Crimson Steel

Chapter Twenty – Five - After the Smoke Clears

The clubhouse had finally gone quiet.

Long after the laughter faded and the engines cooled. Long after Reyes had disappeared into the back with a few of the club’s oldest members—new patch on his chest, heavier now with meaning.

The celebration was over.

But the beginning?

It had just arrived.

Colt opened the door to Avery’s room without knocking, like he always did now—not out of entitlement, but because this was his place too, whether he slept here or not.

She stood near the small dresser, pulling pins from her hair, soft waves falling around her shoulders. Her heels were already kicked off, makeup just beginning to smudge from the long night.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“You tired?”

She glanced back with a smile that said more than words. “I’m worn out. Not tired.”

“Good,” Colt said, pushing the door shut behind him, the soft click final.

He crossed the room in slow steps.

“Because I haven’t had you to myself all night.”

Avery didn’t move as he reached her. She just tilted her chin up and whispered, “I noticed.”

Colt’s hands slid over her waist, pulling her in—his woman now, in every way that mattered. She belonged to herself, yes, but she was his too, and tonight wasn’t about power or possession. It was about the peace they’d built with blood and grit and stolen moments.

His kiss was slow and deep—no hunger, just need. Familiar. Grounded.

When he pulled away, he murmured against her lips, “We did it.”

“You did it,” she corrected. “You led them.”

He shook his head. “We built this. You and me.”

She smiled as he walked her backward toward the bed, his hands never leaving her.

“Then I guess we should celebrate properly.”

“Already planned on it,” he said, voice roughened by affection.

They undressed each other slowly, like unwrapping something sacred—not rushed, not frenzied. Just there, fully present, skin to skin, breath to breath. No one to impress. No walls left to guard.

When he took her that night, it was with reverence.

When she cried his name, it was with ownership.

And when they finally collapsed together, tangled and bare beneath the sheets, Colt kissed her shoulder and whispered what he never had to say aloud anymore:

“You’re it for me.”

And Avery, half-asleep but wide awake inside her heart, answered the only way that mattered.

“I know.”

The clubhouse was still asleep.

No rumbling engines.

No thumping boots.

Just the golden haze of early sunlight streaming through the blinds and the soft sound of the old coffee pot working through its cycle.

Avery stood barefoot in the kitchen, hair tied in a loose bun, wearing one of her usual soft-knit tops and a pair of Colt’s sweatpants rolled at the waist. She looked nothing like the woman who’d once walked courtrooms in heels—but she didn’t feel lesser. She felt settled.

She poured her coffee and turned toward the living room—only to stop short when she spotted Reyes, already awake, sitting at the end of the worn leather couch with a mug in his hand.

“Didn’t think anyone else was up yet,” she said lightly.

Reyes glanced over, gave her that quiet nod she’d come to recognize as his way.

“Didn’t sleep much.”

Avery hesitated a moment, then made her way over and sat a respectful few feet away. She curled one leg under her, holding her mug close.

They sipped in silence for a minute.

Then she spoke.

“You always this quiet?”

Reyes cracked a small smile. “When I don’t have something worth saying.”

She gave a short laugh. “Fair enough.”

Another pause. Comfortable now.

“How long have you known Colt?” she asked.

“Since before he took the seat. Back when he was still trying to figure out how to be his own man under Bear’s shadow.”

“And you followed him?”

Reyes shrugged. “Didn’t follow him. Watched him. When he earned it, I stepped in.”

Avery nodded, absorbing that. It explained a lot. Reyes didn’t bend to hierarchy—he responded to strength earned.

“You’re loyal to him.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

Reyes looked over at her then, his gaze steady.

“Because he doesn’t lead with fear. He leads with purpose. And that kind of leadership? You back it. Or you get out of the way.”

Avery studied him in return, then slowly nodded.

“Good,” she said. “Because I think he’s going to need you.”

Reyes’s tone stayed even, but the weight behind it was clear.

“He’s not the only one I’ve got.”

Avery tilted her head slightly. “You mean me?”

Reyes didn’t smile. He just said:

“I don’t half-ass anything, Avery. I protect what matters. You do too.”

She looked down at her coffee for a moment, thoughtful.

Then:

“If it ever comes to it… You’ll have me in your corner too. You respect me, I respect you.”

Reyes gave a slow nod of acknowledgment—almost ceremonial in its quiet, unspoken weight.

No handshake.

No big declarations.

Just truth exchanged in the early morning light.

The coffee between them was half gone now, but neither had moved.

The clubhouse still slept—shutters closed, air thick with the kind of calm that rarely lasted around here.

Reyes didn’t push. He never did.

But Avery… she glanced toward the window, took a breath, then spoke.

“You probably already know some of it.”

Reyes looked over at her, brow slightly raised.

“How long I’ve known Colt.”

