EMILIA POV

The key turned silently in the lock. I wanted to surprise David.

I dropped my suitcase by the door and kicked off my heels. The apartment was quiet except for sounds coming from our bedroom. My heart started racing for all the wrong reasons.

"David?" I called out softly, my voice echoing in the empty hallway.

No answer. Just muffled voices and movement.

I crept down the hallway, each step making my chest tighter. The bedroom door was cracked open. Through the gap, I could see tangled sheets and bare skin that didn't belong to just one person.

My hand trembled as I pushed the door open.

David was in our bed. With Rebecca. My best friend her blonde hair spread across my pillows while she straddled my fiancé.

They both froze when they saw me.

"Surprise," I said, my voice sounding flat and cold.

David scrambled to sit up, pushing Rebecca off him. "Em, this isn't... I can explain..."

"Explain what?" I stepped into the room, crossing my arms over my chest.

Rebecca pulled the sheet up to cover herself, unable to meet my eyes. "Emily, we didn't want you to find out like this."

"How long?" I repeated, my hands clenching into fists.

David ran his hands through his hair. "Six months."

Six months. While I'd been planning our wedding. While I'd been working sixty, hour weeks to pay for the perfect dress, the perfect venue, the perfect life we were supposed to build together.

"Get out," I said to Rebecca, pointing toward the door.

She grabbed her clothes from the floor. "Em, please, let me explain"

"Get out of my apartment. Now." I stepped aside as she dressed quickly.

Rebecca ran past me without another word. The front door slammed behind her.

David wrapped the sheet around his waist and stood up. "Baby, please. It didn't mean anything."

"Don't." I held up my hand, taking a step back. "Don't you dare make this my fault."

"I'm not," he said, moving closer. "I'm just saying we've grown apart. You're always working, always focused on your career"

"So you decided to sleep with my best friend?" I walked to our closet and pulled out my suitcase.

"It was a mistake," David said, following me. "A stupid, meaningless mistake."

"Six months isn't a mistake, David." I started throwing clothes into the suitcase without looking. "It's a choice."

David grabbed my wrist. "Where are you going?"

"Away from you." I yanked my arm free and continued packing.

"Em, come on. We can work through this," he pleaded. "Couples therapy, whatever you want."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You want to know something funny? I actually thought you were perfect, especially for a family."

"What does your family have to do with this?" David asked, confusion crossing his face.

I zipped up the suitcase and faced him. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Because they'd never do this to someone they claimed to love."

David's face darkened. "Your family are criminals, Em. Your father was a thug who"

The slap happened before I could stop myself. My palm stung from the contact with his cheek.

"Don't ever talk about my father," I said quietly, my voice deadly calm.

David touched his reddened cheek. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. You pretend to be this sophisticated city girl, but underneath you're still just a biker's daughter with anger issues."

"You're right." I picked up my suitcase, shouldering my purse. "And you have no idea how lucky you are that I'm not my brother."

I walked to the door, then turned back. "The ring is on the kitchen counter. Don't ever contact me."

"Em, wait" David called out.

The door closed between us with a final click.

I made it to my car before the tears started. Four years. Four years of building this perfect life, this perfect relationship, this perfect lie that I could be someone else.

My phone buzzed. A text from Rebecca: Please talk to me. I'm so sorry.

I deleted it without reading it twice.

Another buzz. David: I love you. Please don't leave like this.

I turned the phone off and started the engine.

I drove to the only place I could think of Sofia's apartment across town. My friend from college who'd stuck by me when I'd tried so hard to reinvent myself. She was the only person in the city who knew where I really came from.

I knocked on her door at eleven PM, probably looking like hell in my wrinkled business suit with mascara streaks on my cheeks.

Sofia opened the door in pajamas, took one look at me, and pulled me inside. "What happened?"

"David was sleeping with Rebecca," I said, letting her guide me to the couch.

Sofia wrapped me in a hug. "That pendejo. I never liked him anyway."

"You never said that." I pulled back to look at her.

"Because you seemed happy," Sofia said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "But he was boring as shit, Em."

I laughed despite everything. "Six months. They've been together for six months."

Sofia stood up and walked to her kitchen. "His loss. You want wine or tequila?"

"Tequila," I said without hesitation.

Sofia poured two shots and sat back down beside me. "So what now?"

"I don't know." I downed the tequila, welcoming the burn. "I gave up everything for him. My job, my apartment is in both our names, my whole life here."

