Page 119 of Undisputed Chaos
The thought hit me with clarity. Not the manic energy I usually thrived on, or the adrenaline rush of controlled chaos.
It was this quieter thing, this sense of rightness that came from being exactly where I belonged, with the people I was meant to be with.
"You're getting sappy again," Connor mused.
"Fuck off," I replied without heat. "I'm allowed to get sappy. I have a girlfriend now. It's in the handbook."
"There's a handbook?"
"Absolutely. Chapter one: Get possessive. Chapter two: Get sappy. Chapter three: Learn to appreciate romantic shit like Ferris wheels and starlight."
Jax snorted. "What's chapter four?"
I grinned, the expression probably visible from space. "Chapter four is classified."
The wheel carried us higher, and I could see the girls in their gondola, heads together as they shared some secret that had them all giggling.
Whatever they were sharing, I was pretty sure we weren't going to like it.
They could plot and scheme and laugh and turn us inside out with their perfectly orchestrated plans—we’d be right there to catch them when they fell, to clean up whatever messes they created, to love them through whatever madness they dragged us into.
Because that's what families do. Not the kind I'd been born into, made of violence and fear. It was the kind we'd chosen, built from blood, trust, and loyalty that ran soul-deep.
My girl. My brothers. Their girls. My perfect, insane, unbreakable family.
The carnival spread out below us, all lights and laughter and temporary magic.
But us, together, complete for the first time in any of our lives, was permanent.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Adrian
Ilounged across my leather couch, phone in one hand, knife twirling between the fingers of the other as I scrolled through my upcoming fight schedule.
The afternoon light filtered through my windows, casting long shadows across the room.
Isla sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, arranging her newly purchased painting supplies with a methodical precision I found endlessly fascinating.
A week together, and I still couldn't stop watching her. Every movement, every expression. She would absently touch the ribbon at her throat when lost in thought, and it drove me wild.
The sunlight caught in her hair, turning it to light liquid gold against her pale blue sundress. She was entirely mine.
I set my phone down, abandoning any pretense of caring about fight schedules when the most captivating show on earth was happening three feet away from me.
Isla's fingers moved with delicate purpose as she mixed colors onher palette, creating swirls of blue and gold that somehow matched the ocean depths of her eyes.
Those eyes, dark blue and impossibly deep, narrowed slightly as she studied her blank canvas, seeing things there I couldn't yet imagine.
"So," I said casually, still twirling the knife, "I've got a fight this weekend. In Tampa."
Isla looked up, a smudge of dark blue already decorating her hand despite having barely started.
The contrast of that vibrant color against her pale skin made my cock twitch with interest. I wanted to lick it off, to taste the paint and her skin together.
"This weekend? That's soon," she said, her voice soft and musical in the quiet.
Everything about her was soft—her voice, her skin, those curves I wanted covered in my fucking cum.
