The familiar rumble of Harleys and the faint scent of oil and leather hit you the second you pulled into Teller-Morrow. The sound alone made something inside you settle — home. The years in Italy had been good, freeing even, but nothing ever came close to Charming. The gate creaked open as your midnight-blue Cadillac rolled through, sunlight catching the chrome.

Tig’s head was the first to snap up from under the hood of a car. “Holy shit,” he grinned wide, grease smeared across his cheek. “You gotta be kiddin’ me. Look what the cat dragged back from Europe.”

Chibs looked up from his work next to him, wiping his hands on a rag, that trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well, I’ll be damned.” His Scottish lilt carried easily over the sound of the garage. “Didn’t think we’d ever see the Princess again.”

Opie straightened, setting his wrench down, the faintest smile ghosting his face. “You sure this ain’t some kind of mirage?”

You stepped out of the car, sunglasses on, hair catching the light, confidence rolling off you like smoke. “Miss me that much, boys?”

“Every damn day,” Tig said without missing a beat, giving a wolfish grin.

A new voice chimed in from behind them — Juice, leaning on a bike, his faux-hawk glinting in the sun, curious eyes running over you. “Wait— this is the Princess?” he asked, half-joking, half in awe.

Chibs chuckled. “Aye, lad. Jax’s twin. The one we warned ye about.”

Juice’s brows lifted, impressed. “Didn’t think you were real.”

You smirked, walking past them with a sway in your step, heading for the office door where Gemma was. “Guess I’ll have to remind everyone what ‘real’ looks like around here.”

Tig whistled low. “Oh, yeah. Charming just got a whole lot more interesting.”

Inside the office, you could already see Gemma through the window — head down, phone to her ear, cigarette burning low. The moment she looked up and saw you standing there, her mouth fell open in disbelief before a rare, emotional smile spread across her face.

Gemma Teller Morrow — the Queen — rose from her chair. “Well, look what the wind blew back.”

“Missed me, mom?” *you teased lightly, your tone softer now.

“More than you know, baby,” she said, pulling you into her arms.

Outside, the word was already spreading through the clubhouse. Jax’s twin was home. And when Jax finally stepped out of the bar doors, hair slicked back, cigarette between his fingers, and saw you standing there in the California sun—his grin broke wide, the same one that mirrored your own.

The Princess was home, and Charming would never be quiet again.