Sofia leaned forward, studying my face. "You didn't give up everything. You gave up a life that wasn't really you anyway."

I looked at her, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Em," Sofia said, her voice gentle. "I've known you for six years. The real you comes out when you're angry, when you're passionate about something. The rest of the time you're playing dress, up."

Before I could answer, my phone started ringing. I'd turned it back on out of habit.

Unknown number. Area code 760.

Home.

My blood turned to ice. Nobody from Desert Ridge ever called me. Marco and I barely talked, and Dad... Dad didn't believe in phones for personal calls.

Sofia watched my face change. "Answer it."

My hands shook as I swiped to answer. "Hello?"

"Em?" Marco's voice was rough. "Em, you need to come home."

My stomach dropped to the floor. "What's wrong?"

"Dad's dead," Marco said. "The Reapers got him. They shot up the clubhouse last night."

The phone slipped from my fingers but Sofia caught it before it hit the ground.

"Em? Em, are you there?" Marco's voice called from the speaker.

Sofia held the phone to my ear, her other hand gripping my shoulder. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry, baby sister," Marco continued. "I know you two didn't talk much after you left, but"

"How?" My voice was barely a whisper.

Marco's voice cracked. "Three bullets to the chest. He was leaving Mama C's house when they jumped him."

The world tilted sideways. My father. Vincent Romano. The man who'd taught me to ride a bike, who'd scared away every boy who looked at me wrong, who'd let me leave for college even though it broke his heart.

Gone.

"Em, I need you to come home," Marco said. "The funeral's in three days, and with the war starting"

"War?" I found my voice.

"The Reapers think they can take our territory now that Dad's gone," Marco said, his voice turning cold. "They're wrong. But I need my family here. I need you here."

I closed my eyes. "Marco, I can't. I don't belong in that world anymore."

"You're a Romano," Marco said firmly. "That blood doesn't wash off, no matter how many suits you wear."

Sofia squeezed my shoulder, nodding encouragingly.

"Okay," I whispered. "Okay, I'll come home."

"Good. And Em..." Marco's voice got quiet. "Axel's back. He's coming to get you."

The phone went dead in my hands.

EMILIA POV

I stared at the phone for a full minute after Marco hung up.

"Who's Axel?" Sofia asked quietly.

My throat felt like tight. "My brother's best friend."

"And?" Sofia prompted, settling back on the couch.

I set the phone down with shaking hands. "And the reason I left home in the first place."

The tequila burned in my empty stomach. I hadn't eaten since the plane landed six hours ago. Six hours ago when my biggest problem was surprising my cheating fiancé.

Now my father was dead. The Iron Serpents were at war. And Axel Cruz was coming for me.

Sofia poured another shot and pushed it toward me. "Start from the beginning."

"I was sixteen," I said, downing the tequila. "He was twenty, two. Marco's best friend and Dad's enforcer."

"Enforcer?" Sofia raised an eyebrow.

"The guy who collects debts and handles problems," I explained. "With his fists usually."

Sofia nodded. "Okay, so older guy, dangerous job. I'm guessing your dad didn't approve?"

I laughed bitterly. "Dad caught us together and threatened to have Axel killed if he ever touched me again."

"Jesus." Sofia whistled low. "So what happened?"

"Axel left that night," I said, my voice getting quieter. "Six years ago. Didn't say goodbye, didn't explain. Just disappeared."

"And you haven't seen him since?"

I shook my head. "Marco said he's been working as a gun, for, hire across the country."

"But now he's back," Sofia said.

"Now he's back." I stood up and started pacing. "And Marco's sending him to get me."

Sofia watched me wear a path in her carpet. "You're scared."

"Terrified," I admitted. "Six years, Sofia. Six years I've spent trying to forget him, and in one phone call, it all comes rushing back."

"What was he like?" Sofia asked softly.

I stopped pacing and closed my eyes. "Dangerous. Beautiful. The kind of man who could make you forget your own name with just a look."

"Sounds like the opposite of David."

"Completely." I opened my eyes. "David was safe. Predictable. Everything Axel wasn't."

"And how did that work out for you?" Sofia asked with a knowing smile.

I groaned and collapsed back on the couch. "Point taken."

My phone buzzed with a text. Unknown number: Pack light. I'll be there in eight hours. , A

I showed Sofia the message. "He has my number."

