Page 15 of Saint’s Revenge

Then the warehouse explodes.

Not all at once. In stages. The south side first, a massive bloom of orange flame that punches through windows and doors. Then the west side. Then the east. Fire racing through the building, consuming everything in its path.

The sound is deafening. Glass shattering. Metal groaning. Supports collapsing.

Riley flinches against me. I tighten my arm around her waist, careful of her ribs.

"It's okay," I murmur. "It's over."

The flames climb higher. Three stories of old brick and timber going up like kindling. The heat is intense even from where we're parked, fifty yards away. I can feel it on my face.

Daniel's body is in there. Kyle's. The other seven Vipers we killed. The eight who were barely breathing. All of them burning now. Turning to ash and smoke.

No evidence. No bodies. No proof we were ever here. Just fire and destruction and the end of something that should have ended years ago.

Phoenix revs his engine. The signal to move out. But we don't leave yet. We sit there, all eight of us, and watch the warehouse burn.

Watch it collapse in on itself. Watch the roof cave in with a roar of flame and sparks. Watch five years of violence and blood and bad choices turn to nothing but smoke rising into the night sky.

Riley's breathing has evened out. I hold her and watch my brother's empire burn. Judge catches my eye across the formation. Nods once. Respectful. Acknowledging.

Brick does the same. Then Echo. Wraith. Ranger. Diesel.

Brothers. My real family now. The ones who stood with me when I needed them. Phoenix waits until the entire structure is fully engulfed. Until there's nothing left but flames and heat and the promise of ash.

Then he raises his hand. Signals forward.

We ride.

Slow at first, pulling away from the burning warehouse. Then faster as we hit the main road. Eight bikes carrying eight men who just ended a war, and one woman who started it all by being brave enough to make a phone call.

Riley shifts against me. Her hand tightens weakly on my arm.

"Lucas," she whispers. So quiet I almost miss it over the engine.

"I'm here."

"Where are we going?"

"Clubhouse."

"And after?"

I think about that. About what comes after. After her ribs heal and her bruises fade and she's strong enough to stand on her own again. About whether she'll stay or go. Whether we can rebuild something from the wreckage of five years apart.

Whether I deserve another chance after leaving her behind.

"After," I say, "we figure it out together."

Her head rests heavier against my chest. Like she's letting herself relax. Letting herself trust me to keep her safe.

"Okay," she whispers.

Behind us, the warehouse burns. Ahead of us, the road stretches into darkness. And between the two, between the past we can't change and the future we haven't figured out yet, there's just this. Eight brothers riding through the night. One woman broken but breathing, and one man who killed his brother and doesn't know yet if that makes him free or damned.

The Iron Phoenix rides home.

The war is over.