Page 45 of Midnight Rebel
“Please tell me you’re not actually nervous,” Skylar laughs from where she’s arranging my bouquet—roses from our garden mixed with deep purple calla lilies. “After everything you and Colt have been through, walking down the aisle should be easy.”
The distant rumble of motorcycles cuts through our laughter, and my heart leaps.
Through the window, I watch as the Midnight Riders roll in, their bikes gleaming in the fall sunlight. They’re an impressive sight as they line their motorcycles up in formation, chrome flashing in the sun.
Some of the early-arriving guests pause to watch, but there’s no fear in their expressions now, only appreciation.
The Riders have merged two worlds in a way that shouldn’t work but absolutely does—each of them in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, but instead of the traditional vest, their leather cuts sit snugly over pressed white shirts, MC patches proudly on display.
The blend of traditional tailoring with rough leather creates something entirely new, but that feels right for the occasion.
“I remember being terrified at the masquerade,” I say, smoothing my hands over my silk dress.
Skylar grins, adjusting a stray curl in my veil. “From town menace to local heroes. Who would’ve thought? Though I seem to remember someone insisting there was more to their story once she started digging.” She winks. “Guess your journalist instincts were right about that one.”
“All the rumors about the Midnight Riders had me jumping at shadows, convinced they were trouble. Now look at them. They’ve changed how this whole town sees them,” I say softly, watching another group of bikes roll in. “The mentorship program, the second-chance initiative at The Manor. They were doing good all along but people, including me, couldn’t see past their reputation.”
“Look at you,” Skylar teases. “The Midnight Riders’ biggest defender. Although I suppose falling in love with one of them has something to do with that.”
“And to think I once worried about having them around The Manor,” Margaret says with a knowing smile. “Now we couldn’t run the place without them. Three more of our program graduates just got approved for permanent positions last week.”
A knock at the door interrupts us. “Everyone decent?” Hawk’s gruff voice carries through the wood.
“Come in,” Margaret calls, giving my veil one final adjustment.
Hawk enters, looking surprisingly comfortable in his suit despite the leather cut over it. His eyes soften when he sees me, and for a moment, I glimpse the tenderness these supposedly hardened men try so hard to hide.
“You look beautiful,” he says, clearing his throat. “Ghost’s a lucky man.”
“We both are,” I reply, touched by the emotion in his voice.
Hawk nods, then glances at his watch. “Everything’s ready. The boys are keeping Ghost from wearing a path in the rose garden. You want to do this thing?”
My heart thunders as we make our way through The Manor’s restored hallways. The place is transformed—elegant Halloween decorations mixed with classic wedding touches, creating something uniquely us. Jack-o’-lanterns flicker in alcoves, white roses, and black ribbons adorn the banisters, and floating candles cast a warm glow everywhere.
The walls that once held secrets now hold hope. Every weekend, the Manor hosts events for the community.
The tunnels that once terrified me are now part of historical tours. And the rooms that were empty now house people building new lives, thanks to the MC’s second-chance program.
At the garden doors, I catch my reflection in the glass. No mask this time, no mysteries or secrets between us anymore. Just me, just us, just this perfect moment.
“Ready?” Hawk asks quietly, offering his arm.
The music changes, and the doors open. The rose garden is magical in the late afternoon light, restored to its former glory and then some.
Fairy lights twinkle among the blooms, and carved pumpkins line the aisle. Our guests rise—a strange and wonderful combination of family, MC members, town officials, Manor staff, and friends.
The MC members are standing tall, their usual gruffness softened by genuine joy. Margaret is in the front row, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief while Skylar holds her hand.
Hawk walks me down the aisle. And there, waiting at the end, is Colt. He’s wearing black suit pants, a white shirt with his leathercut over it, just like his brothers, but somehow he makes it look regal.
His blue eyes lock with mine, and that familiar smirk plays at his lips—the same one I fell in love with at the masquerade. But his eyes... God, his eyes are full of such love it makes my heart ache.
When we reach Colt, Hawk places my hand in his, then steps back. But before he does, he gives Colt that look—that silent communication they’ve perfected over years of brotherhood. In it, I see approval, pride, and love.
“Hi, Ghost,” I whisper as Colt’s hands close around mine.
His smirk deepens. “Hi, Firefly.”