Page 45 of Vows & Violence

I lean into his shoulder, let his warmth ground me. His fingers brush my thigh. Not possessive. Just present. The weight of him next to me feels more real than sleep ever does.

We’re not done. Not by a long shot. The Hollow Sons are still out there, carving spirals into wood and bone. Vale’s ghost is quieter, but something else hums in the cracks. Watching. Waiting. Maybe it never left.

Ghost stands first. Offers me his hand like it’s instinct. I take it, and together we walk into the room I designated as ours.

Ghost lies on the mattress, and I follow suit. He holds me with one arm tucked under my neck, the other resting over my ribs like he knows where the ache still lives. His breath warms the back of my neck. Slow, steady, present.

“Have you ever thought about what comes after this?” I whisper.

Ghost’s lips brush my shoulder. “After what?”

“This,” I say. “The fire. The violence. The spirals. The ghosts.”

His voice hums low against my skin. “Yeah. All the time.”

I turn, and his hand finds my jaw like he already knew I would. I study the scar near his temple. The softness in his eyesthat he tries to hide. The way he looks at me like I’m not broken, just burning on purpose.

“What do you see?” I ask.

He exhales, presses his forehead to mine. “Arizona. A sunrise. Maybe a house with windows that don’t need bars. You and me, still breathing. Still us.”

My throat tightens. “That sounds dangerous.”

He smiles. “So are we.”

Outside, the bikes rest like sleeping wolves. Viper and the others are prepping for Arizona, packing gear and mapping roads. Wendigo called in a favor, and we never leave one of ours behind. But right now, for this second, the world isn’t trying to kill us.

Ghost traces a fingertip down the inside of my wrist, slow and reverent. “When this run’s over… I want more.”

“More?” I ask.

“You. Me. Space that doesn’t smell like blood. A real roof. Maybe even a dog.”

I laugh softly. “You want to play house with an MC enforcer and a half-haunted ex-detective?”

“I want to play real,” he says. “Whatever that looks like.”

Silence settles between us again, but it’s the good kind. The kind that lets you breathe.

I lean in and kiss him slowly, no urgency, no fear, just the weight of everything we survived. When I pull back, my voice is steadier than it’s been in months.

“Okay,” I say. “After Arizona… we find our after.”

Ghost tucks my hand against his chest, over the place where his heart still beats steadily, and mine finally matches.

“Then it’s a plan,” he whispers.

And for once, it feels like the world might actually let us keep it. Let us choose more than vows and violence.