Page 93 of Peak’s Code

Maeve handed him one of the mugs. "That's practically affection."

"It is for him,” Peak agreed. They stood side by side watching the sunset, and neither felt any need to fill the silence. Peak had discovered that was one of the things he loved most about Maeve. Silence with her never felt empty—it felt peaceful.

She leaned lightly against his shoulder. "You're thinking."

"I am,” he said.

"I can tell,” she whispered.

"How?"

"You get this little wrinkle right here." She reached up and touched the space between his eyebrows. "It means your brain's trying to solve something."

Peak smiled. "I thought I hid it better."

"Not from me,” she said.

He looked out across the water again. "I've spent most of my life avoiding things."

Maeve frowned. "What brought this on?"

"I turned down the government, I refused Captain, and I stayed in this house because it was easier than figuring out what came next." She waited for him to continue, and Peak appreciated that about her. She never rushed him. "I kept thinking freedom meant not belonging anywhere."

Maeve slipped her hand into his. "And now?" He looked at the clubhouse patch stitched onto the back of the denim jacket hanging over the porch railing. Six months ago, Captain had walked into Peak's garage carrying a folded leather kutte. It had a patch on the back, but it wasn’t a prospect patch, or a patch for a temporary assignment. It was a full patch, and across the back it said: GRAVE PROWLERS MC. Below it, there was one rocker that said: CYBER OPERATIONS. Captain had grumbled the entire time. "Don't make me regret this." Peak had accepted it without a single argument, because for the first time in his life, he wanted to belong somewhere.

He squeezed Maeve's hand. "Now I know freedom isn't about being alone."

She smiled softly. "It's about choosing where you belong."

He nodded. "Exactly."

The screen door slammed. "You two are disgustingly adorable!" Wren's voice carried across the yard. Peak and Maeve both looked toward the house. Wren stood on the porch holding a bag of marshmallows, and Warden stood beside her.

"I told her not to interrupt,” Warden said.

"You absolutely did not," Wren shot back.

Warden shrugged. "She's got me there."

Captain climbed out of his truck carrying a cooler, and Ruin followed with folding chairs. Dock backed another pickup toward the fire pit, loaded with firewood. Within minutes, the yard filled with motorcycles, laughter, and music. It was the unmistakable chaos of an outlaw family.

Maeve smiled. "Looks like we're hosting again." Peak looked around. Somehow, his quiet house had become the place everyone gathered, but he didn't mind—not even a little.

Captain wandered onto the dock carrying two fishing poles. "You coming?"

"In a minute." Captain looked between Peak and Maeve and seemed to notice the small velvet box sticking halfway out of Peak's jacket pocket. The old president's eyebrows lifted, and without saying a word, he slowly smiled.

He turned back to the house and shouted. "Wren, keep everybody busy!" Wren looked over, and Captain pointed out the ring box. Her grin became positively wicked.

"Oh!" She grabbed Warden by the arm. "Nobody goes near the dock!"

Warden looked confused. "Why?"

"Because I said so,” she said. Warden muttered something about stubborn sisters.

Peak sighed. "So much for subtle."

Maeve looked at him. "What are they doing?" Peak reached into his jacket. His heart was pounding harder than it had during the raid beneath the marsh. He'd faced mercenaries, explosives, and one of the most sophisticated criminal organizations in the country. None of it had made him this nervous.