Buck exhaled slowly. "I need one more day."
Wren blinked. "What?"
"One more day." Buck smiled faintly. "Tomorrow, we heal and finish planning."
She stared. "And the next day?" Buck looked toward the dark horizon, toward the fight waiting for them and the women who still needed help, and then back at the woman he loved.
"The next day," he said quietly, "we go to free those women, and we fight together.” Judging by the smile that spread across Wren's face, he'd just lost that argument, but he was okay with that.
The raid lasted fourteen minutes—fourteen bloody minutes. That was all it took to destroy what remained of the trafficking network operating in King's territory. Buck stood in the center of the compound while federal agents swarmed the property. Floodlights illuminated the frozen landscape as women were being loaded into ambulances and traffickers were being loaded into handcuffs. And for the first time in weeks, nobody was shooting at him.
Ghost stood beside him with his shoulder in a sling, and the bastard looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Well."
Buck glanced over at him. "What?"
Ghost grinned. "We won." Buck looked around slowly at the rescued women and the Kings—his brothers. They had won the fight, and the final facility had fallen without the bloodbathBuck expected. Mostly because Wren had figured out something nobody else had. The accountant, not the guards and not the transport crew, was in charge. He was a quiet man named David who handled the money laundering. Wren traced discrepancies through wildlife grants and conservation contracts, and three hours later, federal agents had enough evidence to bring the entire operation crashing down. There was no war, no burning buildings, and no bodies—just arrests. Buck had never been prouder.
"She's gonna be insufferable now,” Buck said.
Ghost laughed. "Absolutely." Buck smiled despite himself, and then he saw her. Wren emerged from one of the command trailers carrying a thick folder beneath her arm. Her curls escaped from a knit cap, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. Somehow, she still stole every ounce of air from his lungs, and Ghost seemed to notice immediately.
"There it is again,” Ghost grumbled.
Buck sighed. "What?”
"The face,” Ghost said. Buck hated that Ghost wasn't wrong. He pulled Ghost into his body and kissed him hard on the lips, not caring who was watching.
“What was that for?” Ghost asked.
“You know, I get the same face when I look at you, too, right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Ghost breathed. Wren spotted them, and her smile appeared instantly. Buck felt something settle deep inside his chest. They had both become his home. Not the clubhouse or his club, but her and Ghost.
She walked over to them, and they put her between them, right where she liked to be. “How’s our girl?” Buck asked. She smiled at them both, and something important clicked into place for Buck—neither of them was standing outside this anymore. This thing between them belonged to all three of them now.
She wrapped her arms around his waist with no hesitation and no uncertainty—only trust. Buck held her tightly and buried his face briefly in her hair, breathing her in. She was alive, safe, and all theirs.
Wren looked up. "We got them,” she breathed.
Buck nodded. "We did." Tears filled her eyes immediately. It was pure relief—the kind that came after surviving something terrible. "We actually did it,” she said, kissing his cheek.
"Yeah, we did,” Buck agreed, kissing her forehead. A throat cleared dramatically behind them—Ghost. Wren laughed through her tears, and Buck rolled his eyes. He pulled Wren in for a kiss that turned Buck inside out with need, and when he finished with her, he gave Buck the same attention—like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was.
When they got back to the clubhouse, the three of them stood together watching the sunrise creep across the Manitoba wilderness. The nightmare was over, finally. Ghost wrapped his arms around them, letting the silence comfortably settle around them. It was the kind that didn't need filling.
Of course, Ghost ruined it. "As much as I enjoy standing around looking heroic—" Buck groaned, and Wren laughed, but Ghost continued anyway. "There's a small issue we need to talk about."
Buck narrowed his eyes at his guy. "What issue?"
Ghost grinned. "We never actually told Gorgon about any of this—or us." The Kings of Anarchy president still didn't know Buck and Ghost had fallen in love with the same woman, or each other, and that they were now together.
Ghost looked entirely too entertained. "Oh, this is gonna be fun." Buck immediately looked like he hated everything, and Wren burst out laughing. Ghost joined her, and Buck considered walking into the forest and living with wolves. It seemed easier.
A motorcycle engine interrupted the moment as the familiar roar rolled across the compound. Every King nearby immediately straightened, and Buck closed his eyes. “Shit.” Ghost started laughing before the bike even stopped, because they both knew that only one man rode like that—Gorgon.
The Kings of Anarchy president climbed off his bike and removed his helmet. He was massive, intimidating, and marriage hadn’t seemed to calm him down very much because he wore the same glare as he had before he left for his honeymoon.
His sharp gaze immediately found Buck, then Ghost, and then Wren, all standing together. Gorgon's eyebrows slowly climbed upward. "Oh," he said. Nobody spoke. Hell, no one even moved.
