Page 46 of Property of Legend

I reach for my Derby charm bracelet, undo it with shaking fingers, and wrap it around his wrist.“If I can’t ride with you, at least take a piece of me into the fight.”

He doesn’t argue.Just kisses me one last time like a vow and disappears into the night with the others.

I stand in the dark field, arms wrapped around myself, and whisper a prayer, not to heaven, but to the road.

Bring him back to me.

Chapter 26

Sophie

The sun sinks over Paradise Falls in a blaze of fire and gold, bleeding across the fields like a bad omen.From the back porch, the stables stand still, drenched in that eerie hush before something breaks.Not the calm of peace.The kind of quiet that knows a war is happening elsewhere.

I’m alone, well, not technically.A few of the Kings stay behind.Derby, Whisky, and even Holler, who kept pacing like he’d rather be in the fight but isn’t about to leave me exposed.The mayor is here.Bikers brought the old dog with them.Even he seems on edge, watching the road, sniffing the air like he knows something we don’t.

The ol’ ladies and biker girlfriends who refuse to be told to stay out of it are camped around the perimeter in their “Property of” vests with rifles in hand, posted like a damn army in leather and lipstick, guarding lil’ ol’ me.

And me?I have my own rifle resting across my thighs.Safety off.Hands steady.I ain’t waiting like some wilting debutante.I’m waiting like a woman with something to lose.More than the farm.

The silence is thick enough to choke on.

Every minute drags.Every second stretches tight with dread.Somewhere out there, Legend’s fighting for me, for this place, for us.And there ain’t a damn thing I can do about it but sit and pray to the moon or the road or whatever outlaw gods watches over men like him.

And I did pray.

To bring him back.In one piece.To let me see him again.Just one more time.

The sound of engines cut through the stillness like a blade.My breath catches.

I’m on my feet before I even register moving, heart galloping wild in my chest.Tires spin, dust kicks up, and then I see him.Dirt streaked, bruised, bloody, his eyes lock on mine like he’s starving.

He doesn’t say a word as he strides up the porch.

He doesn’t need to.

I meet him halfway.

The moment our bodies collide, the world falls away.Years of bitterness snap like brittle wire.My hands fist in the back of his cut, hauling him close like I need him to keep breathing.

“I thought I lost you,” I pant, tears stinging but refusing to fall.

“You can’t lose me,” he growls.“Not now.Not ever.”

His hands cradle my face like I’m something sacred, and he kisses me.It ain’t gentle.It’s a firestorm.A match to bourbon, burning, sweet, and dangerous in all the ways I craved.His mouth moves over mine like he’s making up for every second we’ve been apart, every word we haven’t said.

He lifts me into his arms like I weigh nothing and carries me inside.Through the grand halls of my childhood, past my ancestors staring down in their oil-painted judgment, like they can stop what was about to happen.

They can’t.

Neither can daddy.We breeze past his room.

Legend kicks open my bedroom door like he owns it.Like he owns me.

“Tell me to slow down,” he rasps, teeth grazing my throat.

“Don’t you dare,” I whisper, already clawing at his cut, desperate to feel his skin.

We undress each other like it’s a war.Fingers frantic, breath ragged.

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