She offered him a soft shrug and a small, rueful smile.

“Since high school. I wasn’t supposed to be part of any of this. My dad—he did everything he could to keep me out of club life. Lived off a side road with just enough distance from the madness to keep me focused on books and college applications instead of beer runs and engine grease.”

Reyes gave a faint grunt of amusement. “Didn’t work though.”

“No,” she said, smiling faintly. “Not when Colt was the storm rolling through town.”

She looked at her coffee like it held old memories.

“He was wild. Gorgeous. Reckless. And girls loved him. But I didn’t like being another one of them. I kept my distance, mostly. He didn’t.”

Reyes nodded slowly. “So you left.”

“Got into law school early. Graduated fast. Specialized in cases that didn’t make money—just saved people.”

She glanced at him, her gaze steady.

“I was a public defender before all of this. Built a name for myself in the city.”

Reyes didn’t interrupt. He just listened.

“I tell you this,” Avery continued, “because you deserve to know what I bring to the table—and what could come back to bite us. I have a past. Clients. Cases. Files someone might dig through if they think they can get leverage on me. On Colt.”

Reyes leaned back, taking that in.

“Anything you regret?”

Avery shook her head. “Not the work. Not the life I built. But sometimes… I wonder if walking away was really the clean break I thought it was.”

A moment passed. Quiet. Still.

Then Reyes spoke.

“You didn’t walk away. You walked forward. That matters.”

Avery blinked, surprised by the clarity of his response.

“You didn’t run,” he continued. “You made your own life. That’s more than most people around here can say.”

She gave him a nod. Genuine. Grateful.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “And thanks for trusting me with it.”

They finished their coffee in silence.

No tension.

No fear.

Just understanding.

A new bond formed in the quiet hours before the club woke up.

Later that morning, Avery moved through the clubhouse like she belonged there.

Because now, she did.

She checked in with Frankie in the kitchen, helped prep some care boxes for the local shelter run. They sorted canned goods and cracked jokes while a country-rock playlist crackled low in the background.

Avery’s sleeves were rolled, her hair tied up high. Her heels had been swapped for comfortable boots—still designer, of course—and she looked effortlessly in control.

Frankie watched her for a long second, then smirked.

“You know things are gonna get complicated now, right?”

Avery glanced over. “Because we’re out of granola bars again?”

“No, babe. Because Reyes is in the picture.”

Avery paused, arching a brow. “He’s Colt’s VP. It makes sense.”

Frankie gave her a look that said girl, come on.

“You, Colt, Reyes. You’re all young. Attractive. All high up in the chain. Reyes is gonna be in your space a lot. Watching your back. Learning you. And unless Colt grew out of that alpha ‘mine’ instinct—which, spoiler alert, he didn’t—this whole power trio thing is gonna be fun.”

Avery laughed, shaking her head. “There’s nothing between me and Reyes.”

“No,” Frankie said, sipping her drink. “But there’s something about what could be. It’s not about wanting each other, it’s about how you three orbit each other now. And if Colt doesn’t manage his territorial streak and you don’t get frustrated by being shadowed by someone who’s not him, it’s gonna be a rocky ride.”

Avery blinked. “That’s oddly insightful.”

“I contain multitudes,” Frankie said, grinning. “Also, I’ve seen this movie before—minus the leather and the tension so thick you could cut it with a damn crowbar.”

Avery leaned against the counter, thoughtful now.

Frankie softened.

“It’ll settle eventually,” she added. “You’re all just figuring each other out. What you’ll tolerate. What you won’t. And you? You’re a whole new variable this club wasn’t built to handle.”

Avery smiled at that. “Thanks. I think.”

“Welcome to the show, babe. It’s gonna be wild. And hot. Mostly hot.”

The hallway that led from the kitchen curved sharply, offering a clean view into Colt’s office when the door was open.

And this morning, it was.

Avery wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—but her steps slowed all the same when she caught sight of them.

Colt and Reyes.

No tension. No raised voices. Just power—shared between two men who were completely different but somehow perfectly aligned. Colt leaned over the desk, a map spread out beneath his palms, his tone low and decisive. Reyes stood at his shoulder, nodding, arms folded.

There was mutual respect there.

And something else Frankie had nailed with perfect, brutal honesty—proximity.

Reyes would be in Colt’s world every day. And now that world included her.

Avery watched them for another beat.

Colt’s presence was commanding as always. The way he moved, the way he owned space without trying—it reminded her why this entire club followed him without question. But Reyes… he was steadier. Quieter. But no less powerful.

He saw everything.

Felt everything.

And Avery realized something right then, something that settled into her bones:

This wasn’t about attraction.

It was about placement.

About proximity and pressure, and how roles overlapped before they ever found their rhythm.

Frankie was right.

