The clubhouse comes into view as Tessa's car rounds the final curve in the access road. After the sterile, orderly federal building, the compound has a rugged comfort to it—weathered buildings, motorcycles lined in neat rows, members moving with purpose through their domain. In just a few months, this place has become more home than I ever expected.
"How'd it go with the feds?" Tessa asks, parking near the main entrance.
"I'm testifying," I tell her. "Officially on the record."
She nods, unsurprised. "Figured you would. You've got bigger balls than half the brothers." The crude compliment makes me smile despite my lingering anxiety. "Vulture will want to know. Security implications."
Inside, the common room holds a handful of members engaged in everyday activities that once seemed bizarre but now feel normal—weapons cleaning, territory maps updating, prospects running errands under the watchful eyes of patch members. Several nod in greeting as I pass, a respect I've gradually earned through my contributions to operations and intelligence.
I find Vulture in the chapel, reviewing documents with Ice Pick. He looks up as I enter, instantly alert to my purpose.
"It's official," I announce without preamble. "I'm testifying in the federal case."
His expression remains neutral, though I catch the slight tensing of his shoulders. "Walker brief you on security concerns?"
"Thoroughly. Offered witness protection."
"Which you declined," he guesses correctly.
"I won't disappear again," I confirm. "But it does mean increased risk. For me and for the club, by association."
Vulture exchanges glances with Ice Pick, silent communication passing between them. "We've discussed this possibility," he tells me. "Security protocols are already established. You'll have protection during the entire process."
The ease of his acceptance surprises me slightly. I expected more resistance, perhaps an attempt to change my mind about testifying. Instead, I'm met with practical support and planning.
"Trial's still months away," Ice Pick adds. "Gives us time to build proper security systems, establish routines."
The door opens behind me, and I know without turning who it is. Falcon's presence registers like a change in barometric pressure—subtle but unmistakable.
"You heard," I say, turning to face him.
He nods once, his expression unreadable to anyone who doesn't know him as I do. But I catch the concern behind his controlled exterior, the tension in his jaw that speaks of internal conflict.
"Smart move declining witness protection," he says finally. "Easier to protect you here, among brothers."
The practical assessment masks deeper emotions neither of us is ready to address in this setting. Since our conversation during the raid, something has shifted between us—a tentative openness, fragile but genuine.
"The prosecutor thinks we have a strong case," I tell the room at large. "Especially if Miranda testifies too."
"Has she decided?" Ice Pick asks.
"Not yet. I'm going to talk to her today."
The meeting continues with logistics—security arrangements, communication protocols, escort schedules. Throughout, I feel Falcon's gaze returning to me, assessing, concerned, but not controlling. He's trying to respect my agency while balancing his protective instincts—an evolution I recognize and appreciate.
Later, I find Miranda in the small garden area behind the clubhouse, her face tilted toward weak sunshine breaking through clouds. Two months into her recovery, she's gained weight, cut her hair short in a style of her own choosing, and is making decisions that reclaim her autonomy piece by piece.
"They told me you went to the federal building today," she says as I join her on the bench.
"I did. I'm testifying."
She nods, unsurprised but tense. "They want me to as well."
"I know." I don't pressure her, understanding better than most the weight of the decision. "Whatever you choose, it's valid."
"I'm afraid," she admits quietly. "Not just of them, but of being that person in court. The victim. Having everyone look at me and see only what was done to me."
The fear resonates deeply. "I understand. For a long time, I couldn't separate who I was from what happened to me. They became the same thing."