Kelsey’s phone rang in the late hours of the evening, a week or so after Spike Lawler’s arrest had been plastered all over the front page of the newspaper. She’d been as shocked as anyone to hear of the multitude of direct murder charges, but slightly less shocked by the story of how he was captured on the side of the highway after a non-lethal crash that was witnessed by Jesse Slater. Slater had given his statement willingly to the police over a period of nearly fourteen hours, detailing his lengthy relationship with the suspect and disclosing what limited knowledge he had of any such murder plots. At this time, no connection could be found between Slater and the “Mongol Murders,” as they had already been dubbed by the press. It was all Kelsey could ask for, really.

 

Chopper had walked in the door around nine at night, ragged around the edges, but as serene as a Buddhist monk. He smelled like stale sweat and cigarette smoke, which he attributed to the room in which his interview took place. He got in the shower, Kelsey heated up some food, and over a belated dinner, he told her everything that had transpired from the moment he left the bedroom in the wee hours of the morning. The police were keen on finding out if he had participated in the killings, if he had signed off on them, if he and Spike Lawler had struck some kind of crazy deal. The answer to all of these questions was a firm “No.” As hard as they tried to press him, each time they came up with nothing, and so eventually, they had to let him walk.

 

This was about when Chopper described the interviewing officer, and Kelsey realized that it was Detective Wilde. She’d ended up telling him about the renewed investigation into Hannah’s murder as a result. And now, Detective Wilde’s number was lighting up her screen. She answered. “Hello?”

 

“Hi, Kelsey, this is Detective Wilde, from the precinct. Do you have a minute?”

 

Kelsey blinked. “Sure. What’s up?” Beside her in the bed, Chopper shot her a quizzical glance. She shrugged. He turned the TV down.

 

“Are you sitting down?” Wilde asked. There was an audible smile on his lips.

 

Kelsey hesitated. “Yes …” She dared not get her hopes up, but she could feel them rising in her chest. Unconsciously, she reached for Chopper’s hand, wrapping her fingers around his and squeezing tightly.

 

“We were contacted by an individual with links to an unrelated case earlier today.” Wilde paused. “He just confessed to the murder of your sister.”

 

Kelsey almost dropped the phone. “What?” she asked hesitantly. “Is that true?” Her hands shook so much that Chopper gently reached over and held the phone for her.

 

“It’s true,” Wilde confirmed. “I was there. Congratulations, Kelsey. We got him.”

 

Kelsey wanted to say something; she wanted to say a lot of things, but all her words ended up smothered by a torrent of tears. Somehow, she choked out a thank you that wasn’t nearly as heartfelt as Wilde deserved. The detective promised to let her know about trial dates, and he promised to send her a picture of the killer, at her request.

 

The man’s name was one she recognized from the media coverage of Spike Lawler’s killings: Henry Rawl, the last Mongol standing. He had fled the city, or so he claimed, to avoid the fallout that he was sure would come after word of the killing got out. And when his old leader Spike Lawler turned up captured, it changed something in Rawl’s hard heart. He began to grow a conscience.

 

Kelsey was positive some of that was just Rawl attempting to capitalize on the pitying impulses of the public, thinking that if he came back and showed remorse for his crimes in the shadow of Spike’s atrocities, he might be let off easy. At the beginning of her journey, that might have bothered her a lot. But now, basking in the glory that came with finally knowing as much of the whole story as she possibly could, Rawl’s confession was enough. She felt some restless shadow within her settle down to sleep at last. A great weight lifted itself from her heart. She had done right by her little sister at last. She had done everything she could, and she had received her answers. When the call was over, she turned toward Chopper and buried her face in his chest for a minute, breathing in the comfort of his presence. He rubbed the back of her neck until she lifted her head and looked up at him.

 

“Now what?” she asked, a little smile tilting the corner of her mouth.

 

He kissed her forehead. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well…” Kelsey shrugged. “Spike’s in jail. I know who killed my sister. Who are we now? What do we do?” She meant it half as a joke, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized how much her relentless pursuit of the truth had defined her. With that chapter finally written and tucked away, she had no idea where to go next. As painful as Hannah’s death had been, it provided her life with a structure that was suddenly missing.

