Page 90 of All's Fair in Love & Wrath

“Now that Saint has his club back, we need to file the paperwork and get them set up. Wrath, you gotthat?”

“Yep, already prepped. You got their cuts?”

Chaos nods, Malice standing to open the door and let them inside. Saint, Deacon, and Creed file in, standing off to the side. They’re wearing their street clothes, having burned their Kingsnake cuts in the bonfire last night. Rogue will deal with the little issue of their tats before heading back to Aspen Ridge, but right now? Now, we initiate.

“The Hell’s Heathens Motorcycle Club is a family. By taking this oath, you are bound to us, to each other, until the Devil himself comes to take you back home. As the newest chapter of Hell’s Heathens, you will answer the call if we need it, just like we will do for you. This binds us together in life and death. Do you accept?”

“I do,” they all echo.

“Repeat after me.We’re Hell’s Heathens. Forged in fire, bound by blood, and loyal beyond the grave. We ride not for glory, but for each other. In a world that turned its back on us, we chose brotherhood. We protect our own, stand for what’s right when no one else will, and never leave a Heathen behind. Family isn’t born; it’s earned on the road. Home is the clubhouse; family is the cut. We live and die for each other. The only way out is back through hell’s gates.”

They repeat our sacred vows, and then Chaos pulls out their cuts with the skull, crown, and knife patched onto the back. He holds out the first one, holding up the leather.

Saint. President. Hell’s Heathens: Autumn Bay. Then slides it onto him.

Deacon. Vice President. Hell’s Heathens: Autumn Bay.

Creed. Sergeant at Arms. Hell’s Heathens: Autumn Bay.

“Welcome to the Hell’s Heathens, boys. Here’s to the next chapter.”

Epilogue Sienna

SIENNA

Years later

“Are you sure about this? I really love the blonde, and now what are we going to do together?” Crew whines from behind me.

“I’m sure. And we don’t even match anymore, so you’re a traitor. We’ll find something else to do for fun.” Crew gives me a challenging look in the mirror, his hands running through his dark purple hair. He’s taken the sides down short, the top longer and colored, still wild and doing whatever it wants. “I promise we will find something else to do!” I tell him. For the last few years, Crew and I have been taking turns bleaching each other’s hair every six weeks like clockwork. But now that I’ve decided to embrace my natural autumn-red hair, there won’t be a need for him to do mine, and I’m sure Monroe will gladly take over doing whatever color he’s decided to try next on his.

The last few years have been a whirlwind of growth, healing, finding myself, and letting go of everythingthat was holding me down. Axel and I are still living in his room at the clubhouse, and I’m honestly not in a rush to ever leave our little oasis we’ve created with each other. About a month after I killed Cain, I knew I needed to get out and start living. That’s all I ever wanted, and there wasn’t anything holding me back. Fear still pops up from time to time—a news article, a TV show with a certain storyline, my own brain being a traitor—but for the most part? I feel in control. I feel free and happy.

I started working at Daily Rise with Mrs. Odette, and it was only about six months before she forced me into the kitchen to teach me how to create her masterpieces. Three years later, and I’m practically running Daily Rise by myself, with Mrs. Odette popping in a few times a week to chat and reminisce. It’s everything. I love working with my hands, love creating and building delectable treats that people line up for. It’s fulfilling, even if the hours are long and hard some days.

“Last chance, Sienna-poo, are you ready to be a redhead again?” I look at myself one more time in the mirror. My red roots push through the blonde, the last remaining reminder of the woman I used to be, a reminder of my mother. I got rid of my red because I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror and be reminded of what happened to me. I was trying so hard to control the most basic of things, but now? Now I just want to be me. Fully. My hair doesn’t change anything that happened to me. And it certainly doesn’t change who I am. So, I’m done hiding it. There’s no right or wrong way to heal from trauma, and some days take more effort than others, but the only thing that matters is taking one step in front of the other and reminding myself of what’s most important. I’mnotwhat happened to me.

I’m a survivor. A warrior. A queen.

“I’m ready. Let’s do this!”

Axel is leaning casuallyagainst the deck, a smoke in his hand, his gorgeous dark hair perfectly combed back. He’s wearing a pair of ripped denim jeans, boots, a plain black T-shirt that hugs his body perfectly, and his leather cut. His arms are chiseled and bulging in the fabric of his shirt, tattoos on full display, a chain hanging from his pocket. He looks so good it should be illegal.

I walk out of the clubhouse, wearing a pair of tight jeans, my leather combat boots tied at my ankles, a tee, and my favorite accessory . . . my property jacket. When Axel looks up and makes eye contact with me, his face morphs, working through his emotions. A slow, proud smile curls on his lips as he kicks off the railing, walking right up to me, hands slipping through my hair.

“My beautiful girl. How do you feel?”

“Like me.”

“Fuck, baby. You’ve always been beautiful to me, Sienna, and you always will be, even when your red fades to gray, but seeing you in control, embracing this, you’re stunning.”

“I love you, Axel James.”

“I love you, Sienna Graves.”

“Ride with me?”

I nod, taking Axel’s hand as we walk over to his bike. It’s fall, his favorite season, and we’ve been taking rides as often as we can to soak in the cool weather and the changing leaves.