I want to believe him. I want to trust that the club can withstand whatever is coming, that love, loyalty, and supernatural power are enough to hold back the tide. But fear still coils in my chest, quiet and persistent, whispering that some battles can’t be won with strength alone.
“What if they’re stronger than you think?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds. “What if—”
He cuts me off with another kiss, fierce and possessive, silencing my doubts with the kind of certainty that only comes from three centuries of surviving impossible odds.
“Then we burn them down together,” he declares against my lips, eyes blazing with fire and ice and absolute conviction. “Nobody…nobodytakes what’s mine.”
Outside, the forest whispers warnings.
The fae are gathering.
War is coming.
But wrapped in Raze’s arms, bonded and finally home, I find myself believing that maybe, just maybe, love is the most powerful magic of all.
Even against impossible odds.
Chapter Twenty-Two
RAZE
Midnight
The clubhouse breathes differently at night.
Not silent.
Never silent.
Just… quieter.
The kind of stillness that settles after a storm when warriors finally allow themselves to exist without watching every shadow for teeth.
Roxy sits sideways across my lap on the battered leather couch tucked into the alcove off the main club room, far enough from the noise that the world feels smaller here. One of my hands rests at her waist, thumb tracing slow circles through the thin fabric of her shirt while the other threads idly through her hair, combing through strands that still smell faintly of soap and smoke.
Fire hums low beneath my ribs, restless but calmer than it’s been in weeks.
She leans back into me without hesitation, trusting the space I create around her, trusting me. The weight of that never stops feeling unreal.
“I keep waiting to wake up and forget again,” she murmurs, voice rough from sleep and everything we burned through hours earlier.
“You won’t,” I say, more promise than certainty. My fingers curl gently at the nape of her neck. “Not this time. The witch took what she wanted already. What’s left is yours.”
She tilts her head back, eyes finding mine, and the faint smile she gives me is enough to ease something old and jagged insidemy chest. “I’m glad I remembered,” she says. “Even the hard parts.”
A low sound leaves me, something almost like a laugh. “The hard parts are usually my fault.”
Her hand covers mine, where it rests against her stomach. “You didn’t make me choose you,” she says quietly.
No.
She chose anyway.
The memory of her beneath me only hours ago flickers sharp and vivid, heat ghosting through my blood despite the quiet around us. The way she said my name like it mattered. The way my dragon stilled for the first time since she returned.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” she adds. “About my mother. About everything.”
“You’re here now,” I murmur, pressing a slow kiss against her temple, letting myself exist in this fragile moment without thinking about curses, courts, or consequences. “That’s enough.”