"Of course he does," Sofia said. "Question is, what are you going to do?"

"Go home for the funeral," I said automatically. "Pay my respects to Dad, support Marco, then come back here and figure out my life."

"And Axel?" Sofia asked.

I stared at the text message. "Avoid him as much as possible."

Sofia snorted. "Good luck with that."

"I'm serious. Six years is a long time. People change. I've changed."

"Have you?" Sofia challenged.

I didn't have an answer for that.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Sofia helped me pack a bag with clothes suitable for a funeral and a desert town. Black dresses, low heels, and the leather jacket I'd shoved in the back of my closet four years ago.

"You should wear this," Sofia said, holding up the jacket.

"I can't." I took it from her, running my fingers over the worn leather. "This isn't who I am anymore."

"Maybe it's who you need to be," Sofia said gently.

I folded the jacket and placed it at the bottom of my suitcase.

At six AM, Sofia made coffee and we sat in her kitchen, watching the sunrise through the window.

"You know he's going to be different," Sofia said.

I nodded. "Six years of violence changes a person."

"Are you different?" Sofia asked.

I thought about the question. Was I? I'd spent years building walls, creating distance between myself and the girl who'd fallen for a dangerous man. But tonight, when David had insulted my father, the old Emilia had surfaced instantly.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"Well, you're about to find out," Sofia said, checking the time. "He should be here soon."

My stomach twisted with nerves. "What if I can't handle seeing him again?"

"Then you deal with it," Sofia said firmly. "You're stronger than you think, Em. You survived losing your first love and built a whole new life. You can survive a few days at home."

"What if" I started.

A knock at the door cut me off. Sofia and I looked at each other.

"That's not the mailman," Sofia whispered.

Another knock, harder this time.

I stood up on shaky legs. "It's him."

"Are you sure?" Sofia asked.

"I'm sure." I'd know that knock anywhere. Axel never asked for entry; he announced his presence and expected the door to open.

I walked to the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. Took a deep breath and opened it.

Axel Cruz stood in the hallway like a nightmare came to life. Taller than I remembered, broader through the shoulders, with new scars mapping his face and hands. His dark hair was shorter now, his green eyes colder. A leather jacket stretched across his chest, and I could see the outline of a gun under his left arm.

But it was still him. Still the man who'd held me in the shadows behind the clubhouse and promised me forever.

"Hello, princess," Axel said, his voice rougher than I remembered.

"Don't call me that," I managed, gripping the doorframe to keep my knees from buckling.

Axel's mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Still got that temper."

"What do you want?" I asked, though I already knew.

"Marco sent me to bring you home," Axel said, his gaze traveling over my silk pajamas and robe. "Are you ready?"

"I need ten minutes," I said, starting to close the door.

Axel's hand shot out, stopping the door. "Five."

The contact sent electricity up my arm. His hand was bigger than I remembered, scarred across the knuckles from years of fighting.

"Ten," I said firmly.

Axel stepped closer, and I caught the scent of leather and motor oil that had haunted my dreams for six years. "Five, or I come in and pack for you."

My breath caught. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," Axel said softly.

Sofia appeared behind me. "I will get your bag."

She disappeared, leaving me alone with Axel in the doorway.

"You look different," Axel said, his eyes cataloging the changes in my appearance.

"So do you." I took in the new scars, the harder edges to his face. "Rougher."

"Six years of fighting for money will do that," Axel said casually.

"Is that what you've been doing?" I asked, hating that I cared.

Axel's smile turned sharp. "Among other things."

Sofia returned with my suitcase. "All set."

I took the bag from her, suddenly not wanting to leave. "I will call you," I told Sofia, hugging her goodbye.

"Be careful," Sofia whispered in my ear. "But maybe be a little reckless too."

I pulled back and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Sofia glanced at Axel, then back at me. "You know what I mean."

Axel took my suitcase without asking. "Car's downstairs."

I followed him to the elevator, acutely aware of his presence beside me. He'd always been big, but now he seemed to take up all the available space.

"Nice building," Axel commented as we descended.

"It's temporary," I said automatically.

"Everything's temporary, princess." Axel glanced at me. "Some things just last longer than others."

The elevator doors opened, and he led me to a black motorcycle parked at the curb.

I stopped walking. "We're not taking that."

"We are," Axel said, securing my suitcase to the back of the bike.

