Page 108 of Scornful

"We're still here," Runes continues. "Still fighting. Still family. The Patriot thought he could destroy us by targeting what we love most. Instead, he's shown us exactly how strong we are together."

Murmurs of agreement ripple through the room.

"So today, we give thanks. Not just for food and shelter, but for each other. For the bonds that make us Raiders. For the love that makes us family." He raises his glass. "To those we've lost and those still with us. To endings and new beginnings. To family."

"To family!" we echo, clinking glasses.

The tradition continues—each person sharing their gratitude.

Some are simple: thankful for good health, for the meal, for another day above ground.

Others run deeper. Rio thanks Dasha for helping with his girls, and I catch her dabbing at tears.

Kraken thanks the club for rallying around Bjorn.

Magnolia thanks Ingrid for loving her son through his darkest moments.

When my turn comes, I stand slowly.

"I'm thankful for acceptance," I begin, finding Geirolf's eyes. "For a love that sees all of me and doesn't flinch. For a family that protects fiercely, even when it's overprotective." That getschuckles from Dad and my brothers. "For the strength to face whatever comes next, and for hope that this war will end soon, letting us build the future we're fighting for."

Geirolf's hand finds mine under the table, squeezing tight. "I’m thankful for second chances. For a woman who makes me want to be better. For brothers who have my back, and to our future—the club’s, and mine with Astrid."

The meal passes by over time—conversations flow across tables, kids sneak extra rolls, someone starts the annual debate about stuffing versus dressing.

I help serve, making sure everyone's plates stay full, enjoying the domesticality of it all.

Between courses, Geirolf pulls me aside into the hallway. "Need to tell you something."

My pulse quickens. "You found him."

"His compound. Forty miles north, old farm property. Been surveilling it for two days." His eyes are intense. "After the holiday, we move. This is going to end, princess, and so fuckin’ soon."

I should feel relief, but fear twists my gut. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I always am." He backs me against the wall, caging me with his arms. "When this is over, I want to start our life properly. No more lockdowns. No more looking over our shoulders."

"What kind of life?" I ask, though I think I know.

"House. Kids. Normal shit." His voice roughens. "Want to put babies in you, Astrid. Want to watch you grow round with my child."

Heat floods through me at his words, at the need in his eyes. "I want that too," I whisper. "All of it."

He kisses me then, deep and claiming, until someone clears their throat nearby.

We break apart to find Emil smirking at us. "Mom wants to know if you two can keep it in your pants long enough for pie," he says.

I throw a wadded napkin at his head, but I'm laughing.

This is what I'm thankful for—the acceptance I never thought we'd have.

The afternoon stretches lazily.

Football plays on the TV while kids perform a Thanksgiving play that's more chaos than whatever they scripted.

I help with dishes, the kitchen assembly line of wash-dry-put away soothing me in a way.

Through the window, I spot Everly and Dylan by his car, clearly arguing.

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