AFTER WEEKS of chaos during the holidays, the war against Cassian and Robert had ended, leaving scars but also a tentative peace. The group had gathered to celebrate—not just victory over their enemies, but survival, resilience, and the fragile sense of normalcy that had been denied to them for too long.
Music pulsed lightly from a portable system set up near the compound. It was casual, unpretentious, a soundtrack of relief. People laughed, glasses clinked, and the smell of grilled food floated on the cool night air.
Lily walked among the crowd, observing faces she hadn’t seen without fear in months. Her eyes tracked the younger bikers who had survived ambushes and firefights. They laughed freely, some with lingering scars on their arms, necks, or hands, but alive. And that mattered.