"I don't have a helmet." My voice sounded desperate even to my own ears.

Axel pulled a spare helmet from the seat. "Now you do."

"I can't," I said, taking a step back. "I haven't been on a bike in years."

Axel moved toward me slowly, like I was a spooked animal. "It's like riding a bicycle."

"That's not the same thing," I protested.

Axel stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "You afraid of the bike or afraid of me?"

"Both," I admitted.

Something flickered in Axel's eyes. Almost like approval. "At least you're honest."

He held out the helmet. "Your choice, princess. The bike, or I throw you over my shoulder and put you on it anyway."

I stared at him. "You're serious."

"Dead serious," Axel confirmed.

I snatched the helmet from his hands. "I hate you."

"No," Axel said, swinging his leg over the bike. "You don't."

EMILIA POV

The ride to Desert Ridge took six hours, and every mile felt like traveling backward through time.

I'd forgotten what it felt like to be pressed against Axel's back, my arms wrapped around his waist, feeling every breath he took. The motorcycle thrummed between my thighs, powerful and dangerous, just like the man controlling it.

We stopped twice for gas and food, barely speaking except for necessity. But I caught him watching me when he thought I wasn't looking, his green eyes unreadable behind dark sunglasses.

"You still eat like a bird," Axel observed at our second stop, nodding toward my half, finished sandwich.

"You still eat like you're feeding an army," I shot back, watching him demolish a burger and fries.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Some things don't change."

But everything had changed. The easy familiarity we'd once shared was gone, replaced by tension thick. Every accidental touch sent sparks through me, but Axel remained frustratingly controlled.

As we got closer to Desert Ridge, the landscape became more familiar. Desert stretched endlessly on both sides of the highway, broken by rock formations and scrub brush. Mountains rose in the distance, purple, blue against the cloudless sky.

Home. The word hit me with unexpected force. I'd spent years telling myself I didn't miss this place, but seeing it again stirred something deep in my chest.

"Still beautiful," I murmured, forgetting Axel could hear me over the engine noise.

His hand briefly covered mine where it rested on his thigh. "Yeah. It is."

I wasn't sure he was talking about the landscape.

We rolled into Desert Ridge as the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The town looked smaller than I remembered, more run, down. Boarded, up businesses lined Main Street, and the few people walking the sidewalks looked tired and worn.

But the Iron Serpents clubhouse looked exactly the same.

Axel pulled into the parking lot, and I climbed off the bike on unsteady legs. Hours on a motorcycle had left me stiff and sore, but that wasn't why my hands were shaking.

The clubhouse squatted like a concrete fortress, all black walls and barred windows. Motorcycles lined the front, gleaming in the fading light. Music and laughter drifted from inside, along with the smell of cigarettes and beer.

"Marco's waiting," Axel said, removing his helmet.

I pulled off my own helmet, finger, combing my windblown hair. "How do I look?"

Axel studied my face for a long moment. "Like Vincent Romano's daughter."

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not.

The front door opened, and Marco stepped out. My brother looked older with new lines around his eyes and gray threading through his dark hair. The weight of leadership sat heavy on his shoulders.

"Em." Marco's face softened as he approached. "Christ, look at you."

He pulled me into a crushing hug, and for the first time since getting the call, I let myself cry. Marco smelled like home, and I clung to him like a lifeline.

"I'm so sorry," I sobbed into his shoulder. "I should have been here. I should have called more, visited more."

"Hey." Marco pulled back, gripping my shoulders. "None of that matters. You're here now, and that's what matters."

I wiped my eyes, aware that half the clubhouse was probably watching through the windows. "How are you holding up?"

"One day at a time," Marco said honestly. "Come on. Let's get you inside. Mama C's been cooking all day."

The clubhouse interior hit me like a punch to the gut. Everything was exactly as I'd left it: the scarred wooden bar, the pool tables, the Iron Serpents banners hanging from the rafters. Even the smell was the same: cigarettes and beer.

But it was quieter than usual. Conversations stopped as I walked in, and I felt the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes.

"Everyone, you remember Em," Marco announced to the room. "Vincent's daughter."

A chorus of greetings rose from the assembled bikers, most of whom I recognized despite the years. They looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and respect. I was Marco's sister, Vincent's daughter, MC royalty whether I wanted to be or not.

"Emmy!" Carmen emerged from behind the bar, all soft curves and maternal warmth. Mama C had been the clubhouse's unofficial mother figure for as long as I could remember, and seeing her face crumple with grief made my eyes fill again.

