Unbroken Legacy

Chapter 1 — Eighteen

The Arizona sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of burnt orange and deep violet, gilding the edges of every cloud and turning the dust hanging over the clubhouse yard to glowing gold. Tonight isn’t about running or hiding or looking over my shoulder. Tonight isn’t about the Crown, or old secrets, or the ghosts that have chased us for half our lives. Tonight is ours.

I stand in the mirror of the small room at the clubhouse, smoothing down the fabric of the little black dress. It fits perfectly — clinging just enough to show every curve, falling to mid-thigh, the neckline dipping low but never too much, the silk cool and soft against my skin like it was stitched just for me. My hair falls loose over my shoulders, catching the last sunlight slanting through the window. My knives are still in my boots — old habits die hard — but tonight I don’t feel like I have to be ready for a fight. Even though I know I can handle one if I need to.

There’s a soft knock at the door. Ward. I’d know that rhythm anywhere — two quick taps, one slow one, like he’s checking I’m not asleep before he disturbs me.

When I open it, he stops for a second, his eyes sweeping over me slow and warm, like he’s memorising every line, every detail, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “You look incredible. Like something out of a dream I haven’t let myself have. And f**k, that dress… you have no idea what that does to me. Every inch of you on display just for me.”

“Not bad yourself,” I say, nodding at his dark shirt, sleeves rolled up to show the scars I know so well — the one on his forearm from a bar fight, the thin s***h across his bicep from the day he stood between me and a bullet. “And I know exactly what I do to you. I can see it already.”

He steps closer, his hand brushing my waist, his voice low and rough, thick with want. “You look like you. Strong, and soft, and entirely yours. And entirely mine — every perfect inch, every curve, every wet, sweet spot only I get to touch. If you’ll have me.”

We slip out the back, away from the noise, the music and laughter fading behind us as we step out into the cool evening air. The clock ticks past midnight. I’m eighteen. No longer the girl who ran — a woman choosing exactly where she stands, exactly who she stands with.

When the others drift back inside to give us space, Ward pulls me into his arms, and I kiss him like I’ve been waiting forever — hungry, sure, steady, everything I’ve wanted and never dared to ask for. His hands slide down my back, cupping my ass and pulling me tight against him, and I can feel how hard he is through the thin fabric, throbbing and ready for me. “Feel that? That’s all you. Just looking at you like this makes me so f*****g hard it hurts.”

“I’ve waited so long for you,” he murmurs against my mouth, his fingers slipping under the hem of my dress, skimming the bare skin of my thighs and making me shiver. “For this. For you to be here, fully, no fear, no distance between us. No more holding back, no more teasing — I’m gonna ruin you, sunshine. Gonna make you forget everything but my name.”

“I’m yours,” I whisper, kissing the corner of his jaw, the scar there that feels like home. “Every part. No taking it back, no holding anything back. And you’re mine too — this hard, this needy, all mine to take.”

He kisses his way down my neck, slow and deliberate, his teeth grazing soft over my pulse, and when he brushes over me through my underwear I gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. He looks up, eyes dark and burning, the amber flecks almost gone entirely. “So wet already for me, sunshine. All this just from touching you? This pretty little p***y is already dripping for me, isn’t it? So greedy for my fingers, for my tongue, for my cock.”

He sinks to his knees, pulls my underwear aside, and the first slow, firm lick of his tongue makes me cry out, my head arching back. “God, you taste incredible. Sweet and hot and all mine. Gonna make you come so hard you see stars. Gonna lap up every drop of this sweet wetness until you’re shaking and begging for more.” He’s slow and sure, learning every sound I make, every twitch of my hips, every quiet breath that means more. When he slides one long finger deep inside me, curling it just right to hit that spot that makes my vision blur, I arch into him. “Ward —”

“That’s it, baby. Take my finger. Stretch for me. You feel so tight, so perfect, squeezing my finger like you don’t wanna let go. Ready to take so much more, aren’t you?” He adds a second finger and stretches me gentle, his thumb circling fast and steady over my c**t. “So tight, so warm… all this wet just for me. All mine. Tell me how good it feels. Tell me how badly you need my c**k inside you.”

“I need more,” I breathe, tugging him up by the collar of his shirt to kiss him, tasting myself on his lips. “Please. I need all of you. Need you filling me up, stretching me, making me yours completely. No more waiting — I need you inside me right now.”

He lays me back on the blanket he’d already spread out on the grass, pulls my dress up over my hips, and strips off his clothes fast, never taking his eyes off me. He’s hard, throbbing, heavy, and my mouth waters just looking at him. He pauses, searching my face, his thumb brushing soft over my cheek. “Last chance to tell me to stop. No condom. I want all of you — nothing between us, ever again. Gonna fill you up, mark you from the inside, make you mine in every way. Only if you want that too.”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation, pulling him down to me, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer. “All of it. Always. Fill me up, claim me, make me yours — I want every inch of you, every drop, all of it.”

