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."

EMILIA POV

I opened my mouth to do exactly that, but the lie wouldn't come. Instead, I found myself leaning into his touch, my body betraying every rational thought in my head.

"That's what I thought," Axel said with satisfaction.

And then he was kissing me.

years of careful control shattered in an instant. His mouth was hot and demanding, claiming mine with a desperation that matched my own. I kissed him back helplessly, my hands fisting in his leather jacket, all my good intentions crumbling to dust.

This was what I'd been running from. This consuming fire that burned away everything else, leaving only need and want and the terrible knowledge that no other man would ever affect me like this.

Axel's hands tangled in my hair, angling my head for deeper access. I could taste the cigarette on his tongue, feel the barely leashed violence in his touch. He was dangerous and wrong for me in every way that mattered.

And I wanted him with a desperation that scared me.

The sound of the back door opening broke us apart. We sprang away from each other like guilty teenagers as Marco stepped outside.

"Em?" Marco's voice was sharp with suspicion. "Is Everything okay out here?"

"Fine," I managed, my voice barely steady. "Just getting some air."

Marco's gaze moved between us, taking in my flushed face and swollen lips, Axel's defensive posture. Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed quickly by fury.

"Inside. Now," Marco ordered. "Both of you."

I started toward the door, but Axel caught my wrist. The contact sent electricity shooting up my arm.

"This isn't over," he said quietly, for my ears only.

"It never started," I whispered back.

But we both knew that was a lie.

As I walked back into the clubhouse, I could feel the weight of several gazes. Jax was watching me with concern, Carmen with knowing sympathy, and several other club members with various degrees of interest and speculation.

I'd been back in Desert Ridge for exactly three hours, and my carefully constructed new life was already falling apart.

My phone buzzed. A text from David: Can we please talk? I made a mistake.

I stared at the message, then deleted it without responding. David felt like a lifetime ago, a different person's problem.

Another buzz. Sofia: How's it going? Surviving the reunion?

I typed back: It's complicated.

Sofia: Complicated how?

Me: We kissed.

My phone immediately rang.

"Holy shit," Sofia said without preamble. "Tell me everything."

"I can't talk right now," I whispered, glancing around the clubhouse.

"Em, are you okay? You sound rattled."

"I am rattled." I walked toward the bathroom for privacy. "He kissed me, Sofia. Against the wall behind the clubhouse like we were teenagers again."

"And?" Sofia prompted.

"And nothing's changed," I admitted. "Six years, and he still affects me the same way."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing." She coos.

"It's a terrible thing," I corrected. "I came here to bury my father and go back to my life. I can't get sucked back into this world."

"Maybe your life isn't in the city," Sofia suggested gently. "Maybe it never was."

"I have to go," I said as Carmen approached the bathroom door.

"Em, wait"

I hung up and splashed cold water on my face, trying to compose myself. In the mirror, I looked exactly like a woman who'd been thoroughly kissed by a dangerous man.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Marco was waiting.

"We need to talk," he said grimly.

He led me to a private room off the main bar, closing the door behind us. The space was clearly his office now Dad's old desk, but with Marco's personal touches.

"Sit," Marco commanded.

I perched on the edge of a chair, feeling like a teenager about to be lectured.

"What happened between you and Axel out there?" Marco asked directly.

"Nothing," I lied.

Marco's eyes flashed. "Don't lie to me, Em. I saw your face when you came back inside."

I crossed my arms defensively. "Nothing happened."

"Bullshit." Marco leaned against his desk. "I know you, and I know him. The question is, how long has this been going on?"

"It's not going on," I protested. "It was just"

"Just what? A moment of weakness?" Marco's voice was getting colder. "Because I distinctly remember having this conversation with Axel six years ago."

My stomach dropped. "What conversation?"

"The one where I told him to stay the hell away from my baby sister," Marco said bluntly. "The one where he promised me it would never happen again."

"That's why he left?" The words came out as a whisper.

Marco's face softened slightly. "You didn't know."

I shook my head, pieces of the puzzle finally clicking into place. "Dad said he threatened to have Axel killed if he ever touched me again."

"Dad was pissed, but it wasn't his threat that mattered," Marco said quietly. "It was mine."

"What did you say to him?" I demanded.

Marco ran a hand through his hair. "That if he ever hurt you, I'd kill him myself. And that getting involved with him would destroy you."

"That wasn't your decision to make," I said, anger building in my chest.

"You were sixteen," Marco said firmly. "He was twenty, two and already knee, deep in club business. What kind of brother would I have been if I'd let that happen?"

"The kind who trusted me to make my own choices," I shot back.

"You were a kid, Em. You had no idea what you were getting into."

I stood up, pacing to the window. "I'm not sixteen anymore, Marco."

"No, but you're still my sister. And Axel is still dangerous as hell."

I turned to face him. "He's your friend. Your brother. If he's so dangerous, why is he here?"

"Because I trust him with my life," Marco said simply. "But that doesn't mean I trust him with your heart."

"My heart is my business," I said firmly.

Marco pushed off from the desk. "Not when it comes to family. Em, you don't understand what Axel's been doing these past six years."

"Then tell me," I challenged.

Marco hesitated, then sighed. "He's been working as an enforcer for hire. Traveling from club to club, taking the jobs nobody else wanted, especially the violent ones."

My blood chilled. "What kind of jobs?"

"The kind that would scar you if you found out," Marco said quietly. "Inside and out. He's not the same man you remember."

"Neither am I," I pointed out.

"Aren't you?" Marco asked. "Because from where I'm standing, you look exactly like the sixteen, year, old girl who used to sneak out to meet him behind the garage."

Before I could respond, a commotion erupted from the main room. Shouting, the sound of chairs scraping, someone yelling for Marco.

We rushed out of the office to find the clubhouse in chaos. Members were grabbing weapons, and through the front windows, I could see motorcycles pulling into the parking lot.

"Reapers," someone shouted.

Marco was instantly in President mode. "Lock it down. Nobody in or out without my say, so."

I pressed myself against the wall as club members moved. Weapons appeared from hidden compartments, and the atmosphere shifted from relaxed to lethal in seconds.

"Em, get to the back room," Marco ordered.

"No." I stood my ground. "I'm not hiding."

"You're not armed, and you're not wearing colors," Marco said sharply. "You're a liability."

"I'm Vincent Romano's daughter," I said with more confidence than I felt.