Page 48 of Rebel

“What are you doing?”I asked.

“Messaging Charming,” he replied, thumbs moving across the screen.“Requesting a property cut for you.Technically our three days are long up, but with everything going on, he hasn’t pushed.Now that you’ve made up your mind, I’m letting him know.”

The phrase made something in my stomach tighten -- not unpleasantly, but with the weight of significance.A property cut.The visible symbol that I belonged to Rebel, that I was under his and the club’s protection.My independence balked momentarily before quieting.This wasn’t about submission or control.It was about choice.My choice.

“That fast, huh?”I said, aiming for lightness despite the gravity of the moment.

Rebel set the phone aside and reached for me, his hand cupping my cheek with surprising gentleness.“Been waiting for you to be ready,” he admitted.“Didn’t want to push.”

The confession shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.For all his cocky exterior, Rebel had never pressured me, never demanded more than I was willing to give.He’d let me set the pace.

“What happens now?”I asked.

“Now?”His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, careful of the split.“Now we make it official.Charming will approve the cut.You’ll get my mark.The club becomes your family, for better or worse.”

“And us?”

His eyes darkened.“We were always heading here, Rio.From the first day you walked into the clubhouse.”

I laughed, wincing as the movement pulled at my bruised ribs.“Just as cocky as ever.”

“I haven’t made a secret you held my attention from the very first moment I saw you.”His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my damp hair.“You never flinched.Never looked away.Even when you saw what this life really is.”

“Because I’ve seen worse,” I admitted.“At least here, the monsters are honest about what they are.”

Understanding passed between us -- the recognition of shared darkness, of choices made in shadows.Rebel pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling in the space between us.

“Being my old lady means you’re mine,” he said, his voice low and rough with promise.“But it also means I’m yours.Equal exchange.I protect what’s mine, Rio.With everything I have.”

In another life, such possessive words might have sent me running.But tonight, covered in battle wounds and surrounded by the trappings of this dangerous man’s world, they felt like sanctuary.

“I can live with that,” I whispered.

His phone buzzed, interrupting the moment.Rebel checked it without fully pulling away from me.“Charming says the cut should be ready tomorrow.Says it’s about damn time.”

I smiled, some of the tension easing from my shoulders.“He approves of me, then?”

“After tonight?Hell yes.”Rebel’s hand traced down my arm, finding my scraped knuckles and raising them to his lips.“Club respects strength.You’ve got that in spades.”

The gesture, unexpectedly tender from a man like him, made my breath catch.“This changes things,” I said, needing to acknowledge the shift.

“Only what needed changing.”He drew me closer, until I was practically in his lap, his arms encircling me with careful pressure that avoided my worst bruises.“Everything important stays the same.You’re still you.Still stubborn as hell.Still won’t take my shit.”

“Damn straight.”

His smile turned predatory.“Except now you’ll be doing it with my name on your back.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with fear.This was Rebel -- cocky, dangerous, loyal to his core.The man who’d watched me take down two Army soldiers and looked at me with pride instead of concern.The man who cleaned my wounds with hands that had caused violence.

“I can live with that too,” I said, leaning into his embrace.

Tomorrow would bring the official recognition from the club, the adjustments to a life I was still learning to navigate.But tonight, in this room with the man who’d seen both my strength and vulnerability and wanted all of it, I felt something I hadn’t expected -- peace.

Not the peace of safety -- nothing about the Devil’s Boneyard would ever be truly safe.But the peace of belonging.Of choosing my path instead of just surviving whatever life threw at me.Of finding my place in a world that made sense to the woman I’d become.

Rebel traced the line of my jaw with his fingertips, tilting my face up to his.“No going back now,” he murmured, the words both warning and promise.

I met his gaze steadily, unflinching despite the bruises marking my skin.“I’m not looking back.Only ahead.”

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