Page 26 of Gray’s Surrender

No vague promise that Perdition has vanished. No lie about the wider world becoming safe. Behind him, Kane directs the last crates into the garage while Cash counts the steel boxes and Tank checks every returning bike to make sure every brother is accounted for. Kingdom Come took guns and money tonight, and nobody pretends otherwise.

Kingdom Come is still the club that kept Ransom afraid for thirty years. Kane hasn’t made it clean. He’s changed where its teeth land. Gray belongs to it, and loving him means I can’t pretend otherwise.

“The men from the house?”

“Alive, unfortunately.”

I look at the blood on his knuckle and Gray notices me looking.

“He’s experiencing quite a lot of pain now, it seems,” he says. “His hand may not work like it used to.”

Satisfaction moves through me, cold and clean.

“Good.”

Gray studies my face. “Does that bother you?”

“That you broke the hand a man used to hit me? No.”

My shoulders loosen. Gray takes my hand. “Come with me.” He leads me to the quiet side of the garage, away from the unloading and the common-room windows. The workbench is behind us, but this isn’t the house and isn’t a return to what happened there. He leans against the closed bay door.

“I love you.”

The words tighten my throat.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

His hands settle on my hips, but there’s still something guarded in his face.

“There’s more,” he says.

“Good.”

Gray takes a breath. I can see him building the next words from parts that don’t fit easily in his mouth.

“I don’t know what this looks like yet,” he says. “I know I want you in my bed and beside me when I wake up. I want your keys next to mine when you’re ready to leave them there. I want Ruby to care about you without me treating it like something dangerous.”

His hands tighten on my hips.

“And I’m done pushing you away because I’m scared you’ll leave.”

My throat tightens. “That sounds difficult for you.”

“Probably will be.”

“Good thing I’m stubborn.”

“I noticed.”

The truth tightens my throat as he continues. “And when I get scared, I tell you. I don’t shove you out first and pretend it’s for your own good.” He means every word, including the parts he knows he’ll get wrong.

“I’m not asking you to move in tomorrow,” he says. “I’m not asking you to give up your place or your job. But I want us working toward something.”

His hands tighten on my hips.