 

“Here’s an idea,” Chopper whispered, his lips against Kelsey’s neck. She shivered, resting her hands on his strong forearms. He slid his fingers teasingly under the hem of her shirt. “Why don’t we celebrate?” Before she could say anything, their lips met, and Kelsey decided it would be okay to stop thinking for a while.

 

# # #

 

The buzz of the tattoo gun was like a fly droning around Kelsey’s torso — a fly that stung like crazy. She lay on her back in the parlor chair, trying to keep her mind off the pain. “Hey,” she said, running her finger along the outside of Chopper’s wrist. “Tell me something.”

 

“Tell you what?” he asked, looking at her with mild bemusement.

 

“Anything. Just say words so I don’t have to think about how many needles are poking me right now.”

 

He chuckled, lifting her hand to his lips. “How about this? The Outlaws are expanding.”

 

“Really? How much?” Since Spike’s incarceration, Kelsey had allowed herself to drift back toward club business just a little bit, but not enough to get back in over her head again. She had briefly considered asking Chopper to step down so that they might be able to live a slightly more normal life, but she quickly ditched that idea. Chopper provided for both of them, and he did it well. Who was she to tell him how to spend his time? Still, she wondered what an expansion could mean. More drug routes meant an increase in revenue, but if she’d learned anything from this experience, it was that a drug-fueled peace never lasted too long.

 

“I want to buy up some of those houses in that area where Spike was hiding,” Chopper said. “You know, fix ‘em up, turn ‘em into places where people could actually live.” He paused. “I think it could be good for single moms, or kids who don’t have anywhere to go.”

 

Kelsey’s heart swelled. She had always known Chopper could be sweet, but their hard times together seemed to have transformed a part of his spirit. The bitterness over his own rough start was gone, replaced by a desire to help others like him overcome their own. No words existed to express the depth of her pride in him. Even if he didn’t see it himself, he’d come so far. They both had. And there was so much farther to go. She took his hand and held his palm against her cheek, suppressing a wince as the tattoo needle dug into the skin below her breast.

 

“I love you, Jesse,” she said softly.

 

He smiled, a genuine, gentle smile. “I love you too, gorgeous.”

 

The buzzing stopped. “You know what I love?” the tat guy said, carefully wiping over his finished artwork. “I love this piece. Check it out.” He held up a mirror so that Kelsey could see. Her eyes widened as she gazed at it, the pain immediately forgotten. She’d wanted her first tattoo to be simple—a small, fiery flower standing vigil over the name she had chosen for her fallen baby boy, inked directly underneath her heart.

 

“What do you think?” she asked Chopper, turning her eyes to his face.

 

He didn’t say anything, but she saw the gleam of tears in his eyes, and she sat up gingerly, wrapping her arms around his neck. Graciously, the artist turned away to afford them some privacy. “It’s perfect,” he whispered finally. “Like you.”

 

Kelsey smiled. She nuzzled his neck. “And there’s plenty of room there for the others … when they come.” She knew that there would be a time when the hole in her heart could be filled, when she could carry and deliver a little soul into the world. Maybe she wasn’t ready just yet, but someday, she would be. And when she was, there was no question in her mind that Jesse would be standing by her side.

 

She pulled back and looked at him, soaking in the magic of his sea-blue eyes, the warmth of his touch. She’d come to him from such a dark place, and he had helped her create the vision of a beautiful future.

 

“Thank you,” she said, running her thumb over his bottom lip. “You saved me.”

 

He laughed, his eyes tender. “Kels, the only reason I could save you is because you saved me first.”

 

“That’s not true,” she protested, her features lit by a smile. “As if Chopper Slater needed saving.”

 

“Just because I wasn’t lost yet doesn’t mean I wasn’t getting there.” He pressed his lips against her temple. “I needed someone to come in and challenge all my idiot ideals. Show me there was somethin’ beyond bikes and money and hating Spike. Call me by my real name.” He ran his hand through his hair. “That was you, and that’s why we’re here right now.” He reached across her and picked up the mirror, and together they looked at the name inscribed on her body. “That’s why we have this.” She had never spoken it out loud, but she didn’t need to. It was a secret, hers to keep until she chose to release it.

 

The name of their unspoken love, carried in Kelsey’s body and heart for as long as she could bear it, and even after that.

 

The beginning of their legacy.

 

Aiden. Their little fire.