Chapter Twenty – Four - Stillness in the Smoke
1555 Words
The room was quiet.
Not just in sound, but in presence.
Colt hadn’t said much when he walked in. He didn’t have to.
Avery was curled in bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp spilling across the sheets. She didn’t ask him where he’d been, didn’t need to read his face to understand what had shifted.
She felt it.
The threat was gone.
The weight had lifted off his shoulders—not completely, but enough to breathe.
When he undressed, it was with no urgency. When he joined her under the sheets, he didn’t touch her right away. He just lay there, breathing her in like she was air after drowning.
And Avery turned to him, eyes open in the dark.
No questions. No words.
She reached for him, soft fingers finding the curve of his jaw.
That was all it took.
Colt leaned into her touch and kissed her—slow and certain. Not hungry. Not claiming. Just there.
Present.
When he moved over her, she didn’t resist.
She welcomed him, every breath syncing to his without effort.
Their bodies moved with quiet precision, like muscle memory from something their hearts had always known. No orders. No teasing. No games.
Just love.
And quiet need.
Avery didn’t speak, but her hands roamed his back, his shoulders, anchoring him.
He didn’t rush.
This wasn’t about release—it was about being with her. Letting her soften the parts of him that still bled beneath the surface. Letting her remind him he wasn’t just built for violence.
She gave him more than her body.
She gave him peace.
And when he finally came undone—silently, deeply, fully—he stayed buried in her warmth, his face pressed to her neck, his breath slow and uneven.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn’t need to.
But as Colt's hand slid over her hip and held her tighter, Avery whispered the only words he needed to hear.
“I know.”
Because she did.
Whatever he’d done out there, whatever line he crossed for her—he didn’t need to carry it alone.
He had her now.
The sun was high, warm across the compound yard, casting long gold shadows from the bikes lined up in rows.
Avery sat with her legs crossed at the edge of the clubhouse steps, sunglasses perched on her nose, a half-read paperback in her lap, and a quiet smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
She looked…
untouched by war.
Light.
And everyone around her felt it.
The club was still a club—loud voices, revving engines, the rough and raw energy always pulsing through its walls—but the tension had faded. That hum beneath the surface—the one that followed every member since Avery arrived—it had gone quiet.
Because they knew.
Whatever threat had been circling her…
Colt handled it.
The compound had returned to its rhythm.
And Avery?
She finally moved through it without eyes trailing her.
No Cal in the shadows.
No tension behind her every step.
Just freedom.
Just peace.
Colt stood just inside the gate, arms folded, watching her.
She hadn’t noticed him yet.
She was too busy basking in the sun, her head tilted back, lips parted slightly in that way that always made his chest ache.
She was safe.
And for the first time, he let himself believe she might actually stay that way.
“She looks good like that.”
Reyes stepped up beside him, his usual quiet energy settling like gravity.
Colt didn’t respond right away. He just nodded.
“Tonight?” Reyes asked.
“Tonight,” Colt confirmed.
There was no hesitation in him.
Not about the decision.
Not about handing Reyes the patch.
And not about the future that was building piece by piece in front of him.
“Cal told me you were his pick,” Colt added.
Reyes nodded. “He’s been easing me into it.”
“You good with it?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
Another pause.
“You’ll have my back?”
Reyes looked him dead in the eye. “Until the end.”
And that was all Colt needed.
He glanced back at Avery.
Still smiling. Still glowing in the sun.
“Then let’s make tonight count.”
The clubhouse felt different that night.
Not louder. Not wilder.
Just charged.
The kind of energy that didn’t come from the roar of engines or the haze of whiskey—but from change. From the undercurrent that everyone felt but didn’t say out loud.
Avery stood at the edge of the room, flanked by Frankie and Cal. She wore black, tailored, a touch of gloss on her lips and diamonds in her ears. Not flashy. Not excessive. Just Avery. Refined and sharp.
Her eyes were locked on him.
Colt stood at the head of the table—cut thrown over the back of the chair, sleeves rolled up, hands braced on the surface in front of him. His presence was iron-clad and absolute. Every eye in the room was on him.
“You all know why we’re here,” he said, voice level but thunderous in its weight. “Change comes whether you want it or not. And when it does, you make a choice—evolve, or get eaten alive.”
Silence fell, thick and waiting.
“Cal has served this club longer than most of you have been breathing. And when I stepped into this role, it was Cal who had my back before I’d earned any of yours.”
Cal stayed quiet, arms crossed, head dipped.
“Now he’s stepping down. Not because he’s done. But because he knows what this club needs next.”
Colt looked toward Reyes, who stood a few feet behind him, calm and unreadable.
“Someone who speaks my language. Someone who doesn’t need to be told twice. Someone who doesn’t ask for loyalty but lives it.”
He reached back, grabbed the VP cut, and turned toward Reyes.
The room held its breath.
“Reyes,” Colt said. “You ready to bleed for this?”
Reyes stepped forward. “Always.”
Colt handed him the cut, no fanfare—just two hands meeting between them, the transfer of trust passed in quiet steel.
When Reyes shrugged the vest on, the club exploded—not with chaos, but with approval.
Fists knocked on wood.
Boots stamped.
The sound of allegiance, loud and real.
Across the room, Avery watched it all.
She saw the way Colt and Reyes shared a look—a brotherhood beginning, not born from history, but from earned respect.
And more than that… she saw Colt look back at her.
Just once.
But it said everything.
He built this.
He led this.
But she was still the thing he anchored to.
The music was low and dirty—classic outlaw rock that played like heartbeat drums under the laughter, the clinking bottles, the energy of a club not mourning an old era, but welcoming a new one.
Colt hadn’t just named a new VP.
He’d drawn a new line in the sand.
And the club felt it.
There were handshakes and cheers. Shots passed from one calloused hand to another. Reyes, always the quiet presence, accepted the nods, the claps on the back, with his usual stillness.
He didn’t need to speak to be heard.
Avery had kept her distance, watching it all unfold from the far corner of the room—until Reyes found her.
He didn’t approach with swagger. No flirt. No assumption. Just a quiet presence and a fresh drink, which he offered with a small nod.
“Figured you’d rather whiskey than beer,” he said.
Avery accepted the glass. “You figured right.”
They stood in silence for a moment, side by side, watching the celebration carry on like a wildfire that knew its borders.
“He’d burn the world down for you,” Reyes said eventually. “Just so you’d never have to feel the heat.”
Avery looked up at him. He wasn’t saying it as a warning. Or as praise.
He was just acknowledging it.
“I know,” she said softly.
Reyes sipped his drink. “I’ve got your back too. Just so we’re clear.”
Avery studied his face for a moment. He wasn’t trying to impress her. He wasn’t pretending to be her friend.
He was just… solid.
Colt’s people. Now her people too.
She nodded once. “Thank you.”
Then, before the moment passed:
“If things ever get rough on your end, you can count on me too. I might not know your world, not like Colt does. But I’ve been through fire too. I won’t fold.”
Reyes gave her the first hint of a smile. Not wide, not warm—real.
“Then I guess we’re even.”
Avery smiled into her glass, feeling something unfamiliar and undeniable settle deep in her chest.
Belonging.
And across the room, Colt watched the quiet exchange.
No jealousy. No tension. Just trust.
Because this wasn’t just about the club anymore.
This was about all of them.
Building something stronger than the sins that came before.
Together.
- Writer
