Crimson Steel

Chapter Twenty – Six - The Place She Belongs

The hallway was dim, the hour late, but Avery moved with purpose.

No hesitation.

She passed Reyes’ closed door. The low hum of conversation still buzzed behind it—club talk, no doubt. Plans. Power shifting into motion.

But her attention wasn’t on him.

It was ahead.

To the door left slightly ajar.

Colt’s door.

He hadn’t closed it.

He wouldn’t.

Because he’d said it plain:

He needed to know where she’d be. Every night. Every morning.

She understood that now.

Because if she was being honest with herself, she’d needed it too. Not the dominance or the title. But the anchor. The stillness in the middle of chaos.

And that was Colt.

She slipped inside quietly, the soft creak of the wood under her feet the only sound. Colt was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, one boot already off, eyes cast down like he’d been stuck in thought.

He looked up the second he felt her presence.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t smirk.

Just held her gaze like she was something he’d almost talked himself out of hoping for.

Avery didn’t say anything either.

She walked to the side of the bed, toed off her boots, and climbed in without ceremony. Slid under the blanket and settled on her side—facing him.

“You meant what you said,” she murmured.

Colt nodded. “Every word.”

She reached out, rested her fingers lightly against his bare forearm.

“Then this is me saying I heard you. I get it.”

His jaw worked, like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to ruin the moment by over-explaining.

So she filled the silence instead.

“Right now things feel light. New. But it’s going to get heavier, Colt. You know it. I do too. There’s going to be stress. Politics. Lines we’ll have to draw together. And if this”—she gestured gently between them—“is going to survive that, we can’t leave each other guessing.”

He reached out, cupped her face in his hand—thumb brushing along her cheekbone with reverence.

“You’re back in this bed?”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “And I’m staying.”

Colt nodded, kissed her softly. No heat. Just certainty.

And then he laid down beside her, his arm coming around her waist, pulling her close.

They didn’t say another word.

They didn’t need to.

Because now, they both knew—this was where she belonged.

Always.

The morning sun filtered in slow through the slats in the blinds, casting soft golden stripes across Colt’s bare back.

Avery lay curled against him, her hand resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

This was peace.

Warm.

Steady.

Real.

She blinked up at him, smiling lazily as he stirred.

“Morning,” she murmured.

His voice was still rough with sleep.

“Morning.”

Avery shifted, lifting herself to hover just above him, long strands of her hair falling down around his face like silk.

“You know,” she whispered, kissing the curve of his shoulder, “in the end…”

Another kiss, slow, at the base of his throat.

“You still got what you wanted.”

He raised a brow, hands moving to her hips automatically, gripping her with instinct and ownership.

“That so?”

She nodded, brushing a kiss along his jaw.

“Mhm. I’m in your room…”

A kiss behind his ear.

“In your bed…”

She shifted to straddle him, and he let her—muscles flexing beneath her as she moved slowly against him.

“Asking you how you want it.”

Her voice dropped into something darker.

Lower.

Unapologetically his.

“So tell me, President. How do you want it?”

Colt’s grip on her tightened, eyes flaring with heat.

“You’re playing with fire, angel.”

Avery smirked.

“Maybe I want to get burned.”

He surged up, one hand behind her neck, pulling her into a kiss that was anything but soft.

And when he pulled back, voice gravel low and dangerous, he rasped:

“Then ride it like you mean it.”

And she did.

Slow at first.

Savoring every inch of him.

Claiming him as much as he claimed her.

This wasn’t desperation.

Wasn’t chaos.

It was two people finally meeting in the middle—not broken, not battling, just bound.

And as the sun stretched wider across the bed, Colt let go of control just enough to show her what it meant:

To be his.

To have him.

To stay.

Colt came down to breakfast later than usual.

His hair was still damp from the shower, his usual dark shirt slung loosely over his frame, sleeves rolled up, tattoos peeking through. There was a quiet ease in the way he moved, like something that had been coiled tight inside him had finally let go.

And he wasn’t alone.

Avery followed a few steps behind, her heels softer than usual, her smile effortless. She had that same glow she always wore after winning in court—except this time, it was softer. Private.

The kitchen was busy but not loud, early club chatter still humming.

Reyes raised an eyebrow when Colt slid in at the table with a fresh mug of coffee in hand—Avery next to him, stealing cream packets like it was her house now. The shift was obvious.

And unmissable.

People watched. Subtly. No one would dare say a word. But it was there.

Colt Mercer, the cold, ruthless president of the Wild Sons, was letting someone sit next to him like she wasn’t just in his bed—but in his life. His laughter came low and quiet when Avery teased him about the coffee being too strong, and he actually reached for the sugar—not for himself, but for her.

Frankie caught Avery’s eye from across the kitchen and winked.

Told you it’d be hot.

Avery just smirked and stirred her coffee.

But inside?

She felt it.

The power of it.

Not just being at Colt’s side—but knowing she had brought this softness out of him. That she had made the man everyone feared lean back in his chair and laugh quietly into his mug.

It wasn’t about control.

It wasn’t about dominance.

It was about being the one person who could reach past all of that—and touch the part of him no one else could.

And yeah…

That felt pretty damn good.

The afternoon was warm and still when Avery and Frankie settled on the clubhouse porch with their usual tea.

The ceramic mugs clinked as they leaned into the quiet routine. For a place filled with chaos, oil, and adrenaline, this little corner was carved out of calm. And it had become theirs.

Frankie chatted about a new club project, some charity run they were organizing. Avery listened with half a smile, but her eyes drifted—drawn by the subtle shift in energy a few feet away.

A small group of women lingered near the bikes. Not close enough to speak, but close enough to make a point. The same women who had once asked if Colt was fair game now watched her with thinly veiled disdain.

A whisper here.

A scoff there.

And one of them made sure Avery saw the smirk she wore when she said just loud enough—

“Some girls just have to sleep their way back in.”

Avery’s fingers tightened around her mug. She didn’t respond. She didn’t flinch. Just kept sipping her tea, spine straight and expression cool.

Don’t let them see they got to you.

Not here. Not now.

Frankie side-eyed them, her jaw tightening slightly. “They’re still bitter,” she said under her breath. “You could wear a halo and they’d call it a leash.”

Avery gave a dry smile. “It’s fine. I’m used to being the outsider.”

But before Frankie could say more, a third voice cut in. Calm. Low.

But sharp enough to slice the air.

“Is there a reason you're all running your mouths like teenagers at a locker?”

Reyes.

He had stepped out from inside, unnoticed until the moment he wanted to be noticed. His eyes were on the women now—sharp and unreadable. The kind of look that made people rethink their next breath.

The group instantly quieted.

“You think Colt doesn’t know who has his back?” Reyes continued. “Think I don’t?”

He took a slow step forward, not threatening, just commanding.

“Avery’s earned her place. If any of you got a problem with that, you can take it to me. Or keep your mouths shut.”

Silence.

The group scattered without another word, muttering apologies that no one asked for.

Avery blinked, genuinely surprised.

Frankie leaned toward her, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Careful, sunshine. You’re about to have two hot men fawning over you. It’s not a triangle yet, but it’s getting suspicious.”

Avery rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed slightly.

She turned to Reyes. “Thanks.”

He shrugged once, casual. “Club protects its own. Just making sure the message is clear.”

Then he walked away without waiting for more—like it hadn’t been a big deal at all.

But it was.

And Avery felt it deep.

The tides were changing.

And for the first time since she’d stepped foot back into this world…

She wasn’t standing alone.