No One Owns Me

Chapter 31 — The Night Before

The clubhouse hums with a quiet, heavy energy tonight—no loud jokes, no idle chatter, only purpose. The Kings check weapons and load gear with steady hands. Drake leans over the table, tracing routes across maps until his eyes burn. Duncan paces the length of the room, back and forth, like he’s still working out how to keep us all safe. Isabella sits where he left the photo of the Crown fortress, her gaze fixed on those cold concrete walls.

And me? I stand by the window, watching the dark press against the glass. Tomorrow we walk through their gates. Tomorrow we find what my father died protecting. I should be trembling. Instead, I feel a strange, clear calm—like after weeks of storm, the air has finally stilled.

Maybe because I’ve spent so long running that standing my ground feels like the bravest thing I’ve ever done.

Ward leans against the frame beside me. “You’re thinking too loud.”

I glance over. “You always know.”

“You get this look. Like you’re already halfway through the door before anyone else has even stood up.”

I smile faintly. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Have you?”

“Maybe not entirely.”

We fall quiet for a while, watching shadows stretch across the yard. Then he speaks, soft enough only I can hear: “You don’t have anything to prove tomorrow. Not to them. Not to anyone.”

“I know that.” I turn to face him fully. “I’m not going in there to show I’m strong. I’m going because I’m done being afraid. Done letting them decide who lives and who dies.”

He nods slowly. “I get it.”

My throat tightens. “I’m just… I’m scared I’ll lose someone before we’re done.”

He doesn’t ask who. He already knows.

“You can’t control how this goes,” he says gently. “But that doesn’t mean you stop fighting for the people you love.”

I huff a quiet laugh. “Since when did you get so wise?”

“Since you kept throwing yourself headfirst into danger without me.”

“Fair enough.”

His smile fades, and his voice turns serious. “Three rules. Stay with the group. Don’t go chasing leads alone. And if things go wrong—let us carry some of the weight. You don’t have to save everyone by yourself.”

I hesitate, then nod. “Okay. Promise.”

“That’s all I need.”

Much later, when the lights are dimming and most have finally rested, I sit on the front steps, breathing in the cool night air. Duncan joins me a minute later, lowering himself down beside me with a heavy sigh.

“Can’t switch off?” he asks.

“Not yet. You?”

“Same.”

We sit shoulder to shoulder for a long time, watching the stars.

“Your father would be so proud,” he says quietly.

I look at him. “You really think so? I barely remember what he was like anymore.”

“You remember more than you realise.” He smiles, soft and distant. “You remember the way he laughed too loud at bad jokes. The way he’d tease you until you pretended to be cross, then slip you your favourite sweets when no one was looking. The way he stood his ground even when everyone told him to run.”

I smile. “Yeah. I do remember that.”

“He taught you to fight,” Duncan says. “But more than that—he taught you never to let anyone else write your story.”

I lean my head on his shoulder. For the first time in years, I don’t feel like I have to be strong all by myself.

2:13 a.m.

I slip upstairs. Isabella is curled fast asleep, one hand tucked under her pillow. I climb in beside her, pulling the blanket up, and take my father’s letter from my pocket. I read it one last time, every word burned into my mind: You don’t have to inherit my fight. You only have to choose your own.

I close my eyes. Tomorrow I choose. Not the heir. Not the villain. Not revenge. Just me.

6:30 a.m.

The clubhouse wakes like a single breath. Engines roar to life. Boots thud through corridors. Doors slam. I pull on dark clothes, tuck the letter and the register safe inside my jacket, and head down.

Ward leans against the kitchen counter, waiting. He looks me over, and gives a small, genuine smile. “Ready?”

I take a deep breath. “No.”

“Good answer. Anyone who says they are is lying.”

Duncan claps me on the back as he passes. “Stick close. No heroics.”

“Understood.”

Isabella steps up beside me, her hand finding mine without hesitation. “Together?”

I squeeze tight. “Every step.”

Drake heaves open the main doors. Pale morning light spills in, gilding the edges of every bike and truck. For a heartbeat no one moves. Then Duncan’s voice rings out, steady and sure:

“Let’s finish what we started.”

We climb in. As the engines roar and the convoy pulls away, I glance one last time at the photo of the fortress. The place where my father’s hope ended. The place where ours begins.

I don’t know what waits inside. But I know this: we aren’t running anymore.

And the Crown has no idea what’s coming for it.