"Mama C." I hugged her tightly, breathing in her familiar scent of vanilla and cigarettes. "I'm so sorry."

"Your papa, he was so proud of you," Carmen said, stroking my hair. "Always bragging about his smart daughter in the big city."

The guilt hit me. "I should have called him more."

"He understood, mija," Carmen said gently. "He knew you needed to find your own way."

"But I never got to" I started.

"He knew you loved him," Carmen interrupted firmly. "That's what mattered."

Marco appeared at my elbow. "Are you hungry? Carmen made your favorite."

My stomach growled in response. I hadn't eaten a real meal since yesterday, and the stress was catching up with me.

Carmen bustled me to a corner table and returned with a plate piled high with enchiladas, rice, and beans. Comfort food that tasted exactly like childhood.

"Eat," Carmen ordered. "You're too skinny."

I was halfway through my plate when the front door opened again. A young man walked in, tall and lean with sandy hair and an easy smile. He was handsome in a clean, cut way, wearing jeans and a Iron Serpents t, shirt that showed off muscled arms.

"That's Jax," Marco said, following my gaze. "New prospect. He is eager to prove himself."

As if he'd heard his name, Jax looked over and caught sight of me. His smile widened as he approached our table.

"You must be Em," Jax said, extending his hand. "I'm Jax Martinez. Your brother's told me a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope," I said, shaking his hand.

"Definitely." Jax's grip lingered a moment longer than necessary. "I'm real sorry about your dad. He was a good man."

"Thank you." I appreciated that he didn't offer empty platitudes about Vincent being "in a better place" or other meaningless comfort.

"Maybe later you'd like to take a ride?" Jax suggested. "I could show you what's changed around town while you were gone."

Marco's face darkened slightly. "Jax"

"I'd like that," I said, surprising myself.

Jax was safe. Normal, by MC standards. The kind of man I should be attracted to, not the dangerous ghost from my past who was currently glowering at us from across the room.

"Great." Jax grinned. "How about tomorrow afternoon?"

"It's a date," I agreed.

The words had barely left my mouth when a beer bottle exploded against the wall behind Jax's head.

Everyone in the clubhouse went silent. Jax spun around, and I followed his gaze to see Axel standing by the bar, his face a mask of controlled rage.

"Is there a problem, Ghost?" Marco asked quietly, using Axel's road name.

"No problem," Axel said, his voice deadly calm. "Just clumsy."

But his eyes were locked on Jax with unmistakable threat.

Jax, to his credit, didn't back down. "Are you sure about that?"

Axel moved away from the bar. "Real sure."

The tension in the room ratcheted up several notches. Other club members began shifting, hands moving toward weapons.

"Enough," Marco said sharply. "Both of you stand down."

Axel looked at Marco for a long moment, then at me. Something hot and possessive flared in his eyes before he turned and walked out the back door.

"What the hell was that about?" Jax muttered.

I stood up abruptly. "I need some air."

I followed the path Axel had taken, through the back door and into the small courtyard behind the clubhouse. He was standing in the shadows, smoking a cigarette with sharp, angry movements.

"What is wrong with you?" I demanded.

Axel took a long drag of his cigarette. "Nothing."

"You just threw a bottle at an innocent man's head."

"Missed on purpose," Axel said calmly.

"That's not the point." I moved closer, anger overriding my common sense. "You can't just"

"Can't just what?" Axel flicked his cigarette away and turned to face me fully. "Watch you flirt with some pretty boy prospect?"

"I wasn't flirting," I protested, even though I had been.

Axel stepped closer, backing me against the brick wall. "You said it was a date."

"So what if it was?" I lifted my chin defiantly. "It's been six years, Axel. Six years since you walked away without a word. I'm not sixteen anymore, and I'm not yours."

Something dark and dangerous flashed in Axel's eyes. "You sure about that, princess?"

His hands braced against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in. The scent of leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him surrounded me, making my head spin.

"Yes," I whispered, but it sounded like a lie even to my own ears.

"Prove it," Axel said softly.

His face was inches from mine, his body radiating heat and barely contained violence. One of his hands moved to cup my cheek, thumb tracing my lower lip with devastating gentleness.

"Axel," I breathed.

"Tell me you don't feel anything," he murmured. "Tell me six years erased what was between us."