“I know.” I said softly, my forehead resting against hers. “It’s done. You’re safe.”
“I thought I’d lost you,” she choked out, voice muffled against my chest.
“Never.” I said, pressing my forehead to hers. “Not in this lifetime.”
Anton’s footsteps approached, his voice dry but softer than usual. “Well,” he said, glancing at the mess, “family dinners are going to be awkward.”
Aurelia let out a shaky laugh. Small, but real. I couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that followed, something loosening in my chest for the first time in years.
Anton smirked, nodding toward the door. “Come on, lovers. Let’s get out of this tomb before Keith decides to start redecorating.”
I helped Aurelia to her feet, keeping an arm around her as we stepped into the night. The cold air hit us. Clean, alive, free.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking about the past, the empire, or the blood. Just her hand in mine. And the promise of something that almost felt like peace.
Chapter 36
Aurelia
The faint glow of the city skyline filtered through the half-drawn blinds of my bedroom window, casting silvery veins across the rumpled sheets. It was well past midnight, the clock on my nightstand ticking over to 2:17 a.m.. A week since Keith pulled the trigger, since the warehouse shadows swallowed Marcus Krogen whole. And the man who'd loomed like a colossus over our tangled lives crumpled into nothing but a cooling husk on cold concrete. I lay on my side, the cotton sheets twisted around my legs like reluctant restraints, my body curved toward the steady rise and fall of Keith's chest beside me. His arm draped heavy over my hip, a warm anchor in the quiet, his breath deep and even, undisturbed by the ghosts that clawed at my edges.
My apartment felt smaller with him in it. His presence filling the space like smoke, both comforting and consuming. We'd come here after... after everything. Not to his gleaming penthouse or the sterile safety of Elysian Haven's blueprints, but to this cluttered sanctuary of mine.
My mind drifted back to that day, the one etched in blood and finality. After everything, I'd waited by the bike. Keith sat at thefront and started the engine with mechanical precision, and pulled us into the night without a word. Anton went on his own.
We'd ended up at a dive bar on the city's frayed edge, the kind with sticky floors and neon signs buzzing like dying insects. Over cheap whiskey that burned going down, he'd shattered for me. Not with tears, but with the weight of it all. "I should have taken better care of you, Aurelia," he'd said, his voice cracking for the first time, fingers tracing the curve of my jaw like I might vanish. "From the start. Should have kept you safe, away from all this poison. The hands in the dark... they were never just mine to fight." His eyes, haunted then, had locked on mine, pleading for absolution I didn't know how to give. "You deserved a shield, not a storm."
I cupped his face, thumbs brushing the faint stubble along his jaw, willing him to see the truth in my gaze. "You've done enough, Keith. More than enough. You pulled me from the shadows, gave me light when I thought I'd drown in them. We're here. Together. That's what matters."
He'd pulled me close then, burying his face in the crook of my neck. And for a moment, the world outside, the unraveling empire, the whispers of investigations circling like vultures, faded to irrelevance.
A soft shift beside me yanked me from the memory. Keith stirred, his lashes fluttering against the dim light, those gray eyes opening slow and heavy-lidded. He blinked once, twice, registering me watching him. And the corner of his mouth tugged up in that rare, unguarded smile. The one that cracked the ice.
"Caught you staring," he murmured, voice husky with sleep, rough edges smoothed by the intimacy of night.
I smiled back. Warmth blooming in my chest despite the hour. And leaned in to press a feather-light kiss to his jaw. "Good morning, then. Even if the sun's too lazy to agree."
He chuckled low, the sound vibrating through him like distant thunder, and tightened his arm around me, drawing me flush against his side. "Morning, beautiful. Though if it's still night, does that make this a dream?" He nuzzled into my hair, inhaling the faint scent of my shampoo, his free hand splaying across my back in lazy circles that chased away the chill.
I shifted, laying my head on his chest. The steadythump-thumpof his heart a lullaby beneath my ear. My fingers wandered of their own accord, tracing the familiar planes of his skin. The broad shoulders forged in fire, the taut ridges of muscle earned in blood. And there, just below his collarbone, my touch found the scar. Raised and uneven, a brutal testament etched in flesh. I'd seen it before, but never asked. Not until now, with the warehouse's ghosts still fresh between us.
"You never told me what happened here?" I whispered, my fingertip following its cruel path, gentle as if it might reopen under too much pressure.
Keith went still beneath me, his hand pausing mid-caress. For a beat, the room held its breath, the city's hum fading to white noise. Then he exhaled, slow and measured, like exhuming a buried blade. "Marcus's doing. A reminder, he called it." His voice dipped, threading with old shadows, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he covered my hand with his. Pressing my palm flat against the mark as if to share its weight. "He had me training from the time I could walk. Brutal, every damn day. Dawn till dusk. Combat drills, weapons, endurance runs that left me puking in the hedges. Said it was to make me unbreakable. Fit to inheritthe 'Krogen legacy.' But in the initial days... god, it was too much. I was just a kid, bones like twigs, lungs burning for mercy that never came."
I lifted my head, propping on one elbow to meet his gaze. But he stared at the ceiling, lost in the retelling. My heart twisted, a quiet ache blooming.
"One night," he continued, tone even, as if reciting a report rather than reliving hell, "I couldn't take it. Snuck out after lights-out. Climbed the east wall, ran till my legs gave out in the woods. Thought I could breathe, just for a hour. But Marcus... he always knew. Had eyes everywhere, even in the shadows. Dragged me back at dawn, silent the whole way, his grip like iron on my arm. No yelling, no lecture. Just... the rod." He paused, jaw tightening, the scar seeming to pulse under my touch. "Heated it himself in the study fireplace. Cherry-red, glowing like judgment. Pinned me down on the rug, no restraints needed. I was too scared to fight. Smeared it right here, slow, so the burn sank deep.'This scar will always remind you who holds the empire,'he said.'Weakness leaves marks, boy. Don't let it show again.'"
A laugh escaped him then. Hollow, devoid of humor, echoing in the space between us like a ghost's sigh. "What happened to his so-called empire? All gone to dust. Crumbled under its own rot. Funny how that works."
Tears welled unbidden, hot and traitorous, spilling over to trace salty paths down my cheeks. I swiped at them futilely, but one dropped onto his chest, glistening against the scar like an offering. "Keith... you've suffered so much. At his hands. All those years, carrying that weight alone. It's not fair. None of it."
His eyes softened, storm clouds parting for a rare glimpse of sun. He shifted, rolling us with effortless strength until I lay on my back,his body a protective cage over mine. Elbows braced on either side of my head, one hand settling warm and possessive on the dip of my waist. "Hey," he murmured, thumb brushing away a stray tear with infinite tenderness. "No more suffering. Not for us. I've burned the bridges, Aurelia. Torched the whole damn maze. Nothing touches us now. Everything... it'll be alright. I swear it. You and me, against whatever's left. Paradise on our terms."
His words wrapped around me like a vow, steadying the tremor in my soul. And then he kissed me. Deep, unhurried, a slow pour of everything unspoken. Regret for the lost boy, fire for the man he'd become, promise for the life we'd steal from the ruins. His lips moved against mine with a hunger tempered by healing. Tongue tracing the seam until I opened for him, gasping into the heat of it. My hands found his back, nails grazing the scars I couldn't see but knew by heart, pulling him closer as the world narrowed to the press of skin, the shared rhythm of breaths.
Chapter 37
