Page 74 of My End
Tilly was my end.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tilly
I never imagined I’d walk a black carpet in front of a movie theater, but here I was, wearing a flowy, paint-splattered chiffon dress in deep shades of violet and teal that fell just below my knees, my hair pinned loosely with curls tumbling down, and a man by my side who looked at me like I held every star in the sky.
Stretch’s hand was warm on my lower back as we stepped through the chaos of camera flashes and shouted names. Well…theirnames. The photographers didn’t know who I was yet, but they were shouting for the Iron Fiends. For Yarder, Aero, Dice, Fade, Compass, Throttle, Smoke, Cue Ball, Pirate, and of course, Stretch.
The guys showed up in what could only be described as formal biker attire: jeans, white T-shirts, and their cuts polished to perfection. Not a wrinkle in sight. They looked like the badass royalty of the MC world. The girls, though? They showed up in style. From Saylor’s sleek black dress with silver studs to Lainey’s flirty skirt and wedge combo, the ol’ ladies brought just enough glam to remind everyone that behind every powerful man was a woman who could burn the world down for him.
And then there were the paintings.
Ten easels lined the entryway to the theater, five on each side, forming a corridor of color and grit and pride. Each portrait stood tall beneath its own spotlight, catching the gaze of every single person who stepped foot near the doors. I’d painted them larger than life, because that’s how I saw the men in this club. That’s how I saw Stretch.
I loved all of the paintings, but of course. I had my favorite.
Stretch’s… that one made me stop every time.
He stood in profile, his face turned just slightly toward the viewer, like he’d been caught mid-thought. His hair was tousled, his jaw tense, but his eyes… his eyes were looking right at me. Soft, guarded, and sure. Like he saw me. Like he’d never stop seeing me.
“Damn,” a woman whispered behind me. “Who painted these?”
“Girl, I don’t know, but that one?” Her friend pointed to Stretch’s portrait. “I’d hang that over my bed and stare at it all day.”
I flushed and smiled to myself.
“You hear that?” Stretch’s voice rumbled next to me. “You’re starting trouble, sweetheart.”
“Just showing the world what I see,” I murmured and turned into him.
He dipped his head to press a kiss just below my ear. “The world’s lucky you’re finally letting them see.”
We hadn’t even made it to the door when Sloane and Dove came flying toward me.
“You have to meet Alice,” Sloane gushed. “Shejustgot here.”
“She’s going to freak when she sees the portraits,” Dove added. “I bet she’s going to ask you to do portraits of her cows.”
I blinked. “Cows?”
Sloane snorted and nodded toward the carpet. “See for yourself.”
Sure enough, coming up the black carpet was a woman with vibrant purple hair, confident strides, and a tank top that readJust One More Cowacross the front. Her black cardigan fluttered behind her like a cape. But it was the man next to her that made my jaw go slack.
Towering, broad-shouldered, tatted arms, long dark beard, and an expression like he had zero time for anyone’sbullshit. Even on a black carpet, he looked like he could tear down a building just by leaning into it.
“I thought I was going to hate this,” the woman, Alice, said as they reached us, “but it’s actually kind of fun. Almost like we’re famous for a night.”
Wrecker grunted, “I’m good with our life back at home.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Cameras in your face are about to be your reality.”
“The Fallen Lords are going to be the next MC featured onTread,” Sloane explained, excitement sparking in her voice.
“Oh,” I said, “that sounds great, though I’ll admit I’m glad I missed the taping for the Iron Fiends. I just get to see how crazy their lives were.”
Alice turned her attention to me, and her eyes narrowed. “You must be the lucky girl who wrangled Stitches.”