Time would teach them how to exist in this triangle without tipping the balance.

Colt was her man. No part of her doubted that.

But if this was going to work—the three of them leading this club forward, each in their own role—it would take patience. Control.

And mutual respect.

Which she had.

Which Reyes had shown.

The only wild card?

Colt’s ability to let someone that close to her.

Time would tell.

Colt glanced up from the map.

And caught her watching.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen or call her out. He just held her gaze, steady as always, but sharper now—intuitive.

Avery didn’t look away either.

Not because she wanted to challenge him, but because she wanted him to see her. See that she was paying attention. That she was thinking not just as his woman, but as someone who had her own place in this world too.

For a beat, nothing moved.

Reyes continued laying out strategy, unaware or simply not caring about the silent exchange happening a few feet away.

Colt raised a brow. Just slightly. Enough to say:

You good?

Avery gave the faintest nod.

I’m good.

And then he did something small—barely noticeable to anyone else—but it landed like a stamp on her chest.

He reached out, anchored his hand on the edge of the desk, and tapped two fingers down against the wood.

Once.

A signal.

Something between I see you and I got you.

Avery’s lips curved, just enough.

Not quite a smile.

Not quite an invitation.

Just understanding.

Then she turned and walked away, not out of discomfort—but with the silent confidence of a woman who knew exactly where she stood.

Back in the office, Colt tracked her departure with his eyes for a second longer than necessary.

Reyes didn’t comment.

But he didn’t need to.

Because Colt had seen it too—the shift. The awareness. The truth that every power structure needed time to settle, and that sometimes the biggest threats weren’t enemies…

They were unspoken expectations.

Colt found her later that afternoon in the quiet corner of the clubhouse library—one of the few places people rarely lingered. She had a book in her lap, but her eyes weren’t on the pages. She was staring out the window, calm but miles away.

He didn’t knock.

Just walked in, slow and sure, and sat in the chair across from her.

She looked up.

“You busy?” he asked, voice low, like the walls might echo too loud.

Avery shook her head. “Not really.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on hers.

“You were watching me and Reyes earlier.”

It wasn’t a question.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

A beat passed between them. Neither tense nor sharp. Just full.

“You have something you want to say?” Colt asked.

“No,” she said honestly. “Just… watching. Thinking. Processing.”

He watched her a long moment, then leaned back slightly, studying her with that familiar steel that always masked something far softer.

“You worried?”

Avery smiled. “Not about you and me.”

Colt’s jaw ticked, but he said nothing, waiting for the rest.

“Just thinking about how we’re all still learning to move around each other. Frankie said something earlier—about things getting rocky. About how close Reyes is gonna be now. She wasn’t wrong.”

Colt let that sink in, then nodded slowly.

“You trust him?”

“I do.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, quieter this time.

Avery didn’t hesitate. “With my life.”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said. “No one’s stepping into your space without going through me first.”

She gave a quiet laugh. “I don’t need a wall, Colt. I need a partner who knows when to let me stand in my own.”

His eyes softened.

“I do. I know it better now than I ever have. You walked through hell to be here. And I’m not blind—I know this world wasn’t built for you. But I’m building our version of it. Every day. Brick by goddamn brick.”

She reached for his hand, their fingers locking without effort.

“I see that,” she whispered. “I see you.”

And for the first time that day, the silence felt settled again.

Not loaded.

Not questioning.

Just full of everything they didn’t have to say.

Colt watched her hand in his for a long moment, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

Then he spoke—low and deliberate, the words scraped clean of pride.

“I get what you’re trying to say. I do.”

He leaned back in the chair slightly, eyes not leaving hers.

“You’re not mine to lock up. You’ve never been. You stayed when you didn’t have to. You gave when you didn’t owe. That matters.”

Avery’s throat tightened, but she stayed quiet—letting him finish.

“But I’d be lying if I said I know how I’ll react if something ever happens—if I see something between you and Reyes that makes me question where you stand.”

He let that settle in the air. Not a threat. Just truth.

His truth.

“I trust you,” he added, “but you walking away from our bed? From my space? That f***s with my head more than I expected.”

Avery opened her mouth to respond, but Colt raised a hand, gently.

“I’m not asking for everything. I’m not even asking for answers. I just… if you want to settle that fear in me—if you want me to lead without that edge under my skin—you’ll be in my bed again. Because then I’ll know. Every night. Every morning.”

He swallowed hard.

“That’s where you are. With me. Always.”

Silence again.

But this time, it wrapped around them like safety instead of tension.

Avery nodded slowly, her voice soft but sure.

“Okay.”

Colt let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he stood, leaned over, and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead—his lips lingering longer than they needed to.

“I’ll be in my room tonight,” he murmured. “Door open.”

And then he was gone, his quiet exit leaving behind a room full of everything they didn’t need to say anymore.