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Weight covered his back slowly; a wheezing breath rasped in his ear.
Wyatt.
“Tell them… I love… them.” His voice was weak, a horrible rattle tainting the words. “That I’m… sorry. They’re… everything…”
The sentence wasn’t finished.
As the roar of hungry flames drowned out everything but the beat of his heart, Zeke closed his eyes against the raging heat and blinding glare of fire devouring the world. The weight on his back was unnaturally heavy, the ragged breaths no more.
Agony consumed him, sucking him into the dark.
***
Present day
Zeke
“Holy hell, Braun. It’s fuc—fluffing beautiful.”
The afternoon was bright and sunny, with only the slightest breeze to wick away some of the intense heat. Sunlight bounced off the treated glass extension, gleaming off freshly painted wood.
Three years after the explosion that left three men dead and a crater in the ground, Avalon was back. No bigger than before, but definitely new and improved if the outside was anything to judge by.
Zeke rubbed his chin and studied the long, sleek construction with a critical eye, unconsciously mirroring the pose of the Masters standing beside him. He felt honored to be included; this was a momentous occasion, a long-awaited one, and by rights, he wasn’t a club Master.
But these men were his family. They’d sat by his bedside during the three months he’d been stuck in a damn induced coma and kept him company throughout the physical therapy sessions his broken leg required. Their women spent weeks bringing him food and books, staying with him and listening to his stories to pass the interminable boredom.
Letting him play with the kids and be part of the family.
“Still curbing your swearing, J?” Braun laughed, the lines on his face deepening with humor. The past few years had taken a heavy toll on the club owner, but he remained a strong and intimidating figure. There was more gray in his hair, and those lines, yet his eyes hadn’t aged.
“Kaylyn casually told my wife that the spilled milk on the kitchen floor came from, and I quote, ‘her imaginary fucking friend’.” The sadist’s lips pursed as he tried to stem his smile. “That imaginary friend gets her into a lot of trouble.”
Saul grinned. “Sasha has one. Apparently, hers is the voice of reason, keeping her on the right track. For a rising three-year-old, her moral compass is well-honed.”
Braun rolled his eyes. “And here I am, grateful that Declan finally learned how to hit the toilet bowl with at least twenty percent of the stream.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that.” Rocking from side to side with his six-month-old son strapped to his chest, Thane’s alarmed eyes darted from Braun to Atticus. “Connie made me promise I’d be on eternal potty-training duties if we had a boy.”
“Declan’s a hellraiser.” Liam smirked, dragging his attention away from the club. “I’ve seen him in the bathroom. He does this hip-swinging movement and lets his dick swing around like a firehose. There’s no effort to keep it under control. I’m sure Tate will be less inclined to drive his mom crazy.”
A flush rose up Thane’s throat. “I hope so, seeing as we’ll be welcoming another one in a few months.”
“Again?” Loki’s mouth dropped open. “You just got that one!”
Zeke added his congratulations to the rest as Thane’s back was slapped several times. He enjoyed spending time with this bunch; the camaraderie and banter were unlike anything he’d found before.
“What can I say? It took long enough to conceive this little guy, and Connie wants to keep the ball rolling while we can. Neither of us had siblings, and we know how lonely it can be. Tate deserves a brother or sister.” Touching his fingertip to the pudgy cheek not smushed against his chest, Thane’s face glowed with a father’s love. “Maybe we’ll go for a third, for luck.”
From the far end of the line, Jasper snorted. “Stick with one, trust me. Kaylyn’s too smart for her own good, Mia’s an angel unless she wants something she can’t have, and I’m dreading the day Callum is old enough to get sucked into their nefarious schemes.”
“They’rethree, J,” Braun pointed out.
“They hold conversations in people language,” Jasper fired back, “and in some weird, nonsensical babble that only they understand. It’s like pig Latin, only infantile. It’s fucking baby Latin.”
“Prepare for a hostile takeover,” Atticus rumbled. “They’re coming for you, J.”
“Don’t mock me just yet, brother. I’m not the only one with three kids to wrestle into submission.”
