Page 49 of Judge's Justice

"Looks like it."

"That means we're meant to be friends." Grace says it with such certainty that my heart aches.

Friends. For now, that's what I am to Grace. Her friend. Her protector. The man who keeps his promises. And someday, when Nora's ready, when we're both sure, when the timing is right, I'll be more than that.

I'll be her family.

But for now, this is enough. More than enough.

"Come on," I sign to Grace. "Let's go get that ice cream."

Grace grabs my hand and Nora's hand, pulling us both toward the kitchen. Ivy follows, already opening the freezer and pulling out containers.

Canvas looks at me over Grace's head and grins. "Cookie dough for everyone?"

"Cookie dough for everyone," I agree.

We gather around the kitchen island—me, Nora, Grace, Ivy, Canvas, and Saint who appears from nowhere the second hehears there's ice cream. Grace is bouncing on her toes, signing rapidly about all the different kinds of ice cream she's tried, making everyone laugh.

And I stand there, my ribs aching, my shoulder throbbing, my face still swollen and bruised, and I've never felt more content in my entire life.

This is it. This is what I've been searching for without knowing what to call it. Purpose. Family. Home.

Forty-three years. That's how long it took to find this.

Twenty years in the military watching people die.

Three years in a motorcycle club fighting a war.

All of it, every scar, every nightmare, every broken piece, led me here. To this moment. To this family.

Worth it.

Every fucking second of it was worth it.

Epilogue - Nora

Two years

Two years since I got off that bus in Millhaven looking for safety and quiet. Two years since a Viper cornered me at a bus station and Judge Warren, saved my life.

Two years since everything changed.

I stand in front of the mirror in the Iron Phoenix clubhouse, adjusting my dress for the hundredth time, and I can barely believe this is real. The woman staring back at me looks happy. Actually, genuinely happy. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, her smile so wide it hurts.

The dress is simple: white, knee-length, with lace sleeves that cover my arms. Nothing extravagant. Nothing fancy. Just me, in a dress that makes me feel beautiful, about to marry the man who makes me feel seen.

"Mama, you look like a princess!"

I turn to find Grace standing in the doorway. She's seven now. Taller, her curls longer, pulled back in an intricate braid that Ivy spent an hour perfecting this morning. She's wearing a pale pink dress, carrying a small basket of flower petals, and she looks so grown up it makes my chest ache.

"You look like a princess too, baby," I sign back.

Grace grins and does a little twirl, her dress flaring out. "Judge is going to cry when he sees you. I know it. He always gets that look when you get dressed up."

"What look?"

"The one where his eyes go all soft and he smiles without meaning to." Grace walks over and takes my hand. "Like you're the best thing he's ever seen."