My vision goes so sharp it almost blurs.
I force my voice to stay level. “He’s not going to threaten anyone ever again.”
She swallows. “Is he dead?”
“Yeah.”
She nods slowly. Relief? Grief? Shock?
I can’t tell.
“Tony?” she says after a long moment.
“Yeah.”
“You said something,” she whispers, cheeks flushing. “Before we left. Back at the warehouse.”
I frown. “What?”
“You told him…” She wets her lips, eyes darting away, then back. “…nobody touches what’s yours.”
My chest locks up.
I did say that.
In front of the Hellions.
In front of Smoke.
In front of her.
I claimed her in the loudest, most irreversible way a man like me can.
“I meant it,” I say.
Her breath hitches. “But I didn’t think we were doing these things, claims, labels.”
“Yeah,” I say, jaw tight. “And then your ex-husband kidnapped you, threatened to sell you, and I realized I was done pretending you’re anything less than mine to protect.”
Her eyes flood, but no tears fall.
“You’re not property,” I add roughly. “You’re not a possession. ‘Mine’ doesn’t mean that with me. It just means…” I trail off, searching for the least pathetic version of the truth. “It means I will burn the world down before I let anyone hurt you again.”
She stares at me.
Then she whispers, “I like your version better than his.”
My shoulders sag with something like relief.
I let the ice pack slide lower, grazing her lip, careful not to press too hard.
“We can talk about labels later,” I say. “Right now, you need rest.”
“What about Tiffany?” she asks immediately.
“Smoke’s with her,” I say. “She’s in the next room. Stubborn as ever. Pissed as ever. Alive.”
Some of the tension drains out of her.
