Page 125 of The Fire We Crave

“Not waiting that long. If he can’t, press his finger to his phone to open it, and message me, Smoke. I’m in his contacts. Look at something you shouldn’t, I’ll kill you.”

“Understood.” With that, she starts the car and drives away.

The parking attendant for the lot strides towards me, but I quickly jump into the van. Wondering if I just did the right thing.

I hang the lanyard over the rearview mirror and head for home.

When I return to the clubhouse an hour later, I see all the bikes out front, including my own. As I reach for the lanyard, there’s a message on my phone from Butcher.

Butcher:He’ll make it. He’s recovering now.

He’ll make it.

He’ll.

It’s from Dr. Hanson.

I let out a whoosh of air. I still have a lot of questions for Dr. Greer Hanson. Like, why was she crying? And why did she say shewasa doctor while standing in the middle of a hospital parking lot in scrubs?

But Butcher’s alive.

And that’s all that matters.

Me:Keep him that way, and I’ll see you get what we agreed.

When I step inside, the tone is muted, but Quinn runs straight at me.

“Easy, sugar,” I say when she wraps her arms around me.

“How’s my dad?” Ember asks, worry written all over her face.

“Being taken care of discretely by a Dr. Hanson,” I say. “He’s going to make it.”

The word filters through the club, and the mood changes immediately. Loud music starts, and I look over Quinn’s head to Wraith. “All good?”

He nods. “Everything.”

I read between the lines. Everything we intended is done. We took down their leadership, their premises, and their soldiers in one night.

As the party begins in earnest, I look down at Quinn and cup her cheeks. Without saying a word, I kiss her.

The sweetest welcome-home kiss ever.

“We’re safe?” she says, finally.

“Yeah, sugar. We’re safe.”

She nods. “You need to shower.”

I look down at my bloodstained clothes. “Sorry about…”

“Don’t apologize.” She places her hand over my patch. “It’s who we are. You just need to tell me what you need from me tonight to forget about it.”

The last band around my heart snaps. “You, Quinn. It’s always been you.”

EPILOGUE

SMOKE: SIX WEEKS LATER

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