Mason:Inked Reapers MC(146)

"You mean he's running the Blood Pact," Colin stiffly corrected him.



"Seriously?"



"A lot of changes went down last night," Colin sighed. "I'm still  getting my head around them all. But yeah, my intel tells me that Sylar  is now the head honcho over at the rival gang, with some guy with a  scarred up face."



Smith.



"And like I said, the Highway Reapers won't be causing you any trouble  in the future. But I can't say the same for the Blood Pact. He might  come looking for his sister."



"Let him come," Miles growled. "He'd have to catch us first."



"Good luck out there."



"Thanks, man. You too." Miles listened as the line went dead and then  slowly hung up. Brea was peering anxiously at him through the glass, her  eyes wide with desperation.



"So?" she prompted before Miles had barely had a chance to come out.



"Your brother is fine," Miles told her as he began swiftly returning to  their motel room. He wanted to put even more distance between them and  Colridge, especially if Sylar now had what was left of the Blood Pact at  his disposal. What was to stop him chasing them down and killing Miles  just so that he could have Brea all to himself again?                       
       
           



       



"He is?" Brea's voice brightened with hope. "Really?"



"Yes, but we can't stay here," Miles paused to turn around and place his  hands upon her delicate shoulders. "We have to keep running, Brea.  We're still not safe."



Her beautiful features scrunched up in confusion.



"We need to outrun our past, Brea," Miles squeezed her shoulders  protectively. "We're both connected to the packs. We need to drive until  the highway becomes just a hazy blur around us. We need to drive and  never look back. Are you with me?"



"Always," Brea didn't even pause to consider her response. "Miles, I'm always with you."



"I love you," Miles lowered his head to press his lips against hers. She  kissed him back passionately, confirming that she loved him too.





Epilogue



The late afternoon sunlight warmed Brea's bare legs as she locked up the  door in front of her. She was closing up early for the day seeing how  it was a special occasion. She was smiling to herself and humming as she  turned the key in the lock. The wording painted on the glass door read  ‘Brea's Tattoos'. There was no need for a metal shutter, the locked door  would suffice. This was a nice neighborhood, the kind of place where  people paused to greet one another on the street and smiled and waved  when they drove by in their cars. It was the kind of place Brea had  always hoped she'd someday live in.



Walking away from the store she owned, Brea held her head high. She  headed over to a nearby parking lot where her bright red convertible was  parked, waiting for her arrival. From the lot, she could see the ocean,  which sparkled in the sunlight like the rarest of jewels. Brea took a  moment to enjoy the stunning view, as she often did. She could taste the  salt in the air and it tasted good. Everything here was so fresh, so  perfect. Eventually, Brea climbed into her car and turned on the engine.  It purred like a kitten as she manoeuvred out of the parking lot and  commenced on the short drive home.



As she drove, the ocean remained on her right, reminding her of how  beautiful this part of the world was and how lucky she was to live in  it. Several cars honked at her as they passed, most just waved. Everyone  in town knew Brea. She'd even worked on most of them. People knew her  name and they liked her. They'd stop by her store just to catch up and  ask her how things were. But no one knew about the past she'd been  running from for so long. All they knew was that she'd been drawn to  their beautiful coastal town and had decided to set up a shop there and  plant some roots for her future. And who could blame her? They lived in  their very own little slice of heaven.



It took less than ten minutes to reach the high rise condominiums in  which Brea now lived. She parked in her usual spot and glanced at the  distant turquoise waters of the complex's communal swimming pool and  considered taking a quick dip. She started and ended most of her days  with a brisk swim and it showed. Her golden legs were sculpted and made  her look athletic and healthy. Even her dark hair had turned as golden  as the sun which kissed it daily.



Brea decided that she didn't have time to swim. She instead headed towards the main building.



"Hey, Frank," she smiled warmly at the uniformed security guard drinking his coffee in the reception area.



"Hey, Brea. You're home early," Frank noted kindly.



"Yep, it's a special day today," Brea grinned excitedly at the old man  as she hurried for the stainless steel doors of the waiting elevator.



"He already told me," Frank laughed jovially. "Have a nice night, Brea."



"You too," Brea called out as the doors closed on her and started taking  her up to the eighth floor. They opened once again with a soft ping and  Brea entered a lavishly decorated hallway. There were solid wooden  floors and beige walls decorated with fancy pieces of art. It was a  beautiful building to live in. But the real selling point was the view.  Brea let herself into her condominium and held her breath, just as she  always did. The far wall was made entirely of large windows which  boasted a spectacular view of the ocean beyond. It was simply beautiful.



"You're home," Miles was striding over to her. He quickly enveloped her  in his powerful arms and kissed her. Brea melted against it. The best  part of coming home was being with Miles. He still smelled of oil from  his day spent working as a mechanic, but Brea liked it. She clung to him  tightly, trying to drink him all in.



"How was your day?" Miles asked as they eventually parted.

                       
       
           



       

"It was great," Brea smiled. And it truly had been. She'd worked on two  new clients today. Everyone had loved her work and gushed about it to  her. The look on their faces, as they admired Brea's art, which had been  permanently inked into their skin, was priceless. Each time, Brea would  swell with pride and remember what had drawn her to becoming a  tattooist in the first place.



"And it's about to get even better," Miles was disappearing towards the  sleek modern kitchen, which was attached to the main living area. The  entire apartment was based on an open plan creating a ton of room and  brightness. Glorious natural light flooded in through the large windows  making everywhere seem even more perfect.



When Miles returned, he was carrying a small gift bag which appeared to  be from the boutique jewelers in town. Brea's face lit up as he handed  it to her.



"You didn't have to get me anything," she swiftly protested.



"Of course I did," they sat down together on their leather sofa as Brea  opened the bag. "You already gave me my gift." Miles made a fist,  revealing how Brea's name had recently been tattooed across his fingers.



Brea rummaged through the tissue paper, to find a small black box at the  base of the bag. Her heart was racing as she pulled it up to her chest  and slowly opened it. In the box was a beautiful golden ring with  diamonds set in it to the shape of a perfect bow. It was beautiful. Each  precious stone sparkled magically in the sunlight.



"Oh, Miles, it's perfect," Brea gushed. It was the ring she'd admired in  the window as they'd been walking through town together on one lazy  Sunday afternoon.



"The lady at the store said the size should be fine but, if not just pop in and ask for Giselle."



Brea was only half listening as she slipped the ring onto her left hand.  It went nearly all the way to her knuckle but was blocked by the golden  band which was already sitting there. Brea extended out her hand and  admired her new ring.



"I love it."



"And I love you," Miles reached over and cupped her head in his hands,  kissing her softly. "Happy one-year anniversary, baby," he murmured  contentedly.



Brea closed her eyes and let the kiss deepen, remembering how a year  ago, she and Miles had driven up to Vegas and made a promise to love  each other forever. They were done running, done hiding from demons that  might not even be chasing them. As man and wife, they made the decision  to find a town in California that they both liked and stayed there. And  now a whole year had passed and life was better than ever, better than  Brea could ever have imagined it would be.



"I was thinking we could go grab dinner at the fish place we like down  by the docks," Miles said when their kiss ended. Brea reached for his  recently tattooed fingers, interlocking them with her own. She loved how  small her hand felt when she placed it in his. Miles always made her  feel so safe, so protected.