He pushes into me slow, inch by inch, and I gasp at the stretch — sharp at first, then melting into something deep and overwhelming, like he’s fitting into a space I didn’t even know was empty. He groans, forehead resting against mine, his breath fanning over my lips. “So tight. So incredibly tight. You feel like you were made for me. Like every step we took led right here. Taking me so well, baby — squeezing me like you never wanna let go. Look at me — look who owns this perfect little p***y now.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, until there’s not a single inch of space left between us. He moves slow at first, letting me get used to him, then deeper, harder, steady, every thrust a promise I don’t need him to say out loud. “That’s it — take it all. Deeper, harder, exactly how you need it. Gonna f**k you until you can’t walk, until all you can feel is me. Every thrust, every inch — all for you.” I moan his name, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving marks I hope stay there for days, every breath catching in my throat.

“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing my jaw, my throat, the hollow of my shoulder, his hips driving faster, harder, hitting that perfect spot every single time. “Let me hear you. Don’t hold anything back from me. Scream my name — let everyone know who you belong to. Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

When his hand touches me where I need it most, matching his rhythm perfectly, I shatter — crying out his name, my whole body locking up as pleasure crashes over me, bright and burning and endless. “That’s it — come for me, baby. Come all over my c**k. Milk me dry — take everything I’ve got.” He follows seconds later, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat as he spills deep inside me, holding me so tight it’s like he never wants to let go, like he’s trying to merge our souls together. “f**k — that’s it, sunshine. All mine. Filled up with me, carrying my mark, exactly how it should be. Perfect.”

We lay there tangled together for a long time, until the air cools and the first stars prick through the dark blue sky, his hand rubbing slow circles over my hip, his lips pressing soft kisses to my shoulder, murmuring against my skin how good I felt, how perfect I was, how he’d never get enough of me.

“Best birthday ever,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion, still breathless, still pressed close to me.

“Best night ever,” I smile, turning to kiss him slow.

We take our time getting dressed, stealing soft kisses every chance we get, pausing just to look at each other like we still can’t believe this is real. Hand in hand, we walk back toward the clubhouse. The music thumps loud, warm light spills from the doors, and laughter carries across the yard. When we step inside, the room goes quiet — then erupts.

“ABOUT BLOODY TIME!” someone shouts, and the whole room cheers.

Drake slams his glass down on the bar, grinning so wide his cheeks crease. “Took you long enough! We were starting to think you’d run off and elope!”

I flip him off, grinning so wide my face hurts. Duncan pushes through the crowd, holding a small velvet box, his eyes shining. “Happy birthday, both of you. You look incredible, Casey. Both of you.”

I blink — then spot her leaning against the far wall, glass in hand, that easy, reckless smile on her face. Isabella.

Of course. We’re twins. Same dark eyes, same sharp jaw, same stubborn set to our shoulders — but where I carry every scar like armour, where I stand like I’m always ready to fight, she moves like nothing can tie her down. Free as the wind. That’s her.

She saunters over, her boots thudding soft on the floorboards. “Took you forever. I was about to drag you out myself by the back of that pretty dress.”

“Some of us like to take our time,” I tease, pulling her into a hug so tight it squeezes the breath out of me, like I’m making up for seventeen years we spent apart.

“Please,” she winks at Ward, who laughs and lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I know exactly what you were doing. Good for you. Finally.”

She hands me a worn leather sheath, stitched neat and strong, the edges worn smooth like she’d worked on it for weeks. “For your favourite knife. Made it myself. Don’t tell anyone I tried hard. I’ve got a reputation.”

“Thanks,” I say, running my thumb over the stitching, my throat tight. “It’s perfect.”

Mel shoves a huge cake toward us — two sets of eighteen candles, dark chocolate icing dusted silver, little crowns piped in gold at each end. “Make a wish, girls. Anything you want.”

Isabella shrugs, her eyes glistening in the candlelight, and she squeezes my hand tight. “You first. I’ve already got everything I want right here.”

I look around — Duncan, smiling like he might cry, Ward leaning against the bar watching me like I’m the whole world, all the Kings who became family, and Isabella right beside me, my other half. I don’t need to wish. Everything I want is here.

We blow out our candles together, and the room cheers so loud the windows rattle. Isabella drags me into a dance, spinning me until I’m dizzy, laughing so hard my sides ache, while Ward leans at the bar watching us, smiling like he’d stand there all night just to see me happy.

For tonight, there’s nothing but us. No shadows, no threats, no lies. And I know exactly where I belong.

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