’t overbreed the cattle, and you won’t allow anyone to pour swaths of concrete into it or desecrate it to get the oil out.”

“I promise,” I say.

“Good. And one more thing.”

He goes to the dresser and pulls out a square box. When he offers it to me, I open it. “It’s your great-grandma’s engagement ring, a pale pink topaz because she was born in November. Those other longer stones are diamonds. Had it cleaned and valued. It’s not hugely expensive, but your great-grandma was a true rancher. Rode horses as good as any man and had an eye for raising strong bulls.”

I tilt it from left to right. It’s set on a simple white-gold band, and the pink stone is unique, the diamonds sparkle.

I look up at my grandpa, who says, “I know you probably have something else in mind for Ember. Something bigger, flashier. So, I don’t expect you to propose to her with it, but maybe if she wore it once in a while, that’d be nice.”

I close the box and hug my grandpa. “It’s beautiful. And I know she’ll love it.”

He pats my back firmly. “Now, as Marcus Aurelius once said, the best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury. Your father is gone, for now. So, it’s time to make this a better day. Go see your woman, and don’t let your father cast a longer shadow.”

The whole ride back to the house, I’m shaking. Ember isn’t working today, so I know she’s going to be home when I get there. I jump off the bike and storm the porch steps before practically kicking the front door down.

I keep thinking about what I said that night by the river.

Then we get on with the rest of our lives because as long as we’ve got each other, that’s all we need.

If we both believe that, why not ask her and make it formal?

Except, even with that caveat, I’m still nervous she’s gonna say no.

Even though she already said yes to being my old lady.

“Em,” I shout when I don’t see her.

Then, I notice the back door is open, and I realize she must be on the bench swing she had me rig over the tree in the fenced-off yard.

She’s sitting, barefoot, on it, book in hand. The breeze lifts her hair softly, and she’s nibbling on the side of her finger as all her rings sparkle in the sunlight.

“How’s the lion smut?” I ask, walking up behind the swing set

“For your information, we’re on a new series.”

“Yeah? What’s this one about?”

“Wolf shifters.”

“What?”

“You know. Like, packs with an alpha wolf. Kind of like a motorcycle club, where they all have roles and rules and things.”

I sit down next to her, and the branch groans so ominously that we both look up to see if it’s at risk of cracking.

“If you break my swing, I’ll be mad,” she says.

I chuckle. “I’m still stuck on you comparing the club to werewolves.”

“They’re wolf shifters, not werewolves. They—you know what, never mind. How come you’re home?” She puts her book down, and as I glance at her fingers, I see the colorful rings and stones sparkle.

“Marry me, Em,” I say.

Her jaw drops, and then she grins. “For real?”

“Yeah. For real.” I pull the box out of my pocket and offer it to her. “Don’t know if it will fit, but it was my great-grandmother’s. And I’d be real fucking honored if you would wear it and let everyone know that we love each other so much, we can’t wait to get on with the rest of our lives together. I want to spend forever with you, starting right now.”

I take the ring from the box and hold it up for her.

“Yes. Oh my God, yes. And it’s so beautiful.”

I slide it onto her finger, and it’s a little loose, but it looks perfect sitting there.

Then, I kiss her until the branch starts to make that same creaking sound.

“Jesus,” I say, standing and tugging Ember to her feet. “Let’s go inside and do this properly.”

Ember grins as I cup her cheeks. “Does that include working on those babies?”

And she’s up over my shoulder and on her way into the house before she can say another word.