The motorcycles started arriving before sunrise.
One by one, headlights appeared along the road outside the clubhouse, followed by the familiar rumble of engines.
I stood near the clubhouse entrance with Jace, one hand resting over my stomach as I watched the Iron Vipers gather.
There was something different about the morning.
Nobody was rushing. Nobody was shouting. Nobody was checking weapons or discussing threats.
The war was over.
For once, the motorcycles weren't gathering because somebody needed protection.
They were gathering because George had asked everyone to ride.
One final ride.
A memorial ride for Uncle Will and for the Iron Vipers who had been lost over the years and Jace glanced down at me.
"You sure you're comfortable?" He asked.
"I'm fine." I said.
"You've said
