“Who are you, Wonder Woman?” he wheezes, trying to regain some dignity as I sprint the last mile of our hike up Ralston Mountain. It’s a role reversal, to say the least. A year ago, I was the one playing catch-up. But it’s amazing how much easier exercise gets when you’re not, for example, being slowly poisoned by your own mother.
Life has a dark sense of humor, and I guess so do I. There’s not much that’s funny about the pasts Axe and I have survived, tangled up with more than our fair share of Devils in disguise. But Axe has taught me that laughter and a healthy dose of optimism are the best armor we’ve got.
So we’ve promised to show each other our truest selves, especially when we’re the most lost or broken. I’ve known for a while now what Axe really does, the bloody work he’s carried out withStrike. On some level, I think I always knew. It doesn’t change how I see him. What matters is that Axe has never hidden from me, and I’ve never flinched from him.
Because if we can’t be real with each other, then who else is there?
Nine months have passed since my mom died, injected with a strong dose of that custom brew from Germany, which turned out to be…well, definitely not insulin. MamaBearSharon was already under the Pennsylvania attorney general’s microscope, practically counting down the days to her indictment. Her death was quickly ruled a suicide.
If the police had been even remotely paying attention, they might have questioned the timing.
But I’ve got to hand it to Axe; he was all in on my plan, no questions asked. Even let me do the honors.
Next, Dr. Don. The guy was napping on his porch when we paid him a little visit. One jab of his own custom cocktail and he was off to dreamland, his farewell letter neatly placed beside him. Poetic justice, delivered.
Killing my two worst childhood monsters was like stepping straight into the sunshine. No more shadows. Just pure, warm light and freedom.
These days, when I’m not at Grace & Honor or overseeing She’s the One—we turned the next-gen AI Josie into a brunette named Clementine, who’s infinitely less glitchy than Gemini—I’m outdoors, making up for lost time. Axe and I spend hours in his rooftop garden. He bought another chair the day after we got back from that fateful trip to Scotland, like he knew we’d be up there often. Now we sit under the stars, holding hands, wondering how the hell we made it through our messed-up childhoods, grateful that we still managed to find each other.
Hamish’s and Petrov’s enterprises have both been obliterated, and since he was Niles von Grafenhagen/Hamish MacKenzie’s only living relative, Axe quietly inherited everything. Naturally, he donated all the dirty money to the anti–sex trafficking charity that already had half his dad’s ill-gotten gains.
But for reasons even he can’t articulate, Axe kept Skara Brae.
We’ve been bouncing around ideas for its future—a sanctuary for women and children fleeing sex slavery tops the list, with one cottage and the orangery reserved just for us. He still rolls his eyes at my woo-woo stuff, but I’ve convinced him that a little sage and a lot of love can bring peace to any ghosts still lingering in that castle.
When I reach Ralston’s summit, I stop, breathless. Not from the hike, but from the view. It’s the exact spot where Axe and I had our first date, well over a year ago. But this time, the scene is even more magical—candles flickering, heaters glowing, and blankets laid out just like before, a perfect re-creation of our twilight dinner.
“Whoa. This is like a fairy tale,” I tell Axe when he joins me. “You’ve gone full Nicholas Sparks on me.”
“Only, this time, you’re not worried about getting anaphylactic shock from something lurking in the food,” Axe says as he hands me a glass of champagne.
“Cheers to that.” Lately, I’ve been sampling every cuisine I can get my hands on. Tonight’s menu is sushi flown in from Kyoto, because of course Axe doesn’t do things by half. “One day, I’m going to tell the world that the tough Mr. Axe MacKenzie is actually romantic AF,” I tease as we clink glasses and sip.
“Don’t you dare,” he says, but he’s grinning, and I know he secretly loves it. We sit down, side by side, because apparently sitting across from me is way too far for Axe’s liking.
“It’s all so beautiful,” I say, taking in the sweeping view of the mountains spread out before us in the distance. “Thank you.”
“Aye, it is,” he says, but he’s staring at me like I’m the real view, and I have to laugh because he’s always a bit much, though I wouldn’t have it any other way. But my smile slips off my face when Axe drops to one knee and pulls out a small velvet box that looks like it’s been through its own little adventure—scuffed edges, faded gold trim.
“So, Josie Greene, love of my life, my Ginger Snap, my bonny Cancer with a moon in Scorpio,” he says, “will you end our love story the way the best ones do?”
When he opens the box, my breath catches. Nestled inside is an antique ring with a sparkling pink diamond at its center, the band etched with Celtic knots. “Will you marry me, even though I’m a…” He pauses, unsure. “Ach, what’s my sign again, lass?”
“Leo,” I blurt, but I’m already grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. His hand is trembling, and suddenly, it hits me—Axe, my unshakable, confident, tough-as-all-hell man—is actually nervous. Terrified, even.
This isn’t just a grand gesture for him; this is everything.
I grab his face and kiss him hard, so hard we nearly tumble over.
“Of course I’ll marry you!” I say, laughing as I pull back, and the way Axe’s eyes widen, still so stunned—like he can’t believe this is real—makes me fall for him all over again. He slips the ring onto my finger like it was always meant to be there.
“It’s beautiful,” I say softly, staring down at the ring, taking it in.
“I found it in an antiques shop in Edinburgh,” says Axe. “It was a bit banged up, but the stone was shining so bright. Waiting for the right person to claim it.”
I look up with a laugh. “Like…a fixer-upper?”
“Like a hidden treasure,” he says. “When I had it appraised, it turns out this is a rare Argyle pink diamond. A color that also reminds me of your blush, rosy